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Torture. Slow and painful.
“Of course, I can always give this to Dagger. I know he’s the only one you’d trust to—”
“No!” The word rumbles from my chest with brutal force and echoes inside the dark car. My chest heaves with labored breaths, but instead of rage, a black calm deadens me. “I’ve waited eight years for this, Calthorpe. I’ll put a bullet in anyone who gets in my way.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” There’s a smug satisfaction in Arthur’s voice. “X will meet you at Miami-Opa Locka with your supplies.” There’s a brief pause, then he adds, “Remember, this hit is just for the girl. I know you have a separate vendetta with Sergei, but this is my business, not yours. Do we understand each other?”
A vendetta that’s simmered for eight long years because of a weakness I can’t risk.
“Yeah, I got it.” With my mind racing, I pull back onto I-10 and head toward Metairie. Just before I disconnect the call, Arthur’s gravelly voice calls out one last time.
“Niko?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fuck up.”
