He knew, and he laughed.
The sound of my gun firing a bullet through his skull reverberated through the room, making a couple of guys cringe and cover their ears. I'd grown used to the noise, though, and the way the ringing in my ears fade in its own time.
"Shit, boss," Serge muttered, dropping the dead man to wipe his bloody hand on his pants. "Didn't feel like questioning him first?" It wasn't judgment, more amusement.
I scowled. "He didn't know anything more than I already know. The prick who orchestrated this is too fucking smart to give away anything useful to cannon fodder like him." I scanned the remaining Death Squad guys, then put my gun away. "Give these three a warning about breaking the rules of neutral ground, then send them on their way."
Without waiting for a response, I made my way back to the room where Zed was keeping Vega company.
"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Vega, and accept that your grief made you temporarily stupid as fuck." I paused, tapping my toe against the concrete floor as he peered up at me with sheer relief on his face. "But this can't go unpunished."
He nodded frantically. "Yes, of course. Absolutely. I deserve it. Hades, you have to understand I would never—"
"I do. That's why you're still alive, Vega. But you'll be taking one of my guys on as your new second. He's going to audit your whole crew and weed out any other turncoats. Clear?" He babbled understanding, and I kept talking over him. "You're also being taxed fifty percent for five months. Do you have anything else to tell me?"
He shook his head. "No, sir. No. I swear I'll make this up to you."
I stared down at him another moment, then gave a tight nod. "I know you will. Zed?" I tilted my head to my second, and he cracked his knuckles.
"Yes, sir," he replied with a slightly feral grin. He was just as bloodthirsty as me most days, and today I could tell he had some tension to work through.
I flicked another glance at Vega, then nodded to Zed. "Make it look good. We don't want Maurice getting ideas that I've gone soft."
Zed's lips kicked up, and Vega paled further. But he couldn't complain when he knew he would come out of it alive, and he knew he was going to have to take some damage for breaking my rules. Not just monetary, either. If he was leaving my property with his heart still beating, then he would damn well be wearing the visible consequences of his actions.
I wasn't sticking around for the show, though, and started back toward the stairs that would carry me above ground once more. A couple more Anarchy security guards passed me in the tight corridor, and I made it all of four steps past them before I paused, frowning.
"Hold up," I barked, spinning around to face the guards.
They stopped and turned around at my command, and I squinted at the guy on the left. He was in his late twenties or early thirties with a short, sandy-blond beard hiding his lower face, but his eyes flicked to the side nervously as I scrutinized him.
"What's your name?" I asked him, stepping closer. I tried to recognize all my employees by sight, but with almost two hundred just within the Timberwolves, it wasn't always possible. Add Copper Wolf staff to that number and the faces started to blur together a bit.
The other guy stammered out his own name, but I waved him off.
"Not you, Rixby; I know you. What's your name?" I addressed blondie again. "I haven't seen you around Anarchy before."
"Uh, Puck, ma'am. Adam Puck. I just started a couple days ago." He stammered, and his tongue nervously wet his lips.
Rixby cringed when Puck called me ma'am and took a deliberate step away from the other man like he wanted to physically show me that they were not friends.
I flashed him a knowing smile, then flicked my gaze back to the nervous blond guard.
"Hm, I see. Who hired you?" Because someone owed me some answers.
He licked his lips again. "Ah, Alexi himself. Ma'am."
I held his gaze, drawing a deep breath through my nose. "Rixby," I said, not taking my eyes off Puck for a second, "I'm going to need you to call Alexi in."
"Yes, sir," the other guard responded, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
Puck shot a nervous look at Rixby, then back to me. "Is there... is there a problem?"
I gave him a tight smile. "Yes, you could say that. But I'd really like to hear from my head of security directly as to why there's an undercover FBI agent in my employment. Do you happen to have the answer to that, Adam Puck?"
The blond liar blanched, then bolted. He shoved straight past me, sprinting toward the end of the corridor where the stairs would take him out to ground level. It was the only way out—that we'd found so far—so his only hope for escape.
Also a pointless effort because I had more than enough time to pull my gun and shoot him through the knee before he even came close to the stairs and freedom.
"Holy shit," Rixby breathed, his face a picture of shock. "I didn't expect that. How'd you know?"
I flicked a quick look at him as the imposter howled in pain further down the hallway. "That he was FBI? I've seen him before. The beard was new, but I recognized him from the team who investigated last year when Archer's wedding got shot up. I didn't expect him to bolt, though. The FBI needs to train their operatives to grow a pair and stand their ground."
Rixby gaped at me in awe. "You're scary impressive sometimes, boss."
I scoffed a laugh. "Sometimes? I'm insulted." The screaming was dying down along the corridor, so I made my way closer. "Go grab Zed for me, Rixby. And tell Alexi to hurry the fuck up."
"Yes, sir," the young guard replied. "You need help here first?"
I shook my head as I reached Adam Puck's bleeding form. He was too quiet all of a sudden, and there was something about the way he was lying... He seemed to be trembling. Or convulsing.
"Shit," I breathed, using the toe of my stiletto to roll him over. Foam coated his mouth, bubbling over and dripping down his face as his eyes rolled back in his head. Motherfucker had just taken a poison pill.
Fury washed through me at the lost opportunity, and I let out a short scream of frustration and kicked the son of a bitch in the side. It didn't matter—he was already dead—but it helped me get a rein on my temper.
"Fucking fuck," I hissed, putting my gun away, then running my hand through my hair in agitation. Not only had an undercover agent made his way into my organization, but he'd been equipped with a cyanide capsule? I wasn't high profile enough of a target to warrant that level of planning... not from the FBI anyway.
But if Adam Puck—whoever the fuck he really was—had infiltrated my team as a double agent, who was to say he wasn't double-crossing the FBI too?
Ugh. What a goddamn mess.
27
Alexi was less than useful in working out how the fuck the FBI had wormed their way into our house. He showed us all the vetting paperwork done on "Adam Puck," and it’d been verified by Zed himself.
Trouble was, it was a forgery of Zed's signature. Luckily for me, one of my new Timberwolves, who I'd acquired as a favor to Archer a year ago, had come with a whole host of useful skills. Spotting a forged signature was one of those skills.