Plain Jane and the Hitman

by Tmonique Stephens

  A glimpse of his brown eyes and blond mustache was all she got, then he spun and walked back to the head of the line where he, his guests, and the captain entered the bridge. She wondered about Emmet and Hank but didn’t have time to dwell. The crew broke into a flurry of activity, all of it seemed orchestrated. Half went below deck, the other half headed down the gangplank. She headed with the latter half who divided their efforts between unloading the limo and restocking the ship with food and other goods, along with dock workers.

  Bailey kept walking, her pace steady as if she knew exactly where to go when in truth, she winged it. However, no one stopped her. She made it outside of the docks and through the terminal and onto the street. The first person she saw—a woman—she stopped and asked in German for the nearest taxi stand. The woman directed her to the main thoroughfare where she found a taxi idling at the curb.

  Logic dictated she'd head for the nearest airport. Bailey did the opposite, because in this situation, on the run from a killer and her ex-lover, also a killer, being predictable was sure to get her caught and possibly dead. "Take me to the train station."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Where is he?” Hank grumbled from his seat on the sofa. “The boat docked almost two hours ago.”

  Across the room, Emmet poured two cups of black coffee and delivered one to Hank. “Not enough sleep?”

  Hank grunted, a combination of thanks for the coffee and an agreement to his lack of sleep. Emmet sympathized over the absence of shut-eye, though his reasons were completely different.

  Bailey…

  Warmth flooded his chest at the same time his gut clenched.

  “You all right over there?” Hank studied Emmet over the rim of his cup.

  Staring into the black brew cradled in his hands, Emmet realized he wasn’t all right. However, the reason for his disquiet, that he couldn’t share. There wasn’t a way to explain after a night of making love to Hank’s daughter, leaving her on her doorstep when all the killing was over, wasn’t going to happen.

  He wanted her. Period. She’d seeped beneath his skin, got into his bloodstream.

  Emmet cranked his head around and locked eyes on Hank. “I’m keeping her.”

  A single eyebrow arched as steam curled from Hank’s cup. “You sure about that, boy?”

  Emmet placed his cup on the coffee table and climbed to his feet. He was nobody’s boy. He faced his mentor without taking offense at the slight. After all, regardless of Hank not being father of the year, he was still her father.

  “Yes, sir. I am.”

  “She feel the same way?” Hank demanded through lips that barely moved.

  After last night… “Yes, sir.”

  A grimace crossed Hank’s face, then settled into a wary acceptance. “You better be serious about this, Emmet. Being with my daughter means you’re not in the agency anymore. You can’t have it both ways. Understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He shook his head and gave his signature sigh, meaning he was resigned to Emmet and his daughter as a couple. “And don’t think you’re gonna shack up with her without a ring.” He glared.

  Him, a married man? The thought terrified him, though didn’t make him want to run. “All in due time.”

  “There’s a reason why they call it a shotgun wedding.”

  “Someone getting married?” Julius entered the room with an assistant trailing behind him—a tall, full-figured African American woman in her mid-twenties with a no-nonsense demeanor whose neutral features seemed cast in granite. He wondered if she’d ever played poker.

  “Yes,” Hank said, rising to shake Julius’ hand.

  “No.” Emmet countered, annoyed at having to defend himself.

  “He’s in love with my daughter. So, yes. He will be getting married in the near future if he wants to make it to thirty-three.”

  Julius turned to Emmet. They slapped palms and met for a bro-hug. Friends since Hank mistakenly dropped fifteen-year-old Emmet off at a boarding school in Massachusetts. Their friendship had made that year bearable. “She better be worth it to have you in Hank’s crosshairs and using my master suite before I’ve even had a chance to see it,” Julius murmured in Emmet’s ear.

  “She’s worth it,” Emmet replied loudly, then whispered, “We’ve enjoyed every inch of your suite.”

  Julius snorted. "Well, make sure I get an invite." He lowered himself into a leather chair on the other side of the coffee table. He held out his hand, and his assistant whipped out a document from a manila folder and passed it over. "Thank you, Miss Coleman. You may leave."

