Page 50 of Spook’s Honor

They laugh, and I push the door open a bit more. We see them now. Sitting around a table. Empty beer bottles and pizza boxes on the table.

“Yeah, pity they don’t have more women, maybe we could have had some fun. It would have been easy pickings I reckon.”

They laugh, like discussing the rape of women is just another normal conversation. I’ve had enough.

I push the door wide, aim, and fire. The bullet hits with a muted thump, the silencer doing exactly what it’s meant to. Rowena’s shot comes a heartbeat after mine.

They collapse across the table, blood slowly dripping from the holes in their heads to pool on the floor.

Entering the room, we check their pulse even though we both know they’re dead. We do a quick sweep, but don’t find anyone else.

Rowena pivots, checks the adjoining bathroom. Coming out a second later.

Giving me an all-clear signal.

We walk out, back through the kitchen to the entryway.

My eyes track upward.

The main staircase rises ahead of us in a broad sweep, disappearing into darkness on the second floor.

Rowena glances at me.

A small nod passes between us. We move to the stairs, each of us taking a side. Guns ready. Halfway up, we stop.

A sound. Not loud. A single creak from above. Someone’s weight shifting. A grunt, then silence. We wait a little longer, but when we don’t hear anything else, we move.

Continuing, until we reach the top, seeing one, long corridor with several doorways. Methodically, we clear each room, one by one until there’s only one left. We know it can only be his room. The door, like all the others, is wide open.

Entering the room, I walk to the bed and look down at the fucker who threatened my family. My blood is boiling and rage fills me.

I want to eviscerate him. My blood pounds so hard I can hear it.

The sight of him lying there—comfortable, oblivious, cocooned in expensive sheets. This is the man who thought he could take my family from me. Threaten my woman, and her mother. As if they were nothing.

I stare down at him and feel pure, undiluted loathing and contempt.

There’s no denying he’s related to Angel and Honor. They share the same face shape, but other than that nothing is the same. He’s an ugly fucker. Small, fat, and bald.

My hand tightens around the grip of my gun until my knuckles ache. It would be so good to kill him while he was asleep, but I wanted him to know who was putting him out of his misery.

Rowena keeps watch. Holstering my gun, I take out the vial filled with a deadly dose of insulin.

He stirs. A faint frown crosses his face, and I smile.

Then… a sound. Not loud. A soft whimper.

I straighten, but Rowena is already moving. Entering the walk-in wardrobe, she clears it again and finds nothing. We can hear someone though. Softly crying.

Rowena will find whoever it is and help them. We won’t leave innocents here. We can’t. There won’t be a house standing when we finish with him.

Pressing my gloved hand over his face, I wait for him to wake up. He does, eyes bulging as he tries to inhale a breath, and I smile.

“Hello Milo,” I croon. Resting a knee on his chest as he thrashes around. “Now, now, Milo. Settle down. I just want a chat.” Wild eyes dart to me. “Do you know who I am?”

Frantically he shakes his head.

“No? Huh, I’m surprised,” I sneer.