The White Queen (S.Rogers)

chapter 21

Brooklyn sat on a stool, her back against the wall eating crackers, while the man tied to the chair in front of her began to beg. He had finally moved past the threats and the anger, as her silence was the only answer he was getting from her. She could hear his panting, his face hidden by the black sack she had put over his head. He still occasionally struggled against the ropes she had bound him with. But he wasn't getting out of them anytime soon, at least not without help.

After she and Kitty had eaten what felt like their combined weight in junk food, after her appointment with the doctor, Mr. Marino had sat down with her, in that hotel living room, and laid out simple rules for her, if she wished to help out with the current situation with the Russians.

There were rules, he explained. Rules that she had to follow. He had no desire to add to her body count. But he also recognized that she was needing the outlet to deal with her recent anger.

The first rule was simple, and one she had to do the best to not break. No killing, unless she absolutely had to. She had argued that it would be much easier for her to simply remove the people in her way. Marino had simply looked at her with that deep frown of his, and said 'no killing'.

Finer points to that rule were not so simple. Killing would be considered allowable, if it was unavoidable. If she was in a spot where it was either kill or be killed, he would consider that to be self defense, but she was not to deliberately put herself into that position, just to wiggle around the rule.

She had pointed out that she didn't really want to kill anyone. And she agreed that avoiding it would be best, but she was also practical in knowing that violent men often didn't give the option of a higher road.

Mr. Marino rationalized his rule with simply informing her that it would be easier to have talks with the head's of the Russians, if he didn't explain why half their men were in the morgue. As well as it would draw more unwanted attention towards their organizations, if there was suddenly a rise in bodies for the police and the feds to investigate.

He was more concerned, he explained, with stopping the shipments that were circumventing the already in place agreement. If she could do that with as little bodies on the floor, he would be greatly appreciative.

She rustled through the package wrapper, pulling out another cracker, the sound making the covered head of the man on the chair turn towards her. He pulled at his binds, before relaxing again, panting.

The heat of the warehouse was stifling. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, and it trickling down her back. And she had stripped down to her undershirt. She couldn't imagine how uncomfortable the man was, dressed to the nines in a three piece suit, complete with silk tie and shirt. She had taken great pleasure in scuffing up his polished shoes when she had dragged him into the warehouse. Petty, but it was the small things that gave her pleasure. It made the work less tedious.

He had been simple to grab, really. You would think, with the way she had been moving through the organization, taking out select people here and there, that he would have been harder to get a hold of. Instead, she simply walked up to him in a club, let him buy her a drink, and then let him suggest that they step outside so they could 'get to know each other better'. His version of getting to know each other better was trying to push her against the wall in the alley to put his hands up her skirt. He had been so busy trying to get at her underwear, it hadn't taken much to incapacitate him. Getting him in the back of the SUV that Mr. Marino had lent to her, without being seen by either his bodyguards or the club staff, had taken a little bit more work. Brooklyn had taken the time, once he was in the back of the vehicle, to tie his hands behind his back, stuffing a rag in his mouth to keep him quiet, in case he woke up during transit.