NiKOLIA
HE WAS FINALLY HERE.
Pressing against the wall, I watched Jonny Hernandez stride down the hall, flanked by two thick-necked goons. The prick had the audacity to steal from me, and now he was holed up on this swanky, heavily-guarded yacht, probably thinking he was untouchable. I usually had my men handle these sorts of personal errands, but this time... hell, I wanted to look him in the eyes myself before I made him pay.
I peeked around the corner. The two guards had parked themselves outside a door, just under one lazy surveillance camera hanging in the corner. Perfect.
I let my fingers tap against the wall, a small sound, just enough to get their attention. Predictably, both heads swiveled in my direction. Like clockwork.
"Evening, gentlemen," I said, sliding my hands into my pockets as they stepped toward me. "Is Jonny allowing visitors?"
The bigger of the two grunted, "No visitors."
I shrugged, my lips curling in a half-smile. "Had a feeling you'd say that."
Before either of them could move, I launched forward, smashing my fist into the bulkier one's jaw, sending him stumbling back. The leaner guy swung, aiming a punch at my face. I ducked, spun, and slammed my knee into his side. He hit the wall, his head bouncing off it with a sickening thud.
The big one recovered, lumbering forward, and caught my arm, shoving me back against the wall, his meaty hand wrapping around my throat. Gritting my teeth, I drove my knee hard into his groin. He doubled over, groaning, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, slamming his head against the wall until he crumpled.
The other one came at me with a knife, wild and sloppy. I sidestepped, kicked his feet out from under him, and as he stumbled, I twisted the blade out of his hand, plunging it into his shoulder with a brutal thrust. He dropped, and I wiped my hands off like I'd just dealt with a couple of annoyances instead of armed guards.
Straightening my suit, I stepped over the unconscious bodies and headed down the hall. Jonny's room was just up ahead.
The door wasn't even locked. Typical. I pushed it open, stepping into a sprawling suite, way too lavish for the likes of him. The sound of running water from the bathroom told me he was inside. Good. Let him enjoy his last moments in peace.
I settled myself on the leather couch, spinning the key I'd lifted off one of his bodyguards in my hand, letting the seconds tick by.
The water shut off, and a few beats later, Jonny emerged in nothing but a towel. His eyes widened, freezing when he saw me lounging there like I owned the place.
"Jonny fucking Hernandez," I drawled, propping my cheek on my fist, letting the key spin between my fingers. "The man with the balls to steal from me."
His voice wobbled, thick with fear. "What... what are you doing here?" His gaze darted to the door.
I chuckled low, savoring the panic that was starting to bloom across his face. "Don't bother looking. Your little friends won't be coming to help you."
I gestured to the bed. "Sit."
He hesitated, but the glint of the knife in my hand changed his mind. He sank onto the mattress, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed on me.
"You know, Jonny, tracking you down was a real pain in my ass," I said, rolling the knife between my fingers. "Three damn months to finally nail your location. That's a hell of a lot of time for me to stew over the fact that you thought you could rip me off."
His mouth opened, but I held up a hand. "Save it. You know what I want—my goods, or their worth. Three billion. Those weren't just guns, you moron. We're talking custom, high-tech surveillance, encrypted systems. Artifacts that don't even hit the black market. You didn't just swipe some merchandise; you stole things people would kill to own."
His face drained of color, and he stammered, "But... I didn't know—"
I lunged forward, pressing the knife to his throat, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. His whole body went rigid.
"Don't play dumb with me, Hernandez," I hissed, leaning in so close he could feel the heat of my words. "Do you know how many of my men died because of you? How much blood is on your hands for this little stunt of yours?"
He trembled, eyes wide. "If you kill me, you'll never get it back," he blurted, desperation leaking through his bravado.
"Obviously," I replied, voice cold. I stood up, looming over him. "You have two weeks, Jonny. Either my goods or two billion dollars, or you're dead meat."
I turned, hand on the door, then looked back, letting my stare cut through the silence. "And Jonny? Don't make me come back here. Next time, I won't be in the mood to chat."