  The assistant tipped her head in her boss’s direction, spun on her sensible heels, and headed for the exit. Julius waited until the door closed behind her to give Emmet and Hank his undivided attention. “I need a favor.”

  Both Emmet and Hank waited for Julius to continue.

  “I can’t tell you what it is because things are…fluid. This is the type of favor where I can’t allow you to refuse, that’s why I’ve bought a contract.”

  Emmet shrugged. “Anything you need, Julius, ask, contract or not, it’s yours. However, we are in the middle of a war right now.”

  Hank interrupted with, “Who do you want dead, boy?”

  Julius’ gaze cut to Hank. “No one, yet, old man. But when I do need someone killed, there will be no questions asked. I want it done immediately without discussion.”

  “And you think a contract will guarantee my compliance, boy?” Hank mocked Julius and leaned forward.

  Ever the gentleman, Julius crossed his legs, but Emmet wasn’t fooled. While he was no operative, Julius was no lightweight.

  “The contract isn’t for you, old man.” Julius’ gaze cut back to Emmet. “It’s for you.”

  Emmet opened his hand for the document with the pen clipped to the edge. He flipped to the back page. Julius had already scribbled his signature on the top line next to his printed name. Miss Calico Coleman and her notary stamp occupied a space near the bottom of the page. A blank line next to his name waited. Emmet didn’t hesitate. He scribbled his signature.

  Hank leaped to his feet. "What are you doing? You're not going to sign that without reading it," he shouted though it was too late.

  Emmet closed the document, dropped the Montblanc on top, and slid everything back to Julius. “Of course I’m going to sign it. First,”— he held up a finger—“Julius is my friend.” He held a second finger. “He has billions, so stealing from me is absurd.” A third finger popped up. “Whatever he needs it must be important for him to go to this length to secure my absolute cooperation when he could’ve just asked.” A fourth finger joined the rest. “If he betrays me, the friendship is over, and he knows what I do to my enemies.” Emmet ended with an indulgent chuckle.

  A knock sounded at the closed doors to the lounge and then opened with a slight swoosh. The assistant had returned, followed by the chef with a cart laden with everything a person could want for breakfast. Julius' gaze followed her as she helped lay out a morning feast and didn't stop until she delivered him a steaming mug of coffee. Apparently, Emmet wasn't the only one who had it bad.

  “Is there anything else you may need, Mr. Morgan?” For a woman, she had a deep, slightly husky voice.

  “No, Miss Coleman. You may leave.”

  With a signal to the chef, they both departed, the signed paperwork in her hand.

  "I'm not your enemy, and I value our friendship." Julius continued as if they hadn't been interrupted. "You're one of the few friends I have. I could've gone to someone else, but I came to you because I trust you. As you trust me, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Besides, it may not come to me needing you to kill anyone. I like having the option."

  Emmet was onboard while Hank kept his opinion to himself, which was as close to a seal of approval Julius would get.

  “Now, how goes your war against your former associates?” Julius switched subjects smoothly.

  “We’re hiding on your yacht; how do yo
u think it goes?” Hank growled.

  Emmet ignored him. “We’ve killed almost everyone helping him. Only Ivan is left. I snapped Jerrod’s neck at the chalet in Switzerland.”

  “Unless he recruited more, as we had planned.” Hank headed for the buffet.

  “I’d forgotten what a ray of sunshine Hank is.” Julius chuckled.

  “I’m too old to change.” Hank groused and returned with a plate of pancakes and bacon for Emmet, and a plate with an egg white omelet and turkey sausage for himself. He had a slight cholesterol issue. His one concession to his advanced age.

  “How is your daughter handling it?” Julius questioned.

  “Ask him.” He tipped his head to Emmet.

  “Handling it? She’s amazing.” And she wasn’t here where he needed her to be, at his side, meeting his best friend. “I want you to meet her.”

