HARD WIRED: He's an assassin, she's his target... (HARD Series Book 3)

by Chloe Fischer

  Cat and Sol snorted in unison and quickly covered their mouths to supress their sentiments.

  “No, Mr. Van Hoyt, we are not from any religious organization,” Sol replied, casting his companion a nervous look. “We are here from Interpol.”

  The inmate’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Now that is a new one,” he said, leaning forward with interest. “I think that might be the first time I’ve ever been graced by such an attractive duo from any government agency. And you certainly don’t sound like Interpol…I would say you are both very American. Although that is not saying much. With all the incest within universal government these days…”

  He trailed off and turned his attention to Catriona but addressed his comments to Solis.

  “In fact,” he continued, “I would wager that you, Mr. Smith, are from south of Pittsburgh, born and raised.”

  Solis nodded, stunned that the stranger would be able to detect his dialect within a few short sentences.

  “That is incredible, Mr. Van Hoyt,” Sol told him, impressed. “But we have heard about your remarkable abilities. That is why we’re here in fact. We would – “

  “But you,” Van Hoyt continued, his focus steadfastly on Catriona. “You will be harder to learn since you have so few words.”

  He closed his eyes, holding up a long finger, indicating he needed a minute.

  “Give me a moment. I will get it.”

  He inhaled sharply, and Solis could not pull his own hazel irises from the killer’s face as he seemed to be performing a magic trick.

  Suddenly, Catriona gasped and as Solis turned to look at her, Van Hoyt’s eyes snapped open.

  “Ah! You are a Texan. Mexican mother?”

  Catriona’s mouth parted in shock, an expression of terror in her brown eyes.

  “Am I right?” he demanded, and she nodded, looking from man to man, panic flooding her face.

  “That is amazing!” Solis declared, and he was genuinely taken aback by the man’s talents.

  “But I assume you didn’t come here to discuss party tricks,” Van Hoyt continued. “What could the American branch of Interpol possibly want from a man serving consecutive life sentences?”

  “A favor,” Catriona said suddenly, and Sol was surprised to hear her speak. When he gazed at her, he could see that she was as enraptured with Van Hoyt as he himself was.

  “A favor?” he laughed. “I would think that back in DC you have friends in higher places than me.”

  “We are looking for one of your friends,” Solis explained. “And we thought that you might know where we could find her.”

  “And who might that be?” he asked conversationally but Sol got the sense he was not entertaining their words.

  “Ashtyn Deveaux.”

  A sincerely amused grin exploded over Van Hoyt’s face and he laughed aloud.

  “Ashtyn Deveaux! Now there is a name I have not heard in many moons. Why would you think I know where to find her?”

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” Catriona said suddenly, jumping from the chair as if she had enough of the conversation but Solis had not even started.

  He ignored Catriona’s clear desire to leave and leaned further across the table, holding the inmate’s gaze urgently.

  “If anyone can find her, Van Hoyt, it is you,” he told the inmate. “You have crossed paths with her in your travels, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t recall,” Van Hoyt replied evasively, sitting back casually but everyone in the room knew it was a lie. He did not even try to hide his smirk.

  Ashtyn Deveaux was possibly the only other person in the world as difficult to track as Van Hoyt. It only made sense that they minimally knew of each other, even if their respective fields were slightly different.

  “Let’s go, Soli – Smith,” Catriona pleaded, and Sol was shocked she had almost blown his cover by using his real name.

  She’s really unnerved, Solis thought with mild surprise. It was unlike his ruthless partner to come unravelled. It’s okay. We’re almost done.

  “Do you recall a woman named Sarah?” Sol asked sweetly.

  As if a switch had been flipped, Van Hoyt’s face contorted into a mask of fury, all signs of the genial man dissolving in seconds.

  “You assholes do this every time,” he snarled, and Solis found himself tensing at the abrupt personality change. He had not expected such an about face reaction by the mention.

  A sore point. That’s good to know. It will come in handy later, Sol thought, shooting Catriona a look but she was fixated on Van Hoyt.

  Of course Sol should have known the woman’s name would be a trigger – after all, Sarah was the reason Van Hoyt sat behind bars for the remainder of his natural life.

  “You come sniffing around and looking for help, using Sarah as bait but if you had anything, you would have used it years ago,” the prisoner continued, his eyes flashing in fury.

  Solis nodded.

  “You’re right. No one has had anything in years. But you know how they say the internet is forever? Well, it looks like your sister uploaded some of her earlier debaucheries and they never really went away. It took some digging, but Interpol found them. Let’s just say that Sarah had her camera handy during the commission of a particular crime and posted said pictures to social media before coming to her senses and deleting them. They weren’t up very long but as I said, everything can be found.”

  A slow, tight smile formed on Van Hoyt’s face.

  “And how will you explain away my incarceration?” he asked. “There is nothing any branch of government likes less than looking like a fool and facing a multi-million dollar lawsuit for wrongful conviction.”

  Solis shrugged his shoulders.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time someone has been in prison wrongfully accused, Mr. Van Hoyt,” he replied nonchalantly but his heart was pounding. “There is insurance and reserve funds for such matters.”

