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“You could… kill me… for all I care,” he spits. “I’m not giving you anything.”

It is a good thing my men have done their research. Tomas Wojcak might not care what happens to his men. He maybe doesn’t even care if he ends up in a hole six feet under, but he will definitely care about my trump card. I bring out my phone and dial a number before holding it to my ear. I walk toward Tomas, pause and look him dead in the eyes, before I move the phone away from my ear and turn the screen around so he can clearly see what we have our eyes on. His nine year old son Willis runs around the school playground, the image playing out so clearly the result of a telescopic lens from a long range rifle.

Tomas gasps, his eyes flying to mine, pleading silently for us not to hurt his son. It is a dick move, and I would never hurt his son, but it is the only leverage I have to end this swiftly.

“You know I can’t promise you anything unless you give me something in return.”

The implication of my words is obvious. Tomas closes his eyes in defeat and lets out a curse.

“Do not hurt my son.”

“I can guarantee you his safety if you put an end to this now.”

“Tate.”

It is one single word and it makes my heart stop. But it’s one word that makes all the sense in the world. Who else could possibly want her dead? The obvious answer would be Tate. He is the only family she has left in the world. It has to be him. But why?

“I need more than that.”

My voice is so low yet so sharp, it cuts through the silence of the studio with a violent streak.

“He had me follow the girl. I waited until the opportunity presented itself. He told me to rape and kill her. Make sure she wasn’t breathing.”

My blood is turning to ice as he speaks, the last shreds of my sanity no longer tethered to this world. I will kill him. I will kill him then roast him over a spit until he is nothing but charred ash.

“Go on.”

“When you turned up unexpectedly, that plan went the way of the wind. Tate was furious. Crazy mad.”

I recall Kingsley telling me how angry Tate had been the night she went home after her attack. There had been an imbalance between the anger he displayed against the magnitude of the situation.

“So, in essence, he planted you at the club.”

“And he gave us the address to your safe house before we attacked it. The intel was all Tate.”

“What about the tunnel?”

This man had shot me. I still had the scars as evidence. My body was still slow after the assault. And I had yet to fully recover.

“A total fluke. One of our contacts saw you near our headquarters and knew you’d have to cross the bridge to get back into your territory.”

I am skeptical about the veracity of that claim, but don’t think Tomas has it in him to lie now after he’s already started sharing the important facts regarding his association with Tate.

“Why? Why does he want her dead?” I ask.

“He offered enough money not to ask that question. I can only imagine he wants her out of the way to take control of Murray’s empire.”

“What else did he offer you?”

“A seat at the table once he’s in control.”

So many things make so much sense now. I give Tomas a vicious look then turn away, indicating with a nod of my head that we are done here. I have to get back home. I have to get back to Kingsley. Tomas Wojcak could rot in hell for all I care; the soldiers we left behind would see to it that he and his ilk are taken care of so they would no longer be a problem for us.

42

KINGSLEY

Iwake to the sound of a large explosion and debris shattering the relative calm of the house. I stir and rise, thinking I’m definitely in the midst of a bad dream. But when the commotion starts to get louder, and the yells and screams of men fill the house, I realize there is much more going on than I had imagined.