Free Raines of Fire: The Alexa Raines Chronicles by J.L. Masters Page B

Julie waved.  She was carrying the limp body of the second target on the back of her motorcycle.  “I can show restraint, you know,” Lila said with a grin as they watched Julie approach. 
    Alexa sighed and then gave Lila a look of amused disbelief.
    Lila’s lips quirked in a disappointed pout, but Julie had reached them by now and there was no point in bickering.  As she got off her bike, they realized that her black leather gear was covered in a thin layer of drying blood.  “Julie?” Alexa said.  “Are you all right?”  With any other person, she wouldn’t have had to ask, but the poisons master was adept at concealing or hiding many things with her concoctions.
    Julie, in response, went over to the limp target and turned his head.  “It’s not my blood,” she said, showing them the man’s face.  Half of it looked as though it’d been shredded by a cheese grater. 
    “Shit, Julie, what did you shoot him with?” Lila asked. 
    Julie shook her head.  “I didn’t shoot him with anything,” she said.  “He tripped over his own goddamn feet.”  Julie was blonde, too, but it was a dirty blonde, and she didn’t have any of Lila’s ingénue qualities.  She was a practical person, which was why Alexa liked to have her by her side when chasing down targets, but her cool, offhand way of describing what her poisons could do meant that even Alexa wouldn’t let her buy their celebratory beer.   Now, Alexa and Lila both gave her a look:  Oh, really?   “I did give him a minor paralytic,” she conceded.  “But only because otherwise I couldn’t get him on the bike.”
    Alexa gave the man at her feet one last kick—a “stay down” kind of kick, not one that would actually damage the guy and tied a zip-tie around his wrists and ankles.  The biker made a sputtering protest, but Alexa silenced him by planting her boot on his crotch.  He was immediately still, quiet.  Alexa pulled out her phone and dialed.  “Eve,” she said.
    Eve’s face—bespectacled, chestnut pixie-cut hair—popped up on the screen.  “Boss?” 
    “Call up the client, give him the location.  We’re done.”

Chapter Three  
     
    She was blindfolded, but the air smelled metallic with a tang of dried blood.  She’d suspected something was up when he blindfolded her, saying that it was part of the surprise.  She knew she was screwed, now.  She screamed and tried to turn around, only to run into another body.  “My dear,” the new voice said.  “Don’t be frightened.”
    Someone removed the blindfold.  She couldn’t see any faces in the dark, but she could discern three men.  “We’re not going to hurt you . Well, not forever,” said the purring, smooth voice. 
    Her knees gave out, and she sank to the floor, weeping.  “Please,” she begged.  “Please, just let me go.  I won’t tell, I swear—“
    Another voice—harsher, grating—laughed.  “She wants us to let her go,” he said. 
    “All right,” said the new voice.  “We’ll let you go.  But first we get to hurt you.  Then we leave you next to the Interstate stark naked, okay?  And you have to beg the first driver who stops for you for sex.”
    It was as good as saying that she would never leave the room alive.  She let out a wail of despair.  
    “Take off your clothes, dearest,” said the smooth voice.  “If you cooperate, we might kill you faster.”
     

Chapter Four 
     
    “You really should get some rest.” 
    The beers had been bought, the toasts toasted, the laughs had.  The girls had gone home, or to their boyfriends, or wherever they went when they weren’t working for her, leaving Alexa alone in the dingy office above a Caribbean take-out joint to do the paperwork.   There was, for starters, the repair job on the Kawasaki, and the pending lawsuits, and the matter of legalizing what was, essentially, drug money she received as payment from her client .  Alexa didn’t ask who her patrons were, or why