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The older man on the floor attempted to get back up. Pepper didn’t even think, kicking him sharply in the ribs. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as proficient as her hitman. He grabbed her leg, and she toppled down beside him. Pepper flailed her arms as he tried to strike her.
The sound of a gun cocking ended the struggle. Viper stood over the other man. He pressed the muzzle firm to his forehead. “Name. Now.”
“Giovanni Bianchi.”
“Who hired you?”
There was a pause. “He didn’t tell me his name.”
Viper pistol-whipped him, hard, then returned the gun to his head. “Last chance. Tell me something.”
The old man began sobbing. “It was su
pposed to look like an overdose. That’s all I know, I swear.”
Viper shifted his attention to her, not moving his position. “Turn your head.”
She did as he told her, and then the blast of a gunshot shocked her to the core. Pepper curled up in a ball and screamed.
Moments later, strong hands pried her fingers from face. “Open your eyes, Pepper.”
She peeked up to find Viper standing over her. He returned his gun to his holster, then reached down to hoist her effortlessly up to her feet. “Are they dead?” she asked.
He nodded, his hands still on her sides under her arms. They were so close. The room was quiet enough to hear the wall clock ticking, every second matching the rapid beat of her heart. “You tried to help me,” he said, barely above a whisper.
Pepper shrugged. “I didn’t want him to hurt you.”
No one had ever looked at her the way Viper did just now. He saw beyond the surface, maybe all the way to her soul, a look of disbelief making the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“You’re a complication,” he said, no hint of emotion. God, she hoped for more from him. She was a mess, a basket-case of emotional instability. Pepper needed to be reassured, comforted, anything. How could he be so numb? Was he a complete sociopath?
The brief moment of silence and what she optimistically perceived as intimacy was doused when Viper’s cellphone rang. He pulled away so abruptly she felt dizzy.
“About time,” he answered.
After listening for a minute, he froze, turning to look at her as he lowered the hand holding the cell. For the first time, she swore she saw a brief wave of emotion behind in his dark eyes. She knew what it was because it kept her sleepless most nights—regret.
Chapter Three
“Don’t you ever send me a fucking text again!” Viper made sure he got that out before he forgot. There were only a few words that he’d been able to make out, and that was because they were the only words he’d known: more, kill, money. Three words, and everything else had meant nothing to him.
Yeah, it was fucking hilarious.
No one knew his weakness, not even Boss. When he had joined the corporation, he had demanded that all correspondence be done via phone call. No one had argued with him. Gritting his teeth, he looked back into the hotel room. It seemed that darling step-daddy hired as many people as possible to make sure that she disappeared permanently.
This was going to be a harder mess to clean up.
“Did you phone me to bitch, or do you need something?” Boss asked. “I take it the complications are dead?”
“Of course they are. The room is registered in her name. Our bright little princess didn’t think to use an alias. That’s what created this complication.”
Boss swore.
“Any chance he’s paid up what money he owes you?” he asked.
“Nope. Bastard is conveniently not returning my calls. She stays alive until I give you further notice. I want your exact location, and I’ll send in the cleaning crew. You will need to wrap them up, and I’ll handle disposal.”
“Got it.” He hung up the cell phone, and stared at the mess. “Your stepfather wants you dead. What he doesn’t seem to have figured out is that the moment you put a mass fucking hit on one person, the likelihood of them making it look natural is out the fucking window.”
