I will forget no betrayals. They will all be disciplined in turn. They will all be nothing, not even a speck of DNA. Which seems appropriate since they are merely females; worse, females who do not obey
.
But Lucy Kincaid is by far the most disobedient woman I have come across. I need to act wisely or else I should disappear
.
But walking away from her is not an option. What kind of man would I be if a female scared me off?
I consider my options. I can take her almost anytime I want. I let two good opportunities pass me by because I do not want to be hasty. Rash action leads to mistakes, and because of her family, I cannot afford to err. I need a plan
.
No woman will defeat me
. She
started this game. She
is the mightier-than-thou female who does not know her proper place
.
I do not fear Lucy Kincaid. She is no threat. The men in her life are potential threats, but by the time they figure it out, if they can, I will be gone
.
This situation presents a certain challenge
.
I exit the deli and walk to my car. Ideas flood my brain: how and when to take her. I must have as much time with her as possible to teach her. All the time she has cost me will be repaid with her obedience, or it will be repaid with blood
.
TEN
There was a time when Sean could have gone either way—become a criminal mastermind or choose the law-abiding road. If he’d ever doubted that staying more or less on the side of the law was the right choice, he didn’t now.
Sean drove to the east side, the most depressed part of D.C., with his notes on known Morton and Scott associates who lived in the greater D.C. area. Their criminal enterprise had lasted nearly two decades, and while several of their associates were dead or in prison—and a few appeared to have cleaned up their act—most were still criminals ranging from petty to Mafia.
He had time to hit at least one today. Because she was the easiest to track down, he chose the lone female on the list.
Former prostitute Melinda Winslow had been released from prison six months ago after serving three years for possession of heroin with the intent to sell. It was her fourth conviction in eleven years. According to the information Jayne sent to Sean, she’d been a regular “star” at Trask Enterprises. When Trask closed up after Scott and Morton went underground following the murder of federal agent Paige Henshaw—Kate Donovan’spartner—Winslow lost control of her addiction and had spiraled farther downward.
When she answered the door of her hovel, Sean nearly left, certain he had the wrong person. Melinda Winslow was thirty-six; this woman looked fifty on a good day.
It was not a good day. If drugs didn’t kill you outright, they certainly sucked the life out of you.
“Well, fuck me, you pricks can waltz in here whenever you fucking please? Pig.”
“Hello, Ms. Winslow,” Sean said, mildly amused. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Like I can? Last time one of you tossed me back in jail because I wouldn’t give you a blow job, and fuck that.”
She thought he was a cop, and Sean did nothing to dissuade her. He didn’t always see eye-to-eye with law enforcement. Some cops were just fine; others were too black-and-white for his taste. And some were, as Ms. Winslow so ungraciously stated, simply pricks.
“I don’t want to see you back in jail.”
She snorted, then rubbed her wet nose with the back of her hand. Sean wouldn’t be touching her or anything in her filthy apartment.
“I have only a couple questions, like I said. May I?”
“Like you need to ask.” She flung the door open, knocking a teetering stack of yellowed tabloid newspapers off a sagging bookshelf. She didn’t seem to notice, stepping over the fallen rags.
Sean stepped in, keeping his hands to himself. “You had a business relationship eleven years ago with two men—Adam Scott, also known as ‘Trask,’ and Roger Morton.”
At the mention of the names, her pasty face paled evenmore,
.
But Lucy Kincaid is by far the most disobedient woman I have come across. I need to act wisely or else I should disappear
.
But walking away from her is not an option. What kind of man would I be if a female scared me off?
I consider my options. I can take her almost anytime I want. I let two good opportunities pass me by because I do not want to be hasty. Rash action leads to mistakes, and because of her family, I cannot afford to err. I need a plan
.
No woman will defeat me
. She
started this game. She
is the mightier-than-thou female who does not know her proper place
.
I do not fear Lucy Kincaid. She is no threat. The men in her life are potential threats, but by the time they figure it out, if they can, I will be gone
.
This situation presents a certain challenge
.
I exit the deli and walk to my car. Ideas flood my brain: how and when to take her. I must have as much time with her as possible to teach her. All the time she has cost me will be repaid with her obedience, or it will be repaid with blood
.
TEN
There was a time when Sean could have gone either way—become a criminal mastermind or choose the law-abiding road. If he’d ever doubted that staying more or less on the side of the law was the right choice, he didn’t now.
Sean drove to the east side, the most depressed part of D.C., with his notes on known Morton and Scott associates who lived in the greater D.C. area. Their criminal enterprise had lasted nearly two decades, and while several of their associates were dead or in prison—and a few appeared to have cleaned up their act—most were still criminals ranging from petty to Mafia.
He had time to hit at least one today. Because she was the easiest to track down, he chose the lone female on the list.
Former prostitute Melinda Winslow had been released from prison six months ago after serving three years for possession of heroin with the intent to sell. It was her fourth conviction in eleven years. According to the information Jayne sent to Sean, she’d been a regular “star” at Trask Enterprises. When Trask closed up after Scott and Morton went underground following the murder of federal agent Paige Henshaw—Kate Donovan’spartner—Winslow lost control of her addiction and had spiraled farther downward.
When she answered the door of her hovel, Sean nearly left, certain he had the wrong person. Melinda Winslow was thirty-six; this woman looked fifty on a good day.
It was not a good day. If drugs didn’t kill you outright, they certainly sucked the life out of you.
“Well, fuck me, you pricks can waltz in here whenever you fucking please? Pig.”
“Hello, Ms. Winslow,” Sean said, mildly amused. “I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Like I can? Last time one of you tossed me back in jail because I wouldn’t give you a blow job, and fuck that.”
She thought he was a cop, and Sean did nothing to dissuade her. He didn’t always see eye-to-eye with law enforcement. Some cops were just fine; others were too black-and-white for his taste. And some were, as Ms. Winslow so ungraciously stated, simply pricks.
“I don’t want to see you back in jail.”
She snorted, then rubbed her wet nose with the back of her hand. Sean wouldn’t be touching her or anything in her filthy apartment.
“I have only a couple questions, like I said. May I?”
“Like you need to ask.” She flung the door open, knocking a teetering stack of yellowed tabloid newspapers off a sagging bookshelf. She didn’t seem to notice, stepping over the fallen rags.
Sean stepped in, keeping his hands to himself. “You had a business relationship eleven years ago with two men—Adam Scott, also known as ‘Trask,’ and Roger Morton.”
At the mention of the names, her pasty face paled evenmore,
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