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Six weeks later, the last of his supplies and equipment had been delivered and the installation and renovations he’d wanted done were almost complete. Scott’s brother had a power of attorney in his possession, and Hutch was able to buy the building and the business. Scott had turned the upstairs into a basic apartment, but Hutch realized after being in the military for more than two decades, he wanted something a little more luxurious.
Dash, who owned the town’s tavern, and Trudy, who owned the B&B, had both been quick to strike deals with Hutch to supply their establishments with breads, muffins, and scones. He’d also landed contracts with Windsong and several of the other major estates. Now to get the architect’s design for an interior stairway.
He was still undecided about whether or not to join the resistance, but as he began to settle into the community and began to care about the people, he felt the call to duty that had drawn him to the military in the first place.
Had there ever really been a choice?
CHAPTER4
NORA
Getting to Mystic River was a major pain in the ass. She couldn’t just hop on a direct flight from Boston. It was almost fifteen hours from Boston to Kodiak with two stops. And once she got to Kodiak, she then had to take either a small, private plane or some kind of boat to get to Mystic River. And it was bloody cold in Alaska. It might not be that much colder than Boston, but she very much doubted Mystic River had the kind of amenities she was used to.
She wondered what the guy had done for the Master to want him dead that badly—it was a large chunk of her time as it wasn’t just a simple fly in, acquire the target, put him down, and get out. It required considerably more exposure for her than normal. This was the kind of hit the Master normally assigned to the foot soldier types. The logistics of getting to and from Mystic River with no one realizing she was the assassin made it far more time-consuming.
From what she could see in the file, the guy had little significance. Sure, he was former military, but he didn’t strike Nora as much of a threat. He wasn’t a major player—more of a footnote. It just didn’t add up.
At the layover in Seattle, Nora used one of her aliases to rent one of their private workspace booths—sort of an improvement on the old telephone booth—larger and pretty much soundproof.
Using her virtually untraceable satellite phone, she called the Master.
“Nora,” he said, sounding pleased to hear her. “To what do I owe this treat? Is there something amiss?”
Nora had learned long ago that the Master was only pleased if she was doing exactly what he wanted, had performed her last job perfectly, and when she curbed her natural curiosity and didn’t ask questions.
“I don’t know, Master. I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing here in Seattle heading to some godforsaken place in Alaska. The guy seems to be beneath my pay grade, and it’s going to cost a lot of time and money to take him out. Why not just send two foot soldiers, let one kill him, have the other one kill the shooter and get out?”
“Are you questioning my authority?” he asked. She could hear his annoyance rearing its ugly head. She’d learned early on that she did not want the Master to be annoyed with her. He had some creative and nasty ideas regarding discipline, including putting a bullet in the brain of a subordinate who dared to ask questions he didn’t want to answer.
“Not at all. You taught me to look at things from a big picture point of view and that’s what I’m doing. This is not the kind of mook you generally ask me to take care of. There doesn’t seem to be a real need for finesse. And why wait until he got to Mystic River from the Middle East?”
There was a soft chuckle. “It seems I have taught you well—perhaps too well, but I can see why you would ask. Your assumption that the man is more than he would appear to be on paper is correct. I can assure you he needs to die. Unfortunately, you are right in that normally I wouldn’t risk exposing your position for something like this, but the sad truth is I tried sending those with lesser skills to deal with him, and all three failed.”
“Three? You tried more than once?” This was shocking. The Master wasn’t big on second chances. “So, three different assassins?”
“Yes. The first was a pack of hyenas that blew the Humvee in which he was traveling, but then instead of ensuring they’d taken out their target, they went savage and ripped apart his entire unit, save him. Then, when he was back at one of the military bases, I had someone try to do a hit-and-run, only they missed. The last one was when he landed in Ottawa. That fool took it upon himself to change the target.”
“Change the target?” Nora was gobsmacked. She was the Master’s heir apparent, and he’d raised her. She was the closest thing he had to family, and she would never dare to pivot to another target. “Who did he try for?”
“Colby Reynolds.”
Colby Reynolds. She let that sink in. Reynolds had become a major thorn in the Master’s side. She could almost understand why the assassin had tried for him. If he’d managed to take Reynolds out, the resistance would have been dealt an enormous blow, one from which they might not recover.
“I take it Reynolds still lives?” If he didn’t, the Master would have been elated and singing the assassin’s praises.
“He does, and now Hutchinson is with him in Mystic River.”
“Do you think he’ll join them?”
“That is my concern. I don’t want Hutchinson entering the fray.”
“Why not?”
“That is not your concern,” admonished the Master.
“If I’m going to put myself at undue risk to try and remedy what three others have failed in doing, I damn sure want to know why. This guy has got to be on high alert, as does Colby Reynolds, who you say has taken him into the fold, so to speak. I’m not just going to be able to go in there, kill the guy, and get out.”
“Why not?”
