"And you brought me to him?"
"I had no choice."
"There's always a choice, Rush."
"Folks like to say that, don't they?” His eyes are cold and hard. “But it's not always true, is it? Sometimes, there's only one real choice to make, and you fuckin' make it, because you've got to." The footsteps are closer, now. "Don't say nothin'. Not one fuckin' word, you 'ear me?" His Cockney is back and thicker than ever. Funny how it comes and goes, sometimes.
"I hear you." I take his hand, squeeze it. "I believe in you, Rush."
His eyes fly wide, shocked at my words. It's too late to respond, though. He yanks his hand free of mine and grabs my arm in a vicious grip that'll leave bruises on my bicep. His other hand in his jacket—on his gun.
I don't have to dig deep to summon the fear boiling my veins—I let it out. All the fear, all the confusion. The horror of killing. The exhaustion. Everything. I let it all out, and suddenly I'm hyperventilating, crying, struggling in his grip. It's not fake. He's not letting go, even when I thrash as hard as I can, keening in my throat like a trapped wildcat.
"Rush, Rush, Rush." The voice is deep, stentorian, smooth, articulate, arrogant, condescending, authoritative. "You came through. I have to say, I'm somewhat surprised. I thought our lovely Miss Bryn Harris here would get her hooks in you." His accent is complicated—there's hints of Italian, French, and English in there.
He's imposingly tall—between my even six feet and Rush's six-four. His body is lean and fit inside a hideously expensive bespoke suit. His hair is jet black and swept back, glossy and gleaming. Clean-shaven, his jawline is sharp and aristocratic. His eyes, though—fuck me. They're black as coal and radiating pure evil.
The evilest human being I've ever met.
Yeah, accurate.
I swear the temperature in the foyer dropped by several degrees when he entered.
I've gone still, hanging from Rush's implacable grip, staring at the man.
I've seen his face.
I've heard the name.
Pugli…Pugli.
It comes to me in a flash—I attended a meeting Dad had with the heads of his various units. This was last year, I think. Before Zero's death. I shove that aside and focus on the memory. Dad was giving a presentation, going over the dossiers of people he considered a threat—warlords, kingpins, arms dealers, traffickers in humans, traffickers in stolen or illicitly acquired information. The worst of the worst. This man was in that presentation.
My excellent memory comes through: Roberto Pugli. Interpol official, middleman between terrorists, arms dealers, and drug lords. But not just a middleman, oh no. A terror in his own right. The boogeyman. Some of the crimes against humanity Dad said Pugli is known to be responsible for were truly nauseating. Words like "flayed alive" and "burned alive" and "melted in vats of acid" were used. Those were just the crimes Dad could list without puking, and Dad has seen the worst the world has to offer.
I resume thrashing, flailing, kicking, spitting, screaming.
"For fuck's sake, Rush, handle her,” Pugli snaps. "She's annoying me."
I prepare myself, knowing Rush isn't going to play this safe or nice.
He doesn't.
The backhanded smack is hard enough to make me see stars, rocking my head around. I sag in his grip, weeping, cupping my throbbing jaw.
“I thought you would have fucked some sense into her by now, honestly," Pugli says, gleeful at my visible pain; his hand goes to his crotch, fondling himself as if my pain is making him hard. "Although, I must say I’m glad you haven't. I like to take my merchandise through their paces before I sell them. It's more fun if they're…still spirited."
Oh god. Oh god. Now the knife and the warning make sense.
Rush still hasn't spoken.
Pugli sighs. "The silent treatment, is it? You're not really bitter, are you? You knew what you were getting yourself into the first time you took my money. You can't really have thought I wouldn't find out everything there is to know about you, can you?"
Rush doesn't answer.
Pugli is annoyed now—this is a man who likes to see his effect on people. "Hand her over, now. I'll get you your money and your contract."
"The price has tripled." Rush's voice is hard and low.
