Page 28 of Dirty Deadly & Mine
Shit. Her words are laced with loneliness. It’s fucking heartbreaking.
She stops cutting my hair then, her eyes focused on the comb as it glides through my now shorter hair as she examines it. Then, any chance of me talking to her further flies out the window as she turns on the electric trimmer, its buzzing making it hard to hold a serious conversation.
Once she’s done cutting my hair, she turns her back on me and makes up an excuse about running late for the committee meeting, so I reluctantly leave.
I’ll give her the space she’s obviously trying to put between us for now, but if Lily thinks I’m going to give up, she’s sorely mistaken. I have something planned for her tonight, and I’m counting down the hours until she comes home from her so-called committee meeting to make it happen.
CHAPTER 7
LILY
Barrett is good at what he does, and the information he dug up on Omar Bertini is spot on. In an oversized house in upper-class Hedgwick, Omar Bertini lives amongst families of professionals. Doctors. Lawyers. CEOs.
He is a professional himself. The CEO of the TAL Group. Transport and Logistics. A company that transports goods of all kinds across the country.
Fitting, really, since he’s a sex trafficking arsehole.
It would be easy to think that he might be the brains of the operation, given his position of power. However, he’s nothing but a pawn, paid to do the grunt work by someone else. I don’t know who that someone else is yet, but I do know that taking down the TAL Group for their part will put a big hole in the supply chain. Whoever orchestrates the trafficking ring will have to arrange a new way of transporting the innocent girls across the United Kingdom.
Omar looks a little frazzled right now, his toupee hanging half off his head, kinda resembling a dead rodent which is clinging to a bleeding gash on the side of his head.
“Did you just piss yourself, Omar?” I cringe as I watch the yellow tinge soak through his white jocks, and I fake a gag. “Are you… scared?” I tilt my head, smirking at him, and his dark eyes dart around frantically as if he’s trying to figure out a way to escape.
I haven’t even touched him yet.
Okay, so that’s a lie.
I did knock him out with a frying pan while he was fucking one of his trafficking slaves, which is where the nasty gash came from. The poor girl, who was his victim, kindly helped me pull up his jocks—because let’s be real, no one wants to see that—and helped me drag him to the chair he’s now zip-tied to.
Her name is Freya. She’s eighteen, and before she was kidnapped from the streets of London, she had been a virgin.
That knowledge alone nearly made me slit Omar’s throat right then and there, but his victims need him to suffer. They deserve that vengeance, and since the back room was packed with another seven girls, Freya helped me free them, insisting they will want to witness this.
I did warn her. Warn them. But they all agreed. They wanted to watch him suffer, so I wasn’t about to take that away from them.
Now, they all stand behind me, watching as Omar pisses his pants.
I grin.
This is going to be fun.
“I know who you are,” Omar states, his voice sounding calmer than I’d like.
“You do?” I grin, raising a single brow, and he nods.
“The Crimson Angel.”
A few gasps sound from behind me, but I pay the girls no attention as I nod at Omar.
I wasn’t the one to make up the name, the Crimson Angel. The media did that part for me. It was derived from one of my earlier kills when I got a little too theatrical and painted angel wings and a halo in my victim’s blood on the wall. A picture of my work of art was leaked to the media, and they often use the same shot when I make the headlines.
Oh, Uncle Ewan, if only you knew what your sweet little niece does. Maybe then you’d be scared of me.
Shrugging at Omar, I take a step forward, and he flinches back in the chair.
“So you know what’s about to happen to you, then?” I ask, and he swallows thickly.
“What do you want to know? I’ll tell youanything,” he pleads, his eyes flicking to the girls at the back, like they will somehow forgive him for violating them.
