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A slow eye squeeze of relief. He'd thought I meant "do you want the family killed, too?" Further proof that the guy watched way too many crime dramas. That's not to say hitmen aren't asked to murder entire families - like the "job" Evelyn suggested - but it certainly wasn't a request so commonplace that they'd toss it off as easily as asking whether the client preferred a public hit or private.
"There isn't any family to w
orry about," he said. "He's divorced and lives alone."
My brain raced to figure out how this played into the baby scheme. A teen daughter maybe? Her baby so prized that they'd kill her father, too, the one person who might investigate?
"Any kids?" I asked. "Because they could be sleeping over, even if it's not his scheduled time - "
"No kids."
I stopped my fingers from tapping against the bench. Move on and figure this out later. "Okay, so this guy is the first mark, and then you need me to..."
My fingernails dug into the wood as genuine confusion filled his face.
"There's only one mark?" I said. "I was told - "
"Then someone's made a mistake," he said, his voice high, annoyance mixed with anxiety, ticked off that someone had screwed up. "I was very clear. I need - "
His cell phone rang. I waited for him to apologize and shut off the ringer. Instead, without even glancing at the display, he answered, covered the receiver, and told me to give him a minute. In other words, "get lost."
I would have complained if I hadn't been happy for the excuse to get away and collect my thoughts. I motioned that I'd jog around the block and be back in five minutes.
Chapter Forty-four
I set out, feet smacking the pavement, trying to jar free the ball of rage crystallizing in my gut.
Evelyn had set me up. This was a real hit that had nothing to do with the adoption murders.
I forced myself to consider the possibility it was a mix-up, that Honcho said he had a job for her new protege and she'd jumped to the conclusion it was "the job." But Evelyn would never be that sloppy. Oh, I was sure she'd claim a mix-up, but Honcho had already said the "job" he had in mind was long-term, serial hits, with re-con and researching work. This was not that job.
Could Honcho have tricked Evelyn? Tossed her protege a separate hit to test me while he worked out the other one? And risk pissing off one of the biggest names in the business? Never.
Evelyn had set me up.
I thought I was a real hitman? Well, here was a real hit. And what was I going to do about it? Run crying to Jack? If I even mentioned it to him, he'd do it for me. How she'd laugh at that - the ultimate proof that I was a wannabe hiding behind the big guns. A little girl letting the men do her dirty work.
I inhaled the icy air, feeling it scorch my lungs and gulping more, dowsing the rage.
Evelyn set me up to prove her point. Now what the hell was I going to do about it?
Would I kill an unknown mark to prove I was a badass hitman? I rubbed my face and swallowed more cold air. I wasn't a badass hitman. Never claimed to be. Never wanted to be. What was wrong with being what I was? If Evelyn despised me for it, why did I care?
I didn't care enough to prove her wrong. But to let Jack kill someone so I could keep my hands clean? My stomach churned with disgust.
What was the alternative, though? Refuse the hit? Evelyn would never let me back out and tarnish her reputation.
Again, what was the alternative? I did it or I didn't. Kill an innocent -
Maybe he wasn't so innocent?
I shivered. So that's how I was going to play this? Tell myself someone wanted this guy dead so he'd probably committed a crime?
I took a slow, deep breath, clearing my head. I couldn't decide anything in the next five minutes. I'd get the details, investigate, and hope an answer would come - fast.
Back at the park, the client was off the phone and checking his watch with little lip purses of irritation as if I was the one now keeping him waiting. As I strolled over, he cast a pointed glance my way.
"My wife expects me home by six and I have an hour commute."
