“Can’t say I’ve tried public sex.” Gabriel sighed. “I doubt we’ll do it again. What happens in Pleasant Beach, stays in Pleasant Beach. Now that we’re not there, he’ll be after blood again.”
“You never told me what you did to piss him off.”
Gabriel ran a hand through his dark hair, which had grown longer than he usually liked. He hadn’t had time to go to the barber, not with Ardan hot on his heels. “It doesn’t matter.”
Kirby’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “It does. What happened? You’ve never lied to me before.”
“Who says I am now?”
“Gabe…,” Kirby warned quietly. He glanced around the foyer and shifted closer. “You’re safe here. The Courtesan is a kill-free zone too.”
Gabriel knew that. The Courtesan was protected by the Society. No assassin or hitman could take out a mark at the whorehouse disguised as a hotel. Madam Winters had her hands in all the cookie jars, and even though she didn’t look it, she was one of the most powerful underworld figures in the United States. Everyone wanted a piece of the flesh she offered here.
Gabriel rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Ardan is someone I knew back from my Folliero days. The boss sent me out to take a target, but Killough had the same guy in mind. Ardan and I met then and we helped each other out. He’s got… a loyal thing happening. I think he owes Killough his life. I don’t know the details. So, when I betrayed Leo—”
“He got pissed at you. Thought you were a rat.” Kirby sighed. “So it’s my fault he’s trying to kill you. I could explain what happened to him, if that’d help.”
“No.” Gabriel curled his fingers around Kirby’s wrist, tugging him closer again. He let Kirby nestle against his side. This position had been a comfort to both of them. Kirby felt protected, while Gabriel could be the guardian he once was. He hadn’t always taken lives, he’d saved them too. “What’s happening between Ardan and I is nothing to do with you. I won’t put you in harm’s way, do you understand?”
“But, Gabe—”
“I said no,” he snapped sharply, making Kirby cringe away from him. He tightened his hold on him and cupped his cheek, turning Kirby’s face toward him. “Listen to me, Ardan Murphy is dangerous. He has integrity, but if you try to talk to him and he understands how important you are to me, he’ll use you to get to me. I won’t have you in that kind of danger. We’ve already risked enough to get you away from Leo. No more, Kirby. I won’t see you in any more pain.”
“Okay.” Kirby smiled as innocently as he always did when he was about to change the subject. “Come play a game of cards in my room?
Gabriel shook his head, grinning. “All right, bug, let’s go.”
Chapter Seven
Ardan did his own tracing this time. While Franco was good at his job, his connection with the Society, and Mancini, made him easily manipulated without him realizing. Ardan should have expected that to happen, but he’d been blinded by his need to kill Mancini. He wouldn’t be so easily excitable now.
It wasn’t hard to figure out Mancini would be heading to the airport. He’d want to escape Pleasant Beach as quickly as he could, and the most proficient way of doing that was through the airport. Like Ardan, he’d have multiple passports and identifications, so it was a matter of Ardan pulling out his fake but well-made FBI badge and asking desk attendants if they’d seen Mancini. He flashed them with a recent picture he’d managed to dig up from one of the only times he got Mancini on camera. It was at a fair they’d both gone to in search of a mark, and while Mancini was good at hiding his face from the security cameras, he’d missed one that Ardan saw. All Ardan had to do was obtain the footage and magnify the picture of Mancini. He did all of this six months ago when his search began.
It took him nine tries before an airline assistant recognized Mancini. Not only did she give Ardan the ID Mancini was using, but she told him where he was heading—New Gothenburg. He bought a ticket of his own, and nearly seven hours later, he’d reached the New Gothenburg airport.
The real task was figuring out where to go from there. If Mancini had ties to the Norse Lords, it only made sense he had friends in one of the motorcycle clubs here too, but unlike Pleasant Beach, New Gothenburg had four. The Kings of Men MC had a partnership deal with Sloan, so Ardan reached out to the president, King, which ended up being useless. King had heard about Mancini, but he’d never met him.
