He huffed out a breath. “It’s my job as district attorney to bring down the most powerful and rich criminals, Mr. Ghost, and in the last year I’ve pissed off a lot of men who’ve promised retribution. My other children are protected, and Luke should be as well.”
“You do realize he’s part of a motorcycle club, right? Tell him the danger he’s in, and his biker brothers can protect him.”
He snorted in disgust, and I knew I’d hit a sore spot. Not long ago he’d taken down a lot of high-ranking bikers near LA, too, so it wasn’t hard to figure out that he hated Luke being in the Kings. “I know bikers, and they’re drunks. They wouldn’t be able to protect my son.”
“But you trust a killer to do the job?”
“I was told by an underground informant to contactthatnumber.” He was referring to the Society. Booth had no idea who he was dealing with, and all he knew was that we were contract killers. “I had no other choice. You were the best option for me, and you have skills many don’t. Your handler assured me of that. You think the way any contract killer would, so yes, with the money you’re getting, I trust you to keep him safe.”
I leaned back into my chair and sighed. “You have another three months, Mr. Booth, that’s it. I’ve stayed stationary for far too long.”
“You said New Gothenburg was close to home,” he snapped back, the obvious tension in his voice trickling through the phone line.
“Be that as it may, I am a killer first and foremost. I don’t do this for the money, although it is nice, but it’s the adrenaline of a chase that keeps me sane,” I said bluntly.
“Mr. Ghost, I’ve paid you a great deal for my son’s protection, and I won’t have you walk away from this agreement. If you even think about leaving my son defenseless, I will find you and throw you in prison with the rest of the men I’ve put there.”
I smiled, a sinister thrill creeping through my body until goose bumps rose on my skin. Normal people never understood me, and what they saw as intimidation, I took as a challenge. He wasn’t the first lawman to threaten throwing me behind bars—and he wouldn’t be the last. All the other men or women who had tried to bully me had done it to my face, though, accidently stumbling upon me when I’d committed an illegal act, and they’d ended up buried beside my target where no one would ever find them.
“I’d watch your tongue, Mr. Booth, unless you want me to rip it out.My handlersgave you my name because I am the best, but don’t mistake this assignment for me being feeble. I could put a bullet in your head from five streets away, and if you threaten me again, I will. We will disappear quicker than you can blink, and everything you know about us will cease to exist, including that special phone number of yours.”
The Society had already informed me they’d rid themselves of Booth’s informant for passing along information that was never meant to be leaked to normal people, especially district attorneys. As far as Booth was concerned, his informant had a lot of unpaid debts that had gotten him killed.
I didn’t have to see him to know he was snapping his mouth closed. The audible sound of his swallow made me grin, pleased with myself.
“This concludes my update. As I said, I will only be available for another three months. Take it or leave it. I will call tomorrow to get your decision.” I ended the call without waiting for his answer and stared down at my phone. The picture of me and KC stared back from the wallpaper on my home screen.
My son. I would do everything to protect him, and while I had so easily chosen to kill Dean, a man I once loved, I wouldn’t do the same to KC. Dean was a hitman, he’d known what world he’d entered into, but my son was an innocent, and I’d be damned if I let anything happen to him. The Society wasn’t stupid, though. My commitment to them was strong, but they knew how far they could push. I’d made it clear to them the moment I’d adopted KC that he wouldalwaysbe off-limits while I was alive. Unwritten rules were in place to protect our family, but there were still idiots who broke them. Going after an assassin’s family easily meant death.
I dropped my phone on the island and sighed. Rising, I walked out the back door into the large yard and toward the garage where I knew KC had gone. While I was tempted to tell Luke what his father was up to, discretion was part of the job. As much of a fool as Luke was, it was none of my business to get involved in family affairs. I’d been paid to keep him safe, not tell him what his father had done.
“Pa, is that you? Come check this out!”
I smiled, my chest squeezing with affection I’d only truly felt for KC. Fatherly love, that’s what Zahra, my older sister, once called it. “I’m coming.”
* * *
Two days later,Luke’s bike was ready, and while KC had offered to take it to him after school, I told him I’d handle it. I didn’t knowwhy, considering I spent enough time around Luke at the salon, but I didn’t want KC getting attached, either. He had a tendency to like people, and once he decided that he did, he kept them close. The last thing I wanted was for Luke to be around more than he was already. I spent too many hours watching him to actually have him at my house on my time off. He was a schmoozer, the kind of guy who’d do anything to get free food and drinks, and everything else he could lay his hands on.
The salon was busy that day, however, and from what I’d seen of the people going in and out of the barber shop, Luke had his share of clients, too. By the time I’d finished up with Mrs. Edwards, the shop next door had been locked and the lights were turned off. I didn’t have to guess where he’d be. He spent most of his nights at the Kings’ clubhouse, drinking away a long day with a few cold beers—and a hot ass if there was one available. Luke didn’t care if it was a Monday night, there were times when he drank himself into a stupor.
Rolling my eyes, I drove past the rusted water tower with the faded yellow wordsNew Gothenburgpainted on it and toward the junkyard that served as the clubhouse to the Kings of Men. Not surprisingly the gates were still open when I arrived, but I’d never seen them shut, even when I’d come to spy on Luke during the infamous parties the club threw. Hiding in the piles of junk they kept around the place hadn’t been fun. They were a brazen bunch, not scared of being caught doing anything illegal. That wasn’t exactly surprising, either. By themselves the Kings were powerful, but through their partnership with Sloan Killough, the Irish mob boss from New York City, they were now unstoppable.
The dirt drive up to the house was bumpy to say the least, even if it looked like they’d attempted to fill in the holes at some point, and I was grateful I’d taken KC’s truck to work—with Barber’s bike in the back—rather than my BMW. I didn’t think my car could handle a driveway like this.
When I parked outside the busted clubhouse, a row of motorcycles was already lined out front, sparkling under the spotlights they kept on as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. I sighed as I jumped out of the truck and headed to the front door, but I didn’t fully reach it before it was flung open by one of the Kings, who I knew well from my reconnaissance.
Undertaker.
Real name: Mortimer Wilson.
He was one of the dangerous guys—the kind who had my fingers twitching for the small silver knife I kept hidden in my boot, under the jeans I wore. Leaning against the doorframe, he stared at me with a little too much interest, as though I was a bug under a microscope. His hair was midnight black and wasn’t tipped with a different color like he did sometimes, so I assumed he had a service to conduct at the funeral home he owned.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hairstylist.” Everything Undertaker wore was leather, and he had a bottle of beer in his hand. His makeup was more modest than the usual black lipstick he wore, and there was a suspicious expression on his face, his eyes narrowing on me as though he didn’t fully trust me. Not surprising. Luke was naïve when it came to me, but a guy like Undertaker wouldn’t be so trusting.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” I said in my politest voice. I didn’t need to raise his suspicions even more. “I’m Quain Beaumont.”
“I know who you are, we hear about you nonstop.” Undertaker took a sip of his beer and ran his gaze down me. The once-over wasn’t sexual, but it sent a shiver along my spine anyway. Assassin or not, I knew a lethal man who could give me a run for my money when I saw one. “Barber likes to snivel and bitch about you. It’s absurd.”
