Chapter 2

Misha

I took my blue lenses off and, blinking to meet my clear brown gaze, undressed and cleared out my heavy make-up. The makeup always itches. I cleansed my smooth, olive-skinned face and took a shower. I slip on a bathrobe after drying myself and step out of the bathroom. They don't even have slippers under here; well, what can you expect for an average motel room? I dried my hair and put the towel on the chair. Putting my glasses back on, I opened my laptop and made myself comfortable on the bed. Brasove, the Russian mafira, damns them. I caught the last cyber signal from Jack here in Chicago, but now God knows where he is. While I put background software on to get any digital trace, my hands moved to the already made file and double-clicked on it. Last year, the Ritz Hotel was the most fascinating architectural structure in Chicago, from its owner to its staff to the guest list for today's event. I had eyes on everyone; I opened each and every file looking for a familiar pair of eyes.

An uneasiness and anticipation prickled down my spine when I finally found them.

Fuck!

Killian

"And where would this consignment land?" I sneered, pressing on the man's wounded arms, tied to the chair, and his blood dripping to the floor of the warehouse. He grimice.

"Look, man," he said, his black skin sweaty and pale under my gaze. "I have told you everything you wanted; let me go now!"

"It is not fucking enough, is it?!" I growled. I despise it when people steal from me, and I will not tolerate it if my cargo ends up in the enemy's port.

"Tell me where their consignment will land; this is the last time I am asking nicely." I dug my hand into his shoulder as blood oozed out of him. He screamed.

"You have five seconds or my men will peel your skin off first and then remove your limbs one by one while I watch you scream and wish for death,"

"They would kill me!" he cried.

"You will die here as well; the choice is whether you want to beg for it or you want a quick and easy death." I lean away from him. I extended my blood-covered hand, and a man put a knife in it. The black eyes of my hostage widen in terror, and I smirk.

"I'll tell you; I'll tell you everything, even how to get their exact location, but don't!"

He struggled in his bonds.

One of the men picked up a chair and sat it behind me. I sat and crossed my ankle over my other knee.

"Good, now speak,"

When all was said and done, I got up.

"Tell Alex to come to the den."

"Yes, boss,"

I took the piece of cloth he offered.

"What do you want us to do with him?"

"Dispose of him," I said, cleaning the blood from my hands, and I walked out of the warehouse.

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"Tywin owed a hefty amount to the Russian drug lord."

"So the Russians are behind it?" If she is Russian, that could be a problem. I sat back in the seat as Alex put a file in front of me. He stood across the desk in the study of the den.

"No, because I found no one of your description, either in the Russian mafia or anyone close to Tywin," he explained, "but there is something that bothers me: a reliable source confirmed that Tywin's debt with the Russians was recently cleared up; here is the full report." He handed me another file.

Richard Tywin's debts were paid off in exchange for a boy named Jack Morris, who the Russians had been looking for for a long time. A photo of the boy and a detailed biography of him were included in the file, but the name Morris is well known in the criminal world. Jack Morris is the son of Dave Morris, who disappeared two years ago. There has been no report or trace of it, but it is not surprising because men like him are really good at covering their tracks. But why do the Russians want Jack Morris? For all they know, he is of no value—not without his father.

"That is all." I raised my eyebrow.

"Our best guess is that she is probably related to Jack Morris,"

"She does know how to cover her tracks; what about the CCTV footage of the hotel?"

"It was erased and cleaned, leaving no trace of it."

She is quick, knows how to disguise herself, leaves no digital prints, and is a proficient killer.

"I want to know everything there is to know about Jack Morris," I ordered.