I start pushing his clothes over and run my hands along the wall. I know it’s around here somewhere. I finally find the little door thing, though it’s not exactly familiar. I push it open to reveal a small security screen.
Hang on a second. I pause, then glance over toward my shoes. Now I remember the panic room is over there. So what the hell does this door open? I lean forward so the security screen can scan my face. Nothing happens. I try again, but it won’t take the reading.
Access Denied scrolls across the screen. I glare at it. “He’s hiding something.”
“Meow,” Harley says in agreement.
I bet there is some kinky sex room back there. One he’s never taken me into.
“He told me I was the only girl that’s ever been here.” I fold my arms over my chest. I’ve got twenty-four hours to break into the room.
My phone rings, scaring the heck out of me. My heart is pounding as I grab the phone off the bed and see it’s Nova calling.
“Hey,” I say.
“I saw Logan heading out. Want to hang? Spa day?” she suggests.
“I’m actually busy.”
“Busy? With what?”
“Just some stuff. Can I call you back?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Love you, bye,” I say, ending the call before she can ask me anything else.
Time is ticking.
Can you order a sledgehammer on Amazon? Same-day delivery? I ponder. Only one way to find out.
8
Logan
The target slumps in a back alley, my bullet effectively ending his sleazy life. I quickly dismantle my sniper rifle, stow it in my bag, then hop the fire escape to get back down to street level.
The hooker he’d been beating on is already screaming as I cut past a crowded bar then along a quiet street with residences. Another turn and I’m back on a wide thoroughfare, taxis and cars whizzing past and horns blaring so often it sounds like a concerted effort.
I slide into the SUV waiting on the curb. The cops haven’t even responded yet, probably still unaware that Carlo Aronzini, a vicious crime boss who’s plagued this city for years, lies dead in an alley.
“I could’ve handled this one.” Ben starts up the car and pulls out into traffic.
“I know.” I’ve been handing off plenty of jobs to him lately, but some of them I just have to do myself. Like this. Carlo was a goddamn scumbag who deserved a much slower and more painful death than the one I gave him. But at least he’s gone. He won’t hurt anyone else ever again. Not that it matters in the grand scheme. I’m fully aware another boss—maybe even a worse one—will spring up in his place, but I can only do so much.
I text the job completion details to the client and watch as my bank account grows fatter. Pocketing my phone, I stare out at the city as a patrol car finally passes us, its lights and sirens blaring.
“What’s eating you?” Ben pulls off onto a side street and stops the car.
“What?” I glance at him in the rearview. “Nothing.”
“Something.” He shakes his head. “Spill. Is it this thing with the Brotherhood? Clevenger seems like he respects you, and the other outfits won’t fuck with you. Hell, if a Red Dragoon saw you, he’d probably shit himself and run.”
“No.” I wave his question away.
“Ah. I see.” He nods to himself. “It’s your wife. What’s going on?”
I don’t say anything. I’m tight with Ben, but I don’t like talking about my wife to anyone. Only Nova, because I know I can trust her.
“Just drive.” I pull off my gloves.
He sits in silence for a while, then pulls from the curb. “I get it.” That’s all he says.
I don’t think he does. Not when your entire future and heart is wrapped up in a woman like Quinn. She’s so innocent and fragile—nothing like Ben and me. Not even like Nova. We’re all mercs, people who will do what’s necessary to win every damn time. But my Quinn is so kindhearted. That’s why I call her sugar—she’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever found.
I throw Ben a bone. “Work takes me away a lot. She’s not a fan.”
“Makes sense.” He shrugs. “She wants you home.” He turns into the parking for my building. “You could make that happen. But then, of course, you’d have to send more work my way. I don’t have anyone waiting for me back at my place, certainly not a wife. If distance is your problem, I can help you there.”
“It’s not just that sort of distance.” I sigh. “We aren’t the same breed. Quinn isn’t like me. Not in the sense of ...” How can I explain it? “In the sense of I’m a stone-cold killer, and she’s into kittens and romance novels. I want her to keep that innocence, and I’m worried I’ll crush it out of her if she finds out who I really am.”