“Racket, then. Whatever,” I reply, “I want a piece of the action.”
“What action are you referring to, little lady?” Bruno grins, closing the space between us.
“You’re clearly working to take down the Devil’s Wraiths and Dante’s Nine in one fell swoop,” I begin, refusing to budge an inch as Bruno creeps closer, “And there’s only one reason you could possibly have for going out on a limb and manufacturing a case against them. Money.”
“Who says I’m manufacturing a case against them?” Bruno asks, widening his eyes in mock innocence.
“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be trying to shake me off the case,” I shrug, “You didn’t want me reporting back to Mitchell that there was nothing to see at the clubs. Especially not since he put a time limit on Operation Inferno.”
“Maybe I didn’t want you around because I don’t like dealing with whiny little bitches,” Bruno snaps.
“Belle Taylor told me everything,” I spit back, whipping out my trump card, “You tried to set Tyke Bronson up for assault. One brother goes down, they all go down. Right? Pretty good idea. You couldn’t have anticipated that she’d talk to me.”
“I certainly couldn’t,” he growls, his fists clenching menacingly.
“Lucky for you,” I press on, “I’d rather get myself a slice of whatever you’re bringing in to take those guys down than play the good cop here.”
“Is that so?” Bruno asks, cocking an eyebrow above his reflective aviators.
“Sure is,” I assure him, “You know how to play the game, Bruno. I took a little stroll along your track record at the Bureau. You’ve got this agent-for-hire thing down to a science, don’t you?”
“You digging up dirt on me, little girl?” Bruno growls, his voice deadly.
“Just admiring your prowess,” I offer, the tremor in my legs beginning to grow. “I want to help you, Bruno. Whoever you’re taking money from must have enough to buy a second agent. So, who is it? From one turn coat to another.”
“I’m not a turn coat, you little piece of shit,” he spits, color creeping up into his neck. “I’m helping to take down two criminal organizations here. So what if I pocket a little cash along the way?”
“You’re right,” I say quickly, “It’s not like we get paid enough for what we do. Gotta find a way to pay those bills.”
“You making fun of me, Collins?” Bruno presses, kicking up the dirt as he walks toward me. “That’s not a very smart move for a little girl like you. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we seem to be all alone up here.”
“That...that’s true,” I whisper, backing up against my Mustang, “I was hoping we could keep things friendly—”
“Were you?” Bruno laughs, looming over me. His gigantic form casts a shadow over my gaze, and I can finally see his furious expression up close. “I thought I made myself clear back at the field office. I warned you to get off my fucking back, didn’t I? Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you bothered me again?”
“You said...you’d...um...” I stutter.
“Kill you,” Bruno says, smiling sinisterly. “Did you honestly think you could get in on my game just by asking nicely? You’re a fucking child. This setup is all mine, little girl. I don’t need your help. I don’t need the FBI’s blessing. I’m above the law. I bring my own justice. You think you can scare me with your little beat-up hooker friend’s word behind you? Please. I’ve been with the Bureau for years. Decades. No one’s going to believe a word you say against me.”
“Is that so?” I say, my voice barely rising above a breath.
A strangled cry escapes my throat as Bruno seizes me by the front of my shirt, lifting me off the ground.
“You want me to prove it?” he roars, holding me up as I kick my legs wildly, hoping to land a hit.
“Let me go, you so sonofabitch!” I scream, “You’ve lost your mind—”
“Maybe,” he grins, every inch the homicidal maniac I always feared him to be, “Guess that leaves you in a pretty sticky situation, huh?”
“Come on Bruno,” I try to reason, “just take it easy. We can talk about—”
“I’m through talking, Collins,” he snarls, hoisting me up another inch. He looks my body over lasciviously, and I feel my blood turn to ice. “I’m ready for some action. I’m...”
His amped up voice trails off as his eyes alight on a slight bulge at my hip. Bruno shoves me roughly to the ground, staring at me, horrified, as the color drains from his face. He snaps out of his paralysis long enough to rip the hem of my shirt out of my jeans, revealing the small, boxy device that’s been concealed beneath my clothing. I allow a wry smile to play across my lips as Bruno’s eyes follow the thin black wire that snakes along my torso.
“You’re...you’re miked...” he breathes, his voice a hollow monotone.
“That would seem to be the case, yes,” I reply, pushing myself up from the gravelly ground, “You must be pretty fucking far gone not to check me for a wire before confessing to your crime. Sorry, crimes.”
“How did you—?” he splutters, backing away from me with wide eyes, “Are you—? What is—?”
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice, Bruno,” I say, brushing the dirt off my hands. “I had to get a little creative. I’ve got your whole spiel is recorded right here. Think Mitchell will throw me a parade when I hand it over?”
“Now...wait just a minute, Quinn,” Bruno says, holding up his hands to me. “Let’s talk about this.”
“Oh, so now it’s Quinn?” I shoot back, crossing my arms. “No more ‘little girl’ now that you need something from me?”
“You said you wanted a cut of my action. Fine,” he says hurriedly, “I’ll give you ten percent of what I bring in.”
“And who’s this cash coming from, huh?” I demand, “How do I know your funds aren’t going to dry up?”
“They’re not. Trust me,” Bruno goes on, “the pockets I’m picking here are plenty deep.”
“I need to know whose pockets we’re talking about,” I insist, “Or else no deal.”