Page 40 of Collateral Love
I grabbed her wrist. “You don’t go alone.”
She looked up at me. “I won’t.”
That was trust, too.
I walked into my office and opened the safe behind the painting Kenya picked for herself. Inside, the old tools waited. I didn’t choose out of nostalgia. I chose out of consequence.
The mirror caught my reflection—older, cleaner, heavier. But my eyes hadn’t changed.
X appeared in the doorway.
“He’s calling everyone,” he said. “Nobody’s answering.”
“Good,” I replied.
“He’ll escalate.”
“I know.”
A few hours later, X fed me audio through my headset.
The driver sounded fearful and regretful.
“I don’t know where she is,” he whimpered.
Channy’s voice came through calm, almost bored. “It’s funny that you don’t know shit, but you know who she is. I’m sure you know where he would take her. And you know who he trusts to watch her.”
Silence.
He began to breathe harder, tied up in our warehouse. The same one that Channy killed Natalie in. I was worried this place would bring back awful memories for her, but being here made her more powerful.
She aimed her gun at his shoulder and, with precise aim, shot his right one while throwing her Higonokami knife at his left shoulder.
The driver yelped out in pain.
That was the sound of a man realizing loyalty was a luxury.
Names began to spill out.
Not the one we wanted. But when we heard, Cameron, X’s ears perked up.
“That name is familiar. She was part of the pictures that were stalking Channy.”
X’s laptop chimed with a notification from the cameras we tapped into across the city.
One of Charles’s lieutenants was stopped by an officer on our payroll for a “random” traffic stop that wasn’t random. Another lost access to a warehouse he thought was safe.
Collateral love.
You didn’t just hurt the man.
You hurt everything he ever touched.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
I answered without speaking.
