The man wearing Ray-Bans towered over her, a vulture surveying its prey. The expensive sunglasses didn’t keep her from recognising the low-down scum he was. Standing alongside him was the ever-present Baseball Cap, licking his lips and leering at her.
Good cop, bad cop.
The trembling she expected at this moment never came. A calm smouldering shone on her skin as she traced a finger over her brow to move a single hair, jaw set. Now that they were facing her – their sneers and empty sentiments – she felt a loathing for these men. Men without hearts, men without consciences, men full of hate who deserved hate in return.
She sensed the helpers were there too, prowling in the wings. She felt no anger at them. Wasn’t even afraid of them. They were just hit-men making a living. They worked to