  He was on his feet and striding through the ship without a second thought, the need to see her driving him forward to the master suite.

  “Bailey.” He expected to find her still beneath the covers. She wasn’t there. Neither was she in the bathroom, though a discarded towel lay in a pile on the floor. Maybe she was in the kitchen making breakfast? But she wasn’t there either, and nor in the dining room. A sense of urgency propelled him out of the suite and back through the ship. He had to find her, now.

  “May I be of help, sir?” The steward stepped out of his private office and into Emmet’s path.

  “Yeah. Have you seen Bailey?”

  “She was on her way to the pool and sauna roughly an hour ago.”

  Emmet headed that way with the steward trailing him. He threw open the door and marched over to the empty pool, noticing not a towel out of place, not even a wet spot on the tile indicating someone had taken a dip. And the sauna, it wasn’t even on.

  “Security cameras,” he said more to himself than the steward. He ran there and shoved the security guard out of his seat. He didn’t need help manipulating the camera and looping through the day’s video.

  Bailey appeared outside of the suite dressed in a robe with a towel bundled under her arm. A towel she didn’t need since there were plenty already at the pool. She did enter the pool, where there were no cameras, and exited when the passageway cleared. She darted down the passageway, to a door he’d never paid attention to before.”

  “What is that room?” He pointed to it on the screen.

  The steward leaned over Emmet's shoulder. "The linen closet, sir. All the staff were upstairs awaiting Mr. Morgan's arrival; otherwise, someone would have seen her enter the room."

  He didn’t have long to wait for Bailey to exit, except now, she was dressed in the navy and sky blue colors of the crewmen’s uniform, right down to the down jacket and skull cap. She blended perfectly with the crew, except for her sneakers.

  Through a series of cameras, he observed her winding her way through the ship and emerge topside where she met Julius, and then mingled with the crew and walked off the boat.

  Emmet pushed back from the monitor and rose.

  “Sir, is there anything I can do to—”

  The rest of his question was drowned out by distance and the drum of his heartbeat in his ears. That’s what hurt the most, she planned all of it. While he was inside her, she planned to leave. He pulled his cell out of his back pocket and called Bailey’s cell, because though she didn’t have her phone, at some point she’d check her voicemails and reconnect with her world.

  “Hi, you’ve reached me, but I’m not available. Leave a message.” The longest ten seconds of his life passed, then

  "I will find you, Bailey. Understand me. All you've done is stick your neck out for a garrote." He slammed his fist into the nearest wall. It was either that or crumble the phone in his hand, and he needed the phone. "I can't believe you could be this stupid. If you have any sense at all, you will find a hole to crawl into and stay there 'till I find you. Do you understand me, Bailey? Get someplace safe. I'm on my way." And whatever caused you to run, I’ll fix it.

  Back through the boat he traveled passing Hank and Julius who’d come to find him. “Where’s Bailey?” Hank demanded.

  Bursting back into the master suite, Emmet headed straight for the walk-in closet and the duffle bag beneath the satin bench. He snatched up the duffle bag with the passports and money. The damn thing felt light. Do not tell me she—

  Yanking it open confirmed what he’d already guessed. All the passports and credit cards were gone, along with a brick of cash. She’d cut him off at the knees. If he weren’t so enraged, he’d be impressed. If she weren’t in danger, he’d be laughing his ass off at how she played him.

  But she was in danger, now more than ever, because of him. Not Hank. Emmet couldn’t lay this at Hank’s feet. Emmet pushed her away. Last night, he thought the energy between them felt different, even as they made love all night long. Turned out, he wasn’t wrong. For her, it was a goodbye screw while for him, he was holding onto the best thing in his life. What a piss-poor time to find that tidbit out that she’d meant it when she said, “Give me tonight.”

  That was not their last night. He refused to have them end it this way.

  “I’m coming for you, babe, and you’d better be alive when I find you or I will seriously be pissed off, more than I already am,” he murmured and took a deep breath as he tore through the room, packing only the essentials.

