by Tiffany Snow
“Bullshit,” Blane snorted. “You just hate seeing her cry.”
Kade didn’t reply, just shifted uncomfortably. It was quiet in the room, the weight of Blane’s gaze resting on him felt like the beam of a spotlight.
“When will you be home again?” Blane asked.
Kade shook his head. “I don’t know.” Which was the truth. The airline ticket was one-way. For all he knew, he could end up rotting in a god-awful Venezuelan prison for the next fifty years. All he had to go on was the agreement he’d made with Keaston. Kade had taken the fall when Blane remembered some of that night, and he’d keep taking the fall so long as it kept Blane out of Keaston’s claws.
“Kade.”
Forced to look at Blane, blue eyes met green.
“Thank you,” Blane said. “For being here. For staying. For not giving up on me. I couldn’t have made it without you.”
Kade’s lips twisted in a half-smile. “What else are brothers for?”
The moment grew heavy, so he got to his feet before he did something stupid, like spill his guts to Blane. He’d made a deal and it was time to pay the piper, no matter how much it terrified him.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said as Blane also got to his feet. They shook hands, as Kade preferred.
“You’d better be.” Blane’s voice was rougher than usual and he clasped Kade’s hand longer than was necessary.
Kade cleared his throat. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” he said. “Like marry Kandi, or some dumbass shit like that.”
Blane let out a low chuckle. “Couldn’t do that without you anyway,” he said. “Who else would be my best man?”
Kade rolled his eyes and headed for the door. “That’ll be the only time you see me walking down the aisle, that’s for damn sure,” he tossed over his shoulder.
He cast one last look at Blane, standing by the fire in his slacks and shirt. His tie had been discarded but he still looked every inch the lawyer. Kade found new resolve in that last look at his brother. Blane deserved a good life, the very best it had to offer him, and if Kade could ensure some of that, then he would.
That image of Blane was burned into Kade’s memory, and that’s what kept him anchored in the years to come. The senator had taken Kade and honed him into a deadly killing machine, having him train with men who hadn’t said what they did for a living, and Kade hadn’t dared to ask.
Kade had first killed at the age of ten. He found that it just got easier as time went by. He should’ve known that whatever was inside him, whatever it was that allowed him to feel nothing but ice when holding someone’s life in his hands, wasn’t ever going to change, never going to get better.
The jobs were delivered to Kade in different ways. Sometimes via messenger, other times through dead drops. Payment was sent upon completion of the job, i.e., when the target was dead.
Keaston hadn’t sent Kade many hits over the years, just enough to remind him of the deal they’d made. Eventually, Kade had begun taking on independent jobs, some of them hacking, even as his reputation as an assassin grew.
He’d stayed in touch with his buddy Donovan, who’d been promoted through the ranks in the FBI. Donovan had asked for Kade’s help once or twice, then began bringing more and more jobs to him that the Agency either didn’t have the will or resources to pursue.
It had been years before Kade had been able to tell Keaston to go to hell—hacking into the Social Security Administration and deleting every record that ever existed on the two men who’d died that night—but by then, it was too late. There was no turning back from what he’d become, no redemption from the demons that plagued his soul.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Someone slid onto the stool next to Kade, pulling him from his memories. He glanced around. It was a guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties. A tough-guy, with a brutish face and clothes that could’ve used a trip through a washing machine. He was looking at Kade.
“Ain’t seen you in here before,” he said, and it sounded like an accusation.
Kade didn’t reply. He took another drink of his beer, which was warm now. Ugh. He hated warm beer.
“Hey man,” the guy persisted. “I said, I ain’t seen you in here before.”
Kade still ignored him, until the guy laid his meaty hand on Kade’s shoulder. In a flash, Kade had a grip on his hand, the pinky bent back at an unnatural angle. The guy grunted in pain.