  Is he buying into this? He cares about Sarah. That’s obvious.

  It was a ridiculous thought to have; obviously he did care about the girl or she would be serving the sentence and not him.

  And she’s not even blood related. Imagine what he would do for his brother.

  The men locked gazes and time seemed to freeze.

  “If I agree to help you find Ashtyn,” Van Hoyt said cordially as if he had not been furious a moment earlier. “I want more than security for Sarah. I want out too.”

  Catriona began to laugh but Sol held up his hand.

  “Those are terms we can discuss,” he said agreeably. “But it isn’t strictly finding Deveaux. We need you to…take care of her.”

  “I see. And if I do this for you, you’ll release me and forget about this unfortunate business with Sarah?”

  “That is only going to happen on one condition, Mr. Van Hoyt and I think you know what it is.”

  Again, the men stared at each other for a long moment.

  Slowly, Van Hoyt nodded, lowering his eyes toward his cuffed hands.

  “Then we have a deal, Mr. Van Hoyt?” Solis asked, rising.

  “I suppose we do since you are not giving much more of a choice,” he agreed. “Albeit I would think you should call me Xander at this point, don’t you?”

  “All right, Xander. We will arrange for your release and discuss the details in the coming week. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  “You leave my sister alone,” Van Hoyt called after them. “She’s suffered enough.”

  Solis paused to smile at him.

  “If you eliminate the threat, you and your sister will live the high life free and clear for the rest of your days in any country you wish. That is a promise.”

  “I’m going to need that in – “

  “Writing?” Sol interjected. “Of course.”

  Van Hoyt smirked.

  “I was thinking more like in blood but I suppose writing will suffice.”

  Catriona banged on the glass to capture the guard’s attention as if s
he was about to explode, sliding out the door as they opened.

  Sol nodded at Xander Van Hoyt.

  “We’ll be in touch,” he told the inmate and the younger man chuckled mirthlessly.

  “I suspect there’s not much I can do about that, is there?”

  She was almost running, and Sol finally caught up with her at the car.

  “Holy hell, you’re fast for a broad in heels,” he gasped, clutching his chest in exaggerated gasps.

  Catriona whirled to face him.

  “Did he agree to do what I think he did?” she asked, and he nodded enthusiastically.

  “Yes. He will find Ashtyn Deveaux and terminate her.”

  Catriona stared back at the building, her eyes shadowed with something he couldn’t understand.

  “Do you think the stories about him are all true?” she finally asked as Solis unlocked the car.

  “What stories? Those stupid ghost stories?”

  Catriona nodded.

  “Of course not,” he scoffed, jumping into the driver’s seat. “Did he look like a ghost to you?”

  Catriona did not answer as she slid into the passenger’s side but the haunted look on her face told Sol that she had experienced something much different than he had.

  It doesn’t matter, he told himself sternly. All that matters is getting rid of Ashtyn Deveaux before she ruins more business on that side of the ocean.

  Humming softly, he put the car in reverse, his mind on the fifty million dollars coming his way from Renault.

  And after Deveaux is gone, I will take care of Van Hoyt and live happily ever after.

  Solis eyed Catriona who continued to stare out the window numbly.

  He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with his long time and lover.

  I’ll probably have to kill her too.

  Chapter Two

  Long after the “Smiths” had left North Branch, Xander Van Hoyt sat in his cell in protective custody, staring at the ceiling.

  He was not in seclusion for his own well being. On the contrary. It seemed that inmates, ones who had issues with the unassuming Xander found themselves meeting unfortunate demises, all out of the ever-watchful eyes of the close circuit televisions.

  A white supremacist who tried to recruit the bald, mild-mannered killer had found himself without a tongue.

  A drug dealer who had accused Xander of stealing had inexplicably overdosed on a cocktail of his own stash.

  There had been other odd occurrences, men without history of mental illness abruptly having breakdowns or trying to kill themselves.

  All while in the company of the green-eyed gentleman.

  Although nothing could ever be proven, there was an undeniable consensus among the prisoners and the guards that Xander Van Hoyt was a menace. A dangerous, soulless menace.

  To save face with the state, the warden had finally interceded and put Xander in his own posh cell, equipped with all the creature comforts of the outside world.

  Xander would not have allowed for the switch without it.

  “If you are going to cut me off from companionship without any cause,” he reasoned, checking out his perfectly manicured nails. “You need to supply me with some other stimulation or who knows how my mind might wander.”

  It had been enough of a veiled threat to give Xander everything he wanted.

  Four years he had been in North Branch, charged with only two of the almost dozen murders he was suspected of committing.

  Those were only the ones they knew about.

  And I’m not even in prison for the right deaths, he often thought, shaking his head at the idiocy of the justice system.

  It didn’t matter; he never regretted the fall he had taken for his sister. No one needed to know what Sarah had done.

  And now they never would.

  His forty-six-inch television was playing but the sound was off as Xander contemplated his options.

