Unapologize

By: PricklySare

A/N: Yes, it's true... another chapter with the psycho that everyone loves to hate! Thanks again to Meg, who listens to me mutter under my breath, and laughs as I wreak havoc on the characters while I'm plotting each chapter. You're the best, Babe! As always, thanks to everyone who has read and responded to this story. I'm having a blast writing it, and ever review makes me want to write even faster. You guys are awesome! --Sare

Chapter Nineteen: Tracto Makes a Plan

Nychta had been gone for just over twenty-four hours. I knew that he'd already been dropped in the middle of that god forsaken desert, and it made me smile. He hated the desert, much preferring the anonymity that a jungle provided him. Now, the desert he despises so much will be the last thing he sees.

My time since he deployed hadn't been wasted. I'd dug deeper into his life, deeper than I'd ever felt the need to before. I wanted to know everything about him, every weakness, and every possible stressor I could find to make him suffer; even if he never left Mexico. It didn't matter to me if he knew I destroyed everything he held dear; all that mattered to me was that I would get to destroy the Mighty Manoso. A thrill of excitement ripped through my body. I knew that if he managed to survive Mexico that he wouldn't hesitate to execute me in the most painful fashion. That thought alone excited me. He would be a worthy adversary. It really was a shame I couldn't allow him to make it out of that desert.

When I'd fully raped every last bit of information from his past I proceeded to comb through the backgrounds of every person he held close to him. The men he was closest to had some of the darkest secrets. Some worth dying for, some worth killing for. There was one particular bit of information that I'd pulled up on one of his men, which could prove to be very useful to me. I'd have to think more on it.

I'd purposely left that Trenton tramp for last, knowing that I would want to focus my full attention on digging out every secret she'd ever had. I'd spent hours reading articles about her, pulling up emails that people had sent regarding her, listening to audio recordings of her voice, everything. At one point I had to rein my anger in, Nychta had gotten sloppy. He'd allowed himself to be photographed with that tramp on more than one occasion. He was cuddled up with her like he actually cared for her, like she was something more than just a little nothing to bury himself in whenever he was bored, whenever he was too far away to lose himself in me.

By the time the chopper had returned to the helo pad I knew everything about that tramp. I knew more about her than her mother, more than her doctors, and more than Nychta. I knew where she shopped, where she had her hair done, what she liked to eat, and when her last menstrual cycle was. By the end of the day I would know her feelings on everything. I needed more information on her. I knew everything, yet it wasn't enough. I needed more. I set an alert to notify me if her name was entered into any computer system, regardless of the reason. If her name or social were inputted into any database I would know about it before they'd saved it.

Standing up I went to the crystal decanters sitting on the sideboard. They were shiny, new, and the light refracted off the faucets like diamonds. The last set of decanters had met with an...accident when I'd seen those pictures. I picked up the largest decanter and swirled the amber liquid around inside it before pouring a generous amount into a short crystal glass. Normally, I wouldn't drink, but I was agitated. I needed to figure out a way to get more information on that little tramp that had destroyed someone as deadly as Nychta.

I stared out the window, looking down upon all the unimportant people who were scurrying around like ants. Not a single one of those people were worth the air they were breathing, none of them could ever hope to be more than little worker bees, drones doing the menial tasks of their masters. Being powerful was important, power was the only currency of success, and I was rich beyond belief. I'd done whatever, and whoever, needed to be done, to insure that I would be in a position of power. That I would have control over the unimportant. I will always believe that valor grows by daring, fear by holding back. I never hold back, so I will never feel fear. A smile tugged at my perfect lips and I felt calm again.

The newspapers had been informative where 'The Bombshell Bounty Hunter' was concerned. The little tramp had a name, but it was so...normal, so unimportant. "Stephanie. Stephanie Plum." I mumbled as I swallowed the contents of the glass. She had a penchant for blowing up cars and finding dead bodies. A tendency to put her nose where it didn't belong. Well, that tendency was going to help me destroy her.

A glance at the wall clock told me several hours had passed and it was almost midnight; late to most people, but not to the people that I needed to deal with. I had a few phone calls to make in order to set my plans in motion. Tomorrow I would be that much closer to my mission goal. I would be in control, and I would remain in control.

Reaching for the phone I dialed a well used number and waited for my tool to pick up.

Word Count without Title or A/N: 896

Bold Words: Babe_Squad Prompts.