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... h Southern drawl fills my ear. "I'd like to make a deal."

"What kind of fucking deal?" I snarl, gripping the phone so tightly I'm surprised it doesn't shatter in my hand. Every muscle in my body tenses as the truck continues rumbling toward our destination.

"Now, now," Isabella chides as if speaking to a petulant child rather than a woman preparing to slaughter her way through a warehouse. "That's no way to conduct business."

"I have information you need," Isabella contin ...

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