That left three more clubs. The Harlots, Demons, and Warriors. None of them seemed a likely choice. The Harlots weren’t fans of anyone related to the Society, and they actively chose not to help hitmen or assassins. The Demons were all about family, and like the Harlots, they had no ties to the Society either. The Warriors… well, they were plain insane. They didn’t have a brain between the lot of them and Ardan found it hard to believe Mancini would lower his standards to get their help. The only club Ardan could see him dealing with was the Kings.
Would King lie to Ardan? He didn’t need to tell Ardan the truth, even if Ardan was Sloan’s assassin. King’s loyalty lay with Sloan.
The thought annoyed him and he ended up researching King owned businesses right there in the airport. He came up with several matches, from a couple of nightclubs, to a funeral home, to a barber shop. One name stood out in all of them though. Lucas Jeremy Booth. The same name as the son of the Los Angeles County District Attorney. Ardan only knew about the lawyer, Jeremy Booth, because he’d made a name for himself bringing down all sorts of underworld figures. His recent aim had been at motorcycle clubs, but before that, he had his claws into contract killers. He’d always been after a high incarceration rate of the big players for his resume.
Sloan made Ardan research into Booth, which included Booth’s family. Four sons and one daughter. One of his children, Lucas, had left home at the age of sixteen and moved in with his uncle in New Gothenburg. Was this Booth a King? It didn’t seem possible, but it was right there on his research. Lucas Booth owned a barber shop.
It was too coincidental as far as Ardan was concerned. If he knew about this, so did Mancini. The bastard gave Ardan a run for his money when it came to knowing as many important people as he could.
Ardan knew what he needed to do. Mind made up, he rented another car—this one a little more stylish in the form of an Audi—and headed to the city. The barber shop,A Barber for Kings, was located downtown and it looked like one of those fancy shops from the old days, with the red-and-white swirly pole out front and wide, square glass windows that anyone could easily see inside. There was a shiny black bike out front. Ardan didn’t know enough to know the model and he didn’t care either, but he had a feeling it belonged to Booth, so he took a moment to check it out. The saddle bag was empty, as anyone would expect.
Hearing a throat clear behind him, Ardan turned, only to see the back of someone disappearing into the alleyway beside the shop. Frowning, he raised his leg and yanked out the knife from his boot. Stabbing would be quieter if he needed to take someone down.
Rolling his shoulders, Ardan followed whoever it was down the dank and narrow lane. With the sun out, it wasn’t dark, but it reeked of garbage and rotten food. Trash cans littered the sides of the alley near the brick walls of the buildings, but there was no one else in sight. He moved in deeper, the knife clutched in his hand at the ready.
Someone came out from behind a large dumpster, hitting him hard and fast. Whoever it was had agility and caught him unaware. He swung, his back hitting one of the brick walls as his attacker grabbed a fistful of his nice clean shirt, before spinning him around to smash his back against the other wall.
Finally, Ardan’s fight skills kicked in and he kneed the guy in the gut, making him double over with a gasp. That didn’t seem to stop him, though, because when Ardan slashed the knife in his direction, he rolled across the ground out of the path of the blade and jumped to his feet a little farther away. Now that Ardan focused on him, he realized this man was wearing a pair of expensive jeans and a hoodie to cover his face. No way to identify him unless he got that hood off. One thing Ardan knew for sure was that this wasn’t Mancini. Too short, and Mancini was a bigger man, slower because of his width, whereas this person had speed because of his slimness.
The attacker came at him again, but this time Ardan was ready. They grappled at each other and Ardan’s knife was dislodged from his hand, clattering on the ground between them. The person in the hoodie went for it, but Ardan shoulder tackled him, making him stumble backward. The short amount of recovery time he needed gave Ardan a chance to retrieve it and grab his attacker, slamming him against the wall. He pressed the blade into the person’s neck and clutched the hood, dragging it off his head.
