the killing coke—it means it’s traveled here, and well, a lot of people are going to die.”
There was a loud bang at the side of the truck.
Boss opened it to find Maurice. “I’m all set up in your office.”
“Adam, I want you to put this truck into the underground parking garage and bring everything inside. I’ll pay you by the hour, but I want you all over this, got it?”
“I’m expensive.”
“I know. It’s why I know you’re the best.” He left the truck and knew Adam would follow his instructions. Boss had a hunch and when he did, he always followed it. These drugs, the men tonight, the fear, the way they were, something was relevant here. He stopped at the doorway to his building and turned. Adam was already getting ready to move. “Is it airborne?” he asked.
“That I don’t know, but hopefully I’ll have some answers for you soon,” Adam said.
“Follow protocol. I don’t want you to exposed to any of this shit.”
“On it.”
He made his way toward his main office where Maurice had set up all the relevant security feed.
“I’m sorry, Boss,” Maurice said.
“I don’t want to hear it right now. Just show me what you’ve got.” He leaned against his desk, watching the security footage of fifteen different cameras. The woman in the blonde wig, he recognized her shape and face instantly. “There she is.”
She was with the target, leaning against him as if he was some kind of god. The look on her face appeared like a woman in love but he knew the Widow Maker. She was a deadly weapon.
Running a hand down his face, he watched.
“The camera by the hotel entrance. Keep it on.”
About thirty minutes later, Graciella came out of the hotel room, minus the wig. She wore the same clothes but her locks were now a luscious black and a lot longer than the blonde.
“Fuck,” Maurice said.
“You were watching for a blonde.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Boss moved to his desk, opening up his laptop and accessing the cameras located on the streets. He had permanent access to the surveillance through a particular software one of his men wrote, that allowed him unlimited access to the city whenever he wanted. This was how he was able to stay on top, always follow his men, and also keep an eye on possible targets.
He watched the woman in question go to pick up some food. The sway of her hips was so sensual, he shouldn’t watch, nor should he feel a stirring, but he had one nonetheless. Women shouldn’t affect him, they usually didn’t. Gritting his teeth, he watched her put her food in the back seat, and then there was a man in the shadows.
Boss tensed up, having to change camera angles, but the man took her down an alley that had none.
“Fuck!”
Seconds passed and Graciella came strolling out of the street as if she owned the place but he saw the look on her face. It was one of disgust. He recognized it well. There were many times he wore a similar expression.
Grinding his jaw, he waited, watching, but she left the street without another word. He watched long enough for the man who’d attacked her to come stumbling out, blood coating his pants.
It didn’t take a genius to deduce she’d cut his dick off. He had to hold back a chuckle.
Sitting back, he ran a hand through his hair.
“Is that why they call her Widow Maker?”
“She has a hatred of most men,” Boss said. He didn’t need to go into the backstory on this one. Graciella had been through hell. He knew every detail and it sickened him what men did to her. He also knew that most of the men involved in her kidnapping, selling, and subsequent rape were all dead.
There were gaps in the timeline he’d gathered between Graciella becoming a child sex slave to the woman she was now, a cold-hearted killer. A woman with no thoughts or feelings. If she came to work for him, he had no doubt she’d be fucking perfect at any job he set her on. He wanted her, but right now, she was causing him more problems.
“Leave,” Boss said.
“I’m sorry.”
“And I’m dealing with your mess. Go and assist Adam. He’s going to need your help.”
Once he was alone, he picked up his cell phone again and called another one of his men. “I want an address for a female, Graciella Moreno. An apartment or condo, somewhere nice, lowkey, had