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“And I’m supposed to take that on a word and a handshake?”
“You can check it all out yourself. If it doesn’t meet your standards, you can postpone the kill. It’s a masquerade ball, so you’ll already be wearing a mask, and all the men will be dressed the same. Black tuxedos. Not a lot of variation there. It’s perfect cover.”
Yes, I’d thought pretty much the same thing. It doesn’t sit right with me that my target is now planning the kill of my employer a bit too closely to my own plans. I’m still not sure how much he knows or if he just suspects.
“Nine,” I say.
“Done.”
This guy? No, he doesn’t know about the contract. Maybe he suspects Dante is moving in that direction, but I’d bet he doesn’t know it’s already active and that it’s me. Drake Windsor doesn’t have the balls to invite his killer into his private study with a counter offer. That’s actually more Dante’s style.
“I assume this isn’t an open contract,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.
“Oh, God no! Could you imagine the scandal?”
“Then why did you invite five of my colleagues to this party? It’s really not your crowd.”
“Backups, in case you said no.”
“The money’s good enough, and you know I don’t have many scruples.”
“It’s what I love about you, Brian.”
“Then you’ve got yourself a killer.” I raise the glass of brandy and take the risk. This little bitch doesn’t have the balls to poison me.
When I get back to the party, I find Mina standing near a window, a concerned look on her face. I guess I did take longer than intended. I move in behind her and press a kiss against the side of her neck.
“Miss me?” Before she can turn or reply, I take her hand and lead her off through the crowd. I’d originally intended to take her somewhere where I could do filthy things to her and use that as cover to glean more information about Windsor’s security setup, but that won’t be necessary now.
“Where are we going?” she asks, surprised when I lead her toward the front door.
“Home.”
Chapter7
Brian
It’s the first week of October, and once again I’ve slipped out of the house while Mina sleeps. That woman could sleep through a hurricane. I’m sitting across the street and a couple of houses down from the famous Uncle Martin. I was right that he was the next on the list to send the kid to. I don’t know why he wasn’t the first. I guess Eliza just looked better on paper. People always assume all women are maternal, and sometimes a kid pays for that miscalculation.
I should know.
It’s a rich but not flamboyantly rich neighborhood. Stryker’s businesses, both legitimate and less so are very successful, and Martin was a part of that success. He was supposed to be at that meeting on the Fourth of July, but he’d gotten hold of some bad tuna and apparently spent the entirety of the night in the bathroom instead. I heard rumors when I was skulking around at Stryker’s memorial.
Officially Stryker is just missing—along with all the other men that were at the meeting that night—but they know. They know that many people don’t just randomly wander off to go find themselves. There’s talk that Martin was the one who killed everyone—or hired the hit at least. He wasn’t. He really did eat bad tuna. He’s the luckiest motherfucker in the world because if he’d been in that building that night, Aidan would be with the next guardian on the list right now.
Martin has taken over as CEO of Stryker, Inc. He’s the top boss of both the front business and the back business, but there’s whispering that legal provisions were made for Aidan to take over when he comes of age.
Martin’s house is surrounded by several other houses, each a polite-enough distance apart. Each house has both a generous front and backyard.
The front door opens, and I shrink down in my seat when the kid comes out with the golden retriever.
I know this obsession I’ve developed isn’t healthy.
My window is cracked so I hear when he says, “Good job, Baxter!”
The dog wags his tail as if a small child’s approval of his pooping habits is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And then they go back inside.
It makes me uneasy having listening devices inside this house. His Uncle Martin is a career criminal. I worry they’ll do a sweep of the house at some point and find what I’ve planted. I’m just making sure the kid is okay, and that my lack of self-control with Eliza doesn’t land him in a worse situation.