  Interpol. I find that highly doubtful but that is a matter for another time. Why the sudden interest in Ashtyn Deveaux? She has been around as long as I have. Well, longer now. She outlasted me somehow. I bet she doesn’t have a renegade sister though.

  He knew of the elusive smuggler by reputation, and while he was certain he had caught a glimpse of her on occasion while running about his own business, Xander couldn’t say for certain.

  She’s finally stepped on the wrong toes and they want her dead. But who? The Russians or the Turks?

  He reasoned that the Afghanis might be after her head, but they were less apt to reach out to western sources for such help.

  Xander did not have enough background on Ashtyn to warrant a fair analysis of where she might be.

  In the smuggling business, she was considered a ‘sell sword’; she would work for the highest bidder, sometimes double crossing her own bosses in the middle of deals.

  But her operations were seamless, she had never been arrested and even Xander could not be certain if the stunning platinum blonde with piercing green eyes was the right woman.

  He would be lying if he said he had not fantasized about the stunning woman over the years. Even in that moment, he found himself growing hard as he envisioned her lithe, stacked body.

  I’ll have my work cut out for me after four years. I’ll have to find new contacts, rekindle old alliances.

  Xander sat up suddenly.

  But there was always one tried and true source, someone whom he could depend on.

  I don’t have to kill her, he reasoned. I can find her and give her to the Smiths, the lying Interpol couple who just happen to know all about Ashtyn Deveaux even though the darkest underground channels barely know her name.

  He would have to read the terms of his deal closely.

  Obviously, whomever they were, they had some connections to the agencies who could see him released but Xander was in no rush to leave.

  He lived a life of relative comfort in the prison after all and he was not running amok killing on contract.

  His main concern was Sarah and that she be left alone, but it seemed that he was no closer to achieving the peace of mind he had hoped for at the end of the double murder trial.

  If I am out, I can protect her better, he reasoned. I can ensure that everything which needs to be eliminated is, and that she is secured somewhere that no one will find her.

  The problem was, Xander was not sure how much of the “Smith’s” promises he believed.

  Catriona was far too afraid for me to get a proper reading, he thought. Xander had not even attempted to probe the other one, but he had caught the woman’s near slip when she almost called her partner by his first name.

  I’ll learn everything I need to learn before I agree to anything, he decided. If they want Ashtyn badly enough, they will abide by my terms.

  “Hey, Gary?” he called out to the guard at the end of the corridor. “You there?”

  “Yeah, boss?” Gary replied, bounding toward the convicted murderer.

  Of all the officers, Gary was Xander’s least favorite.

  He was far too simple-minded to hold a position of being a guard at this maximum-security prison. He was a bear of a man, eager to please, and while the others had a healthy fear of the but dangerous inmate, Gary wanted to make friends.

  “I need you to make a call for me.”

  Gary peered at him with guileless brown eyes.

  “Sure,” he agreed. “Who?”

  Xander stifled a sigh. Any of the other guards would have known whom he was speaking of, but of course Gary needed to have things spelled out for him.

  “Is Jonas working today?” Xander asked, trying to keep his infamous temper in check. It wasn’t Gary’s fault that he had the mental capacity of a potato, after all. It was the Department of Corrections’. They had hired the Neanderthal.

  Gary nodded like the big oaf he was and almost tripped over his own feet going to find his co-worker.

  “I’ll get him for you,” Gary said agreeably.

  “Just
tell him I need him to make a call for me,” he sighed, knowing that there was only a fifty-fifty chance Gary would succeed in delivering the message properly.

  To his surprise, half an hour later, Jonas showed up at his cell.

  “You have a visitor,” the Vietnamese officer informed him. “And she’s hotter than hell.”

  Xander simply nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Perfect,” he said, allowing the officer to lead him from the cage in handcuffs and chains.

  “Try not to kill her,” Jonas remarked dryly as they made their way into the compound and toward the portable units near the exercise yard.

  As always, when Xander showed his face outside the protective wing, a hush of awe seemed to fall over the courtyard.

  The skinheads scowled at him while the other gangs turned their eyes downward in a sign of respect. Xander ignored them all with the same dismissive grace.

  They were irrelevant to him, after all. Rumors had started about him, and Xander did nothing to deny them. There was no doubt that he could kill them without even touching them, but his reputation was terrifying enough that even if they were to chance upon one another, the other inmates would give him a wide berth.

  Everyone knows what I’m capable of. They just don’t understand how, he thought smugly.

  As they stopped at the first portable, Jonas undid his handcuffs and cast him a sly gaze.

  “I don’t know how you do this every couple of days,” he commented, opening the door to allow him in. “I can’t even jerk off once a week.”

  Xander stepped inside and smiled at the guard over his shoulder.

  He pointed at the sexy blonde inside.

  “Would you have a problem doing this?” he asked. “She’s a little bit more enticing that your right hand.”

  Jonas chuckled.

  “I wouldn’t have a problem, but my wife sure would,” he replied, shutting the con and the prostitute inside.

  “Hello Sheila,” Xander said pleasantly, pulling off his tank top to reveal his entire upper body.