Page 29 of Dirty Deadly & Mine
“Cool.” I flash my teeth in a wide grin and start pacing as I twirl my knife in my hand. “Start talking. Tell me the name of the man or woman responsible for paying you to traffic underage girls.”
“Men,” he corrects, and I stop pacing.
“Men? As in, more than one?”
He nods. “Yes. Yes. The MacKenzie brothers.”
I stand eerily still as I study Omar’s face. “TheMacKenziebrothers?”
“Y-yes. Julian and Stuart MacKenzie.”
“Well, fuck me sideways, Omar. I wasn’t expecting you to say that.” I spin to the girls behind me. “Were you expecting him to say that?”
Their eyes widen at my question, and I’m sure they think I’m bat-shit crazy, which I suppose I can’t completely disagree with. I do get a little crazed when I’m dressed from head to toe in my black latex catsuit.
It covers my shoes, and a hood covers my fiery red hair, only revealing my face. The tattoo winding up my left arm is hidden, and my hands are too, covered in black gloves. All that can be seen is how the rubber suit hugs my curvy hips and narrow waist, and how it clings to my C cups.
With my face revealed, though, my blue eyes, dark lashes, copper brows, and porcelain skin could easily give me away, but I tried a mask once, and I felt like I was going to suffocate. Maybe I’m a little claustrophobic.
It doesn’t matter, though. The latex suit covers enough.
All of that alone must make me look like a superhero wannabe, but my twelve-inch blade, held tightly in my hand, probably makes me look more like a villain.
The girls don’t need to be scared of me, though. Omar, on the other hand…
I spin back to him. “Do you mean to tell me that Julian andStuart MacKenzie, those twin do-gooders that flash their pretty boy faces all over the fucking TV ranting about world peace and women’s rights, are the brains behind this operation?”
Omar nods. “Y-yes. They are addicted to making money and found a gap in the trafficking market locally, so they decided to give it a go. Turns out it’s a more lucrative business than they thought.”
I throw my head back laughing, slapping my hand to my hip as I ride through the humour that isn’t at all that fucking funny. But it will be when I get my hands on the MacKenzie brothers.
When my giggling subsides, my face turns to stone as I step towards Omar.
“Andyouhave been earning a pretty penny off selling these girls for the MacKenzie brothers, haven’t you?” I sneer, and even though he whimpers, he nods, too scared to lie to me right now. “You pay your men to steal these girls? Is that how it works?”
“They tricked us,” one of the girls behind me offers, and I nod.
“So your men lure them in? Groom them a little, gaining their trust. Then what?”
Omar opens his mouth to speak, but a different female voice comes from behind me this time.
“They drugged us,” she snarls with venom lacing her tone. “It knocked us out. When we woke up, we were chained inside the back of a moving truck.”
She has every right to be angry at thissick fuck. All the girls do.
“Is she right, Omar? Is that how it works?”
He drops his chin to his chest and nods like he’s ashamed. He’s not fucking ashamed, though. He’s scared. The useless oxygen thief thinks he’s going to get out of this alive.
“That doesn’t sound very nice, Omar,” I point out with raised brows. “So I guess you call sticking your stumpy dick inside teenage girls training?”
“I-I…” Omar shakes his head, but I’m in no mood to hear what pathetic excuse he thinks makes what he did justifiable.
“Or was that justyouraping a defenceless girl?” I spit, my vision turning red as anger consumes me.
I give in then. To the beast inside me. To theCrimson Angel.
Leaping forward, I jam my blade into Omar’s leg, and his guttural scream overpowers the gasps of shock coming from the girls behind me.
