20. Chapter 17 – Kellan
“ F or once in your life, Kellan. Can you be less of an ass?”
I folded my paper down in front of me, unsurprised to see Hillary’s feisty expression. She was earlier than I’d expected, but I knew she’d be showing up at some point after Jediah’s farce of a party the other night.
She couldn’t resist the opportunity for a fight, especially with me.
“How nice to see you,” I intoned passively, setting aside the newspaper and folding my arms across my chest. “Please , come in.”
How she had found me here, in the stark, pseudo-FBI office in the nondescript building ten blocks from her condo, wasn’t a question. She’d been keeping tabs on me for years, just as I had her.
She was too much of a firecracker, too ballsy, to walk right into a dangerous situation, and just competent enough to get herself out. She was the worst kind of person to care about from afar, but over the last six years I’d done my best, even if my best had let her little vigilante crusade go unnoticed before she’d done significant damage.
Cutting off cocks. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the smirk off my face as she glared daggers at me in a pink power suit. Of course, that would be her chosen punishment. The tiny blonde castrater was every man’s worst nightmare, and most men’s wet dream.
She haunted both of mine; the savage need to keep her safe and the selfish desire to keep her away from this life I’d built were always at war—asleep and awake.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Killer?”
We continued our stare down, not giving the other an inch. It was always like this with her; the push and pull of a rubber band close to snapping.
“Tell me why the fuck, two days after the Rodriguez’ announce their little ‘departure’, I’m being investigated for workplace harassment?”
I squinted at the piece of paper crumpled within her fist. Wordlessly, I held out a hand. She all but threw it into my face.
I smoothed out the official-looking court document on the surface of my desk and scanned through it. It was a fake—a solid forgery—but definitely fake.
“This isn’t ours, Hill. Somebody is fucking with you.”
She sputtered