“Don’t touch me,” Kade said. “And ‘I ain’t seen you in here’ isn’t a question, so it doesn’t require a response. Touching me gets a response, but not a pleasant one. Understand?”
The guy’s face was a white grimace and he nodded. Kade released his hand.
“I hear you’re looking for somebody,” the guy said, his tone much more cautious, though his eyes were resentful. “Is that true?”
“Possibly,” Kade replied.
“Mike said he mighta seen your guy. Said you was to meet him behind the Rusty Nail.”
It was what Kade had been waiting for. Anyone shows up on this turf, eventually the man running it is going to find out. Add to it Kade’s persistent questioning today, and it was damn near impossible to miss. If anyone, “Mike” would be the one to know if Bowers had been here and what had happened to him. But trolling the streets asking to meet with the boss usually ended up with somebody in a body bag.
“Then I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.” Kade stood, leaving the guy behind as he headed for the door. He saw two other guys get up and follow him out.
He knew what was happening. They were setting him up to “meet” with their boss, who of course wouldn’t actually be there. People asking questions were viewed with hostility in this environment, and they knew he wasn’t a cop. And unknown quantity on their turf was asking to get his ass handed to him, or to be killed outright, neither of which sounded appealing.
Kade walked down the block to the Rusty Nail, knowing the guys were still behind him. Chances were there were a few more waiting to ambush him when he emerged into the alley.
Stepping around the corner, Kade paused and waited. As he’d expected, the guys were close behind him, turning the corner only moments later.
Coming out of nowhere in the dark, Kade slammed his fist into the first guy’s solar plexus, punching the air out of him. The trick was to punch first and punch hard. He bent over, as Kade had known he would, just as Kade’s knee came up to slam into the guy’s nose. Down he went, out cold.
The second guy had time to prepare, the element of surprise gone now, and punched Kade in the side. Slamming back his elbow, Kade got him in the shoulder then went for the knee, nailing it with his heavy boot. It bent the wrong way and the guy went down, clutching his leg and groaning in pain. His position left his crotch exposed and Kade nailed him there, too.
Breathing hard, Kade stared at the two men on the ground. The whole thing had taken eight seconds, maybe less. Now to deal with the ones waiting for him.
There were three waiting when Kade stepped into the deserted lot behind the Rusty Nail. The place had been shut down a few years ago, but the sign out front remained.
“Hey, fellas,” Kade called. “Nice night.”
One of the men, the leader, stepped forward. His eyes shifted behind Kade.
“They’re not coming,” Kade said. “Had a bit of trouble along the way. They’ll be all right. Wait, I take that back, one of them probably will have a limp the rest of his life.” He smiled in a thin, cold way.
The leader stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Who are you?” he asked.
Kade’s smile faded. “I’m someone you don’t want to fuck with,” he said. “And I’ve had a shitty day. So be good and go tell Mike that Kade Dennon is here to see him.”
The leader beckoned one of the others over and spoke to him in a low voice. They both looked at Kade and the lackey nodded, then hustled away.
“We’ll see if Mike wants to talk to you,” the leader said. He watched Kade, his gaze wary and suspicious.
A few minutes later, the lackey returned. He was hurrying and he spoke in hushed, urgent tones to the leader, who turned to Kade with newfound respect in his eyes.
“Mike said he was available,” he told Kade. “Follow me.”
They went inside the Rusty Nail, though it was closed for business, it was apparently open for Mike and his base of operations. Kade passed two dealers, collecting their stock for the night ahead. At the end of a dark corridor, the guy who’d led him inside turned to Kade.
“Mike says you have to be unarmed if you want to meet with him.”
A huge guy, obviously meant to be a bodyguard, waited for Kade to hand him his weapons. He glowered at Kade, who just shrugged and handed over his gun.
“Do I have to wash my hands first, too?” Kade’s smartass question didn’t get a response from either man, not that he’d expected it.
The bodyguard opened the door and Kade went inside.
