Page 30 of Out for Blood
Another window opens, then closes as more do the same.
“He’s online right now.”
Something moves over one of the screens. More lines cascade as more windows open.
Tyler shifts closer, attention zoned in.
“He is trying to buy a young woman from the Dominican Republic,” he informs me.
Pictures pop up on the screen of the woman. She’s beautiful and doesn’t look older than eighteen or even old enough to drive a car.
Squinting my eyes, working my mind to wholly understand what is going on as Tyler clacks away at his keyboard.
“We need him to stay online for five more minutes so I can plant a bug in his cryptocurrency wallet.”
The seller is negotiating with him, telling him everything he wants to hear, in code.
The emojis are a white heart, hands with the palms on display, chains, and the green check mark.
This means she’s a virgin, untouched, already captured, and ready to go.
My face contorts in disgust, my eyes looking at the clock in the corner, wishing time would go by faster. We almost have him.
I study the monitor as Tyler brings up years of his financial life, his mortgage, and his two car payments.
One minute.
He has a decent home with a guest house, three kids, and has been married for twelve years. I clench my hands as I battle the wave of nausea climbing up my throat as I think about how they have no idea what kind of monster they are living with.
“Got him,” Tyler affirms tersely as he scours over the screen, clicking away.
They continue to chat about how beautiful her skin is, andjackinthebox149hints at darker plans for her once he is through with her.
I replay his words to myself, I need it seared into me, dominating the forefront of my mind when we pay him a visit.
Google Maps glows on another screen, and I walk over to it as it zooms in to where I’m standing on the sidewalk outside of his house.
Close enough to make it feel real, as if I could touch it.
“How long until we go get the bastard?” I spit out, my hands twitch as they search for weapons that aren’t there.
“We are going tonight,” he looks over at me fondly with tenacity behind his blue eyes, “You need the practice, and he doesn’t deserve to keep breathing.”
Heat floods my chest as I say, “Well, let’s not waste time then.”
I stride to the closet in the corner, open it, and collect the blades.
Steel slides into my hands like an old friend.
I secure my blades in their sheaths in my holster one by one, with my favorite, the Ka-Bar at the top.
Guns are distant.
Blades are more intimate.
He doesn’t get distance.
He’s going to be close enough to feel it, every second of it.
