Bounty Hunter [REWRITTEN VERSION]

Chapter 26: Right Choice

MAIZE

She found herself alone in the next room over in Cassandra's secondary house, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she paced back and forth in the short distance between the draped window and the cluster of old cabinets that had been shoved in the corner of the room. This entire complex seemed to have once been used as a storehouse for the furniture pieces Cassandra didn't use in her casino rooms. Over in the larger room, Jack Martinez still sat bound to his chair, his voice now muffled by a cloth gag that Cassandra had applied once she had finished hearing everything she wanted. Maize was quite sure he had been knocked unconscious again shortly after.

His confession was simple. He had been called, shortly after his run-in with Maize and Alec, he had told them. He said he didn't know the identity of his caller, he rarely did, unless they allowed it so. But they had been male, he had provided, and their accent was most definitely American, and rather gruff—but then again, Martinez claimed he could say that about just about anybody in his line of business.

Maize's mind had immediately gone back to the members of Zmeya from the safe house, they were most likely the ones calling.

The caller didn't say much, simply asked for what he knew about them three—being Maize, Kishan, and Alec. Martinez was quick to say that he only gave up the information out of pure business etiquette—nothing personal. But that didn't exactly sell it for either Maize or Kishan. And especially not for Cassandra, who was more ticked than usual.

Based on the information they had been given, the one who called for them was one of the Zmeya members—probably the same ones they had left back at the safe house—but they had hired a different group of arms to do their dirty work. Or, Maize guessed, so that they wouldn't be directly to blame if either three of their targets were to end up killed in the process of trying to bring them in.

Further digging into Martinez's personal phone—with his password having been generously given up, courtesy of him wanting to keep all his fingers intact—only confirmed what Maize suspected; a hit had been placed out on them.

And she meant all three of them.

Their pictures were the first file Maize pulled up on his device, paired with generous compensation for any worthy information given up on them. Or better yet, their capture.

Maize could say she'd never thought she'd see the day where she was the one with a bounty on her head—but that wouldn't really be true.

Must have been quite the lucky break for Martinez that night. To have been in direct contact with the people he would later find out were sought after targets, by people who would pay him good money for whatever he knew. And he had known enough. Such a perfect opportunity, such luck. Maize almost couldn't blame the guy for taking the opportunity. She would have.

Though, she also knew there would have been no chance of her getting caught by the people he gave up—she couldn't say the same in his situation.

Such a coincidence that the Zmeya members even thought to call the likes of Jack Martinez at just the right time.

And now they were in yet another mess, and worse, one of them hadn't made it back, yet.

Maize continued to pace. Her feet carried her back and forth from one end of the room to the other before absently repeating the process again. She knew it was foolish, and it wouldn't do anything but fuel her apprehension, but standing still felt impossible.

Though nearly half an hour had passed since they had been off the streets, traces of the adrenaline rush that she had experienced still lingered in her blood. And it would not settle, not while her stomach was still churning with some unexplainable bother and her nerves remained prominent. She felt a heavy pressure in her chest that she didn't know the cause of—only that it had something to do with that idiot detective and her antagonizing mental 'what if' scenarios.