The room wasn’t much, and neither was Mike, but that’s usually the way these things worked, Kade knew. The guys you had to watch out for the most weren’t always six foot four and weighed two-fifty. It was the guys who’d been bullied and roughed up for being the smallest in the class. Those guys had learned early how to fight tooth-and-nail, how to survive through any means necessary. And Kade should know. He’d been one of them. They grew up to be more dangerous than any of the bullies.
There were two other guards in the room who looked like they had a bit more brains than the one outside. They were twins and Kade immediately thought of Thing One and Thing Two from the Dr. Seuss book. They eyed him, which was smart. Because while Kade had given up his weapon, that didn’t make him any less dangerous.
“Word is you been asking around my streets today,” Mike said. “We don’t like people that ask questions.”
“And I don’t like people who waste my time,” Kade said. He moved slowly—didn’t want Things One or Two to get jumpy—and pulled out Bowers’ photograph. He slid it across the table to where Mike was sitting. “You know this guy?”
“I don’t give a shit if I know him or not,” Mike sneered. “I run my streets, and I don’t care who you are, but you ain’t gonna rile up my people askin’ ‘em a bunch of questions all fucking day about a guy I don’t give a fuck about.”
Kade’s eyes narrowed. “Now you’re just pissing me off, Mike.” He said his name hard and slow, enunciating each consonant. “I been real polite, except for those guys you sent to ambush me, and besides wasting my time, you’re being a dick.”
“Fuck you, asshole.” Mike made a motion with his hand to Thing One and Kade reacted instantly, diving down as the sound of the gunshot echoed in the small room. It missed him by an inch, but he didn’t stop moving, going straight for Thing Two. He’d been too slow, assuming his brother would take Kade out, and was only now pulling a gun from his jeans. Kade grabbed his wrist while the muzzle was still stuck in his waistband and pulled the trigger. The guard shot himself. He yelled in pain and grabbed his thigh, dropping the gun as his leg collapsed underneath him.
The sheetrock above Kade’s head shattered as Thing One fired again, but the wounded twin’s body fell over Kade, effectively acting as a shield. Kade bet he wouldn’t fire on his own brother, and he was right. The guy quit shooting and ran toward him. Kade waited until he was close, then heaved his brother off him. Instinctively reacting to catch his twin, Thing One wasn’t watching Kade. He lashed out with his boot, catching the guard in the side of the knee. The crack was loud and he went down in a tangle of limbs with his brother.
Grabbing the gun the first twin had dropped, Kade shot the still-armed brother, one round right between the eyes. He didn’t pause before another round finished his brother. No sense leaving one of them alive to come after Kade for revenge.
The door slammed open and the thug who’d taken his gun barreled in. He didn’t make it two steps.
Suddenly, it was quiet. The sounds of the bullets echoing had faded. Kade was on his feet, the weapon aimed at Mike, who was also standing. He had the blank look of someone in shock.
“Things get messy when I get pissed off, Mike,” Kade said. “Now you wanna answer my question? Take a look at that photo. Take a real good look.”
Mike swallowed, his gaze dropping to the gun in Kade’s hand, then down to the photo on the desk.
“Yeah, man,” he said at last. “He was here a few days ago. Looking to buy papers. My boy didn’t trust him, so he got nowhere. Last anyone saw of him, he was gettin’ in the back of a cab.”
Kade squeezed the trigger. The bullet landed an inch from Mike’s hand, resting on the table. He jerked it backward.
“You’re sure that’s all you remember?” Kade asked.
“Fuck, man, yeah! That’s it!” He stared at Kade, anger and fear warring in his eyes.
Kade’s lips twisted in a smirk. “See ya around, Mike.” He retrieved his own weapon from the dead bodyguard and walked away. No one accosted him as he left and twenty minutes later, he was back where he’d parked his Mercedes.
The car was untouched and Kade glanced around for the kid, who appeared within seconds of Kade’s arrival.