  “Emmet. I asked you a question. Where is Bailey?” Hank demanded. He stood in the middle of the suite with Julius by his side.

  Lost in his own world, Emmet hadn’t realized they were there. “Gone.”

  “Gone?” Hank shouted but couldn’t hide the fear in his voice, a fear taking root in the center of Emmet’s chest. She was out there, unprotected. “Gone where?”

  That, Emmet, had no answer for…yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Ticket, please.”

  Absorbed in the passing scenery from her seat on the train, Bailey dropped her phone onto her lap and fumbled handing over her ticket. “Sorry,” she murmured in German.

  “Danke!” The agent moved on.

  She reached for her newly bought phone and noticed it hadn’t disconnected from her messages. Bailey’s finger hovered over the number seven. One quick touch and Emmet’s two messages would be deleted.

  She saved the messages and ended the call. Why couldn't she do it? The man threatened her with bodily harm, and she couldn't even delete his damn messages because she cherished the sound of his voice.

  Bailey flung the phone onto the empty seat next to her. Buying the phone was stupid. She did it out of the instinct to connect with the world, call Daisy and bawl on her preverbal shoulder, but she couldn’t place anyone other than herself in harm’s way. Calling into her voicemail, listening to Daisy prattle on about her latest conquest, her latest shopping spree, her latest argument with her father, was as close to normal as she could get.

  She hadn’t expected to hear his voice. Fury made it huskier, which shouldn’t be a turn on, but damn it was.

  “I’m coming for you,” he said.

  A threat… And a promise.

  Focus on the threat. The promise is a lie meant to hurt you. Good thing he had no idea where she was heading because she had no idea.

  She bought fifteen plane tickets to random destinations all leaving at different times. Emmet and Hank had a lot of resources, but the two of them couldn’t be everywhere. And if they couldn’t find her, neither could Rogers.

  Men! Two running around to protect her. One hunting her down on a mission of revenge. And she’d evaded them all. So much for needing to be protected. She did it herself.

  “I’m not going to second-guess my decision,” she murmured. And it was a good decision. It was a good plan. A quick pit stop in ATL for her own stash of credit cards, cash, a fresh passport, and she’d be in the wind.

  “To where?” What happens after Atlanta?

  Good thing she had a full day of travel to find out.

>   ◆◆◆

  Bribery only got so far. This time it got Emmet far enough with the help of Julius’ influence. One call to a friend in the German government and all of Bailey’s aliases were on a no-fly list. She would be detained when she checked in.

  All Emmet had to do was collect her from security, which he was about to do right now.

  With Hank on his heels, Emmet pushed open the door to the airport security and rattled off the list of Bailey’s aliases.

  "She has not checked in for any of her flights yet. However, the next flight leaves in ninety minutes. Gate D12. The one after that leaves two hours later at Gate A9," the guard said in German.

  “I’ll take Gate D. You take Gate A,” Emmet said to Hank and headed out without waiting for an agreement. He was running this show.

  He walked through the airport with purpose, searching. Every short-haired brunette caught his eye, but it wasn’t her. None of them were her. Not even at the gate.

  He stood there, waiting in the shadow of a column, staring in the only direction she could travel. Frustration gnawed at his bones, a deep ache only getting his hands on her would quench. First, he'd wring her neck.

  And afterward, he just wanted to hold her.

  Minutes ticked by as he waited for Bailey to show up. The plane began boarding. Emmet kept his position. Hank called twice. She hadn’t shown at Gate A either. A nervous buzzing started in his ears, background noise to the chatter of too many anxious humans trying to get to their destinations. The buzzing reached a crescendo when the agent closed the gate behind the last boarding passenger.

  Calmly, Emmet strode through the airport and joined Hank at Gate A. Two hours they waited, silent sentinels watching the minutes tick away, analyzing the ebb and flow of the foot traffic, studying each slimly built female regardless of the hair, because that was changeable. When the gate closed behind the last passenger, they had to acknowledge the truth they'd kept at bay. She'd bested them.