A Silent Reckoning: Sinner's Empire Nikita Slater (smart books to read .txt) 📖

mercenaries in the world with a body count higher than Jozef’s, the general word on the dark web was that he didn’t double cross his business associates. If he hired Jozef for a job, then he wanted Jozef to do that job. He wouldn’t go to the effort and expense of luring Jozef and his team into an ambush.

Havel stood next to Jozef as Radik walked toward them, two of his own men at his back, all three of them carrying rifles.

“Koba.” Radik extended his hand and Jozef took it, squeezing.

Radik and Jozef spoke while Havel translated. Jozef respected that Radik spoke directly to him without pausing or stumbling over Jozef’s lack of voice. Jozef would bet his cut of the pay for the job that Radik didn’t underestimate him either. He knew the silent guard dog could and would strike without warning if provoked.

Finally, they got around to the package.

“You’ll have questions, I’m sure,” Radik said, his deep baritone voice serious. “Don’t ask them. You won’t get any answers. Do your job and deliver the package. I’ll transfer the pay once I know it’s safe.”

At first, Jozef was insulted that Radik thought he would ask questions about a job that had already been discussed in detail. Then he felt uneasy. Radik would know that, which meant the package could only be one thing.

Human cargo.

Jozef growled, gaining Radik’s attention. He signed swiftly, making sure Havel could see. I told you, we don’t transport human cargo. You better not be fucking with me; I won’t take kindly to a change in our agreement.

Radik had easily agreed to Jozef’s strictest term; he didn’t transport people. Now Jozef realized Radik had agreed to it too quickly. Most of Jozef’s other clients had questions about that term. For most it was curiosity, for some disappointment.

Jozef lived in the underworld of the mafia, which meant he was surrounded by prostitution and human bondage. He’d become somewhat immune to the pathetic men, women and children caught up in the industry, but he refused to participate. His uncle had tried to talk him out of that particular term, arguing that it wasn’t Jozef’s job to judge their client’s activities, that they were leaving money on the table by not accepting human cargo jobs. Jozef had stood firm.

Radik looked angry, but finally nodded. “I know your terms, and you must believe I understand. Even agree, to some extent. But I need you for this job and I’m not willing to compromise.”

Jozef let out a vicious growl and lifted his hand to give his men the order to take Radik and his men out.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“You don’t want to do that,” Radik said calmly. “I have a missile aimed at this site and, like you, a satellite in orbit. If you make a move, I will have my people fire, and we all die together.”

Jozef stared at the man, infuriated, tempted to call his bluff. There would be a five-minute lag between Radik’s satellite and his ground communications. Five minutes was plenty of time to clear out if a missile really was pointed at them. Only Jozef didn’t think Radik was bluffing. None of his research on the man had indicated he spoke anything but the truth to his clients.

Radik stared Jozef down, finally saying in a low voice. “Is your distaste for human trafficking really stronger than your desire to live? Stronger than the lives of your men?”

Though Havel knew the answer, he didn’t speak for Jozef. He didn’t need to; Radik could read the truth in Jozef’s eyes. He would rather die than transport humans to a life of misery.

Radik straightened, running a hand over his forehead, which was beaded with sweat from the heat of the sun. “You are an interesting man, Jozef Koba. You would judge the business of others, silently condemning, while running around with this ragtag group, setting fire to the world in search of profit.”

Jozef raised an eyebrow, not at all bothered by Radik’s assessment of his character. He’d seen the pictures of the aftermath of Radik’s own operations. He didn’t just kill people. He tortured them, psychologically and physically before murdering them and everyone they knew.

Radik laughed, his demeanor growing lighter. “Lucky for us, I do not intend for you to transport flesh intended for the meat market. You will be transporting something far more precious.”

Radik let out a whistle. One of his men opened the tailgate of a covered truck and reached inside. Though Jozef didn’t move a muscle, his team trained weapons on the back of the truck.

A woman emerged, her head ducked low so she wouldn’t hit it as she allowed the man below her to lift her by the waist and set her on the ground. When she looked up, her gaze met Jozef’s. Her eyes were a rich dark brown, guileless, yet somehow also world-weary. Her hair was cut short against her scalp with an army green scarf pushed back on her head. She wore a pair of fatigue pants and a militaristic shirt. She was dressed the same as Radik’s men, but the outfit did nothing to hide the ripe curves beneath.

Radik reached for her as she approached, taking her hand and drawing her forward. She looked to be in her late teens, perhaps around Saskia’s age. She dropped her eyes, staring at the dirt next to her boots. Jozef suspected there was no submission there; that she’d been told not to look at him or his team directly. She hadn’t had a problem staring boldly at him when Radik wasn’t looking.

Radik continued to hold her hand, but before he could explain what was going on, she looked up and said something in a language Jozef didn’t recognize. It took seconds for Jozef to realize she was angry and not afraid to tell off the giant warlord. She jerked her hand from Radik’s and turned to face him, pointing a finger at his chest as she spoke.

Jozef’s lips twitched and he had to clear his