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But when Lucas’ name flashes on the screen, I bolt upright, hope filling me that he’s found something about the man with a scar.Doing my best to remain as quiet as possible, I slide out of bed, padding on light feet across the bedroom and into the hallway.
“Hey, Lucas,” I whisper, making my way down the stairs, through the foyer, and into the kitchen, sitting at the table in the breakfast nook.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No.I’m in the States, so it’s the middle of the night.”
“Shite.I’m sorry.We can talk later.”
“It’s okay.I was awake anyway.Did you find something?”
By the way he pauses before answering, I sense he did.
“I’m sorry it took so long.I had a few of my computer gurus work on enhancing the sketch to turn it into a three-dimensional rendering of what he’d look like.Unfortunately, that didn’t return anything.I thought for sure we’d get something based on that scar.It’s a pretty distinguishing characteristic.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Unless it’s recent.Or at least recent enough that any photos on file wouldn’t have it.”
“So you took the scar away?”
“We did.And also aged him down a bit.Once we did that, we got a hit.”
I swallow hard, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.This is what I wanted.What I’d hoped for, especially after Hayes confirmed that Esme’s sketch bore a strong resemblance to the man he saw.But I can’t shake the feeling that whatever Lucas is about to tell me is going to make things worse.
“Who is it?”
“I’m so sorry, mate.”
“Who is it?”I ask again, this time much more forcefully.
“Kane Kingsley.”
“Kane Kingsley?”I repeat, scrunching my brows.
By Lucas’ demeanor, I’d have thought it would be someone I knew.Or at least a name I recognized.But I’ve never heard of him.
“And he is?”
“You don’t know?”He sounds genuinely surprised.
“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”
“I guess I’ve been in the private security business so long, I assumed everyone’s heard of him.I don’t know if I’d consider him a legend.More like a ghost story you tell new recruits.Someone I didn’t think was real.He’s nicknamed theAngel of Death.”
“Angel of Death?”
“He’s an assassin, Creed.At least that’s how the story goes.And not just your run-of-the-mill hitman.”
“I didn’t realize there is such a thing,” I joke, trying to cut through the turmoil filling me at the idea that the person Esme’s been seeing in her dreams, who she saw at the opera, is a notorious assassin.
I worried it would be something like this.After all, a handful of people who claimed to have seen him ended up dead.That still doesn’t make the confirmation of my fear any easier to swallow, though.
“This fucker doesn’t have a conscience.Doesn’t care who he gets in bed with as long as the money’s good.”
“I doubt anyone who kills people for a living could be considered to have a conscience.”
“But this guy really doesn’t.He’s the guy you call when no one else will take the job.Nothing’s off-limits.Including children.I’m not saying anyone who works as a hitman is honorable, but most of them draw the line there.Not this guy.”
