Leroy Kingston.
He is dangerous. He is ruthless and he craves revenge.
As a mafia boss, he's used to simply taking lives out without even blinking. Why didn't it work with Katrina? Was it the fear in those sky-blue eyes that made him start thinkin...
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A loud noise wakes me up. Blinking, I open my eyes, but promptly squeeze them shut again as the bright light blinds me.
Where am I?
I rub my eyes carefully, but keep them closed for a moment before I can actually open them. New York's skyscrapers look out at me, but how is that possible? I'm in Spain and...
Oh.
I haven't even woken up in the bed I last laid down in! I am in the seats of the private jet. Gripped by panic, I look around, but no one else seems to be in here. How did I get here? A sharp pain makes itself felt in my temples and I draw in a hissing breath, squeezing my eyes shut. Damn, why do I feel so down?
"Headache?"
I wince and wrench my eyes open, whereupon the pain only increases and I groan, touching my head. Leroy stands in front of me, dressed in a fresh suit, looking down at me. His left eyebrow jumps up when I can only look at him. Then he sighs soundlessly and sits down across from me, rather than handing me the glass he's holding.
"Drink this and you'll feel better."
"What did you do to me?", I whisper hoarsely and immediately clear my throat. I would like to reach for the glass immediately, so much does my throat crave it now, but I try to control myself. Who knows what's in there...?
"You were only given a sedative so that I could transport you here sensibly. I didn't feel like having to fight you again," he answers me, raising his eyebrows meaningfully as I can only snort.
"A sedative? I was completely out of it and apparently for very many hours!", I complain. What's more, my head is pounding because of it. Most likely it was rather strong drugs that are now flowing through my blood.
"That was the whole idea," he replies unemotionally and hands me the glass of water again, which I slowly accept. I smell it first and look into it suspiciously, whereupon Leroy amusedly returns my gaze as soon as I look at him.
"I jammed a syringe down your throat while you were fast asleep. Do you really think I couldn't do it now if I really wanted to? The water is clean. You can drink it without worrying," he informs me and for a moment my head spins.
I feel my neck with my fingers and actually feel a bump on the right side and the slight burning sensation of barely touching the spot. Speechless, I look into his poison-green eyes again. Poison green because they are always spraying poison.
Just like now. Why does he always look at me like that? As if I were the greatest enemy he has ever met. Deep hatred is visible in his eyes, but why?
