“You three idiots just don’t get it. Do you?” I eased behind my desk as I spoke and sat in my custom designed chair. Costing me a fortune, my prized piece fit my body like a glove and intimidated like a throne. The cushion compressed as I settled in, and the leather groaned when I shifted to cross my legs. The smell of expensive Italian leather rose to surround me. Without taking my eyes from the goons standing before me, I pointed at my brother Fahid, slumped next to them. “I want her found and I want her dead. You hear me?”
I shifted my gaze to Fahid. He gulped like he had just eaten a fist full of dry crackers and his life depended on finding a drink to flush it down.
“We’ve tried boss, they sent her underground,” interrupted the very large and very dumb looking thug closest to Fahi