“Good job,” Kade said, holding up the other half of the hundred between two fingers. The kid snatched it.
“Anytime, bro,” he said, his eyes on the money.
Kade slipped inside the car, started the engine, and peeled away from the curb.
A reaction time even a half-second slower, and he would’ve been dead. Normally, that wouldn’t be something he’d dwell on, but tonight was different. If something happened to him, who’d be around to keep Kathleen alive and safe?
The anxiety that thought produced was new to Kade and he tried to shake it off as he headed toward his apartment. If he began worrying for his own life, it would cease making him effective. Part of what made him good at what he did was that he didn’t care if he lived or died, other than the slight concern that he’d prefer a quick death over a long and drawn out one.
Pulling out his phone, Kade opened the GPS app, expecting to see Kathleen still at home. But she wasn’t. She was at the Crowne Plaza Hotel.
What the—
And he remembered.
Cursing, he dialed Blane’s number and didn’t even greet him when he answered.
“I told you to pay off Simone,” Kade bit out.
“I did,” Blane said. “It looks like she didn’t bother passing that information on to Kathleen. I just went by there and her neighbor said she went to the hotel.”
Kade bit back the part of him that wanted to ask why Blane had been stopping by to see Kathleen. It wasn’t any of his business anyway. “Tell me you’re on your way there now,” he said instead.
“Two blocks away.”
Closer than Kade was. A tinge of disappointment whispered through him and he told himself it was because he wouldn’t have the chance to beat up the asshole trying to use Kathleen as a prostitute tonight rather than the fact that Kade wouldn’t be the man riding to her rescue.
“Call me once you have her,” he said.
Blane confirmed and ended the call.
Kade headed toward his apartment. He felt dirty from being on the streets and in dives all day, not to mention he had blood on him. He’d shower at home, then head over to Kathleen’s.
Abruptly, he realized he missed her. An odd feeling, and one he wasn’t sure what to do with. It had been hours since he’d spoken to her, and now he identified the itch under his skin as being a subtle anxiety for her safety.
But Blane was going to get her, bring her home.
There was a sinking feeling in his gut as Kade thought about Blane and Kathlee
n. Blane wanted her back and Kade didn’t know why. He didn’t know if it was just because Kathleen had basically told him to fuck off and Blane wasn’t used to getting dumped. Maybe it was because of her intense vulnerability, or perhaps she was an attraction he hadn’t yet grown tired of.
As for Kathleen, she didn’t seem to be one of those women who took betrayal so lightly as to forgive and forget. She’d seen Blane with another woman. Surely she had enough self-respect to not go back to him after that.
It shamed him, how much he hoped she told Blane to take a long walk off a short cliff. He should be pulling for his brother, not the woman he’d wronged. And it wasn’t like Kade was going all righteous. He knew exactly why he hoped they didn’t get back together.
Kade wanted her.
He wanted her so much, it was an obsession. He liked her. He liked the way she joked with him, the way she laughed at the things he said, how she wasn’t afraid of him when she damn well ought to be, and he liked how she made him feel. Around her, he wasn’t Kade Dennon, cold-blooded assassin. He was just Kade. A man who wasn’t any better or worse than any other man. The anger and dark emptiness inside weren’t so all-encompassing when she was there.
The anticipation of seeing her made him hurry and he felt uncomfortably like a teenager looking forward to seeing his favorite girl at the football game. Which lasted right up until he stepped into his office and saw the file he’d had on Kathleen scattered all over his floor.
Shit.
The little sneak, snooping through his things, and then obviously having a fucking temper tantrum when she found something she didn’t like.
Typical woman.
He picked it all up, carefully rearranging the pages, and set the folder back on his desk. He took a quick shower and changed into clean clothes. His cell rang as he was pulling a shirt over his head. It was Blane.
“You have her?” Kade asked.
“Sort of. Not really.”
Kade frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
