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That I would handle when necessary.
I followed the unknown man into the parking lot, waiting until he’d found a spot in a more secluded location before finding one far enough away that he wouldn’t notice my arrival. I’d been trailed on several occasions over the years, confronted in locations because of traitorous scum who’d sold their soul for nothing more than chance to buy drugs.
I’d had assassins hired by the Cosa Nostra, the Irish pigs, and the Armenians. I knew a hired gun when I saw one.
The idiot who’d dared interrupt my pleasurable few days wasn’t sent here to plant a bullet in my brain. My thoughts drifted to Stephanie. It was entirely possible the reason for the man’s appearance had nothing to do with my family or my business. Whatever the case, he’d crossed a line that I couldn’t risk any longer.
He was easy to trail, turning the opposite direction of both my room and hers. The sprawling hotel took up several acres, various wings of rooms positioned in the shape of a cross. I found that ironic as I watched him head toward another destination, jogging up the stone block stairs, whistling as if he hadn’t detected I was following him in the shadows.
When he headed to a room, I pulled further into the shadows, waiting until he opened the door. I didn’t need to make this a bloodbath. If he’d made the mistake to arrive accompanied by anyone, I’d be forced to make another choice how to handle the situation.
I heard nothing as he walked inside. No greetings or any other indication he wasn’t alone. Just before he managed to close the door, I kicked it in, moving into the room quickly and closing the door behind me.
He was shocked, immediately pleading for his life.
“Please, mister. I don’t need any trouble.”
I studied him as I walked closer, darting a few looks around his room. There was nothing overt that stood out, but that meant shit in my world.
“Who are you working for?” I asked, still trying to place his accent.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m here on vacation.”
I lifted my weapon, pointing the barrel toward his forehead. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Who. Are. You. Working. For?”
“No, no, sir. I’m nobody. I swear to God.” When he started to sob, hunkering over, I let off a long hiss.
That’s the moment he made the mistake of throwing a hard punch. While he managed a glancing blow, my training allowed me to react immediately. I pounded my fist against his face, the cracking sound the bridge of his nose made as it disintegrated allowing a smile. He was stronger than he looked, throwing a brutal jab to my kidney. I reared back, smashing my palm under his ribcage.
Wheezing, he was pummeled backward but still came out fighting, taking a wide swing. I’d had enough, the noise a concern. After issuing two hard punches against his jaw, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he’d reached for his weapon.
“Die, Russian pig.” His tone was suddenly deeper. When he lunged forward, I quietly, carefully pulled the trigger.
As he crumpled to the floor, I kicked the weapon out of his hand, noticing it was Russian in design. Fascinating given his last sentiment.
I pocketed the gun and checked for his pulse before taking a few minutes to go through his things. What little I found pissed me off even more. In a bag hiding under the bed, there were two magazines of ammunition as well as a hunting knife. After five minutes of searching, I found nothing else of interest. While he carried no wallet, he had a cellphone. I slipped it into my pocket. Whatever he had stored on the mobile device should provide some answers. The man serving as my second in command could easily crack the code.
I glared at the dead man one last time. I’d been partially wrong about my assumption about him. He was highly trained, but I also had a feeling he’d been gathering information.
What the hell had he been looking for?
Was the hire meant for Stephanie instead? If that was the case, it was possible the lovely woman was involved in a case that had placed her in peril. Or perhaps this was all about a secret she was keeping. Either way, I would need to find out every scrap of information on Stephanie Morgan as was possible.
My need to protect her was strong, pitching against my desire for the woman.
The thought she was a target of any act of retaliation boiled my blood. Upon my return to the States, I would hunt down the bastard responsible. And they would pay with their blood for placing Stephanie in danger.
Goddamn it. Why did I have the feeling that Stephanie’s life had just collided with mine in an entirely different way than I’d originally thought?
As I closed the door, placing the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the handle and heading into the darkness, I realized that things everything was about to become even more complicated.
Another proverb came into my mind.
The devil lives in still waters.
How very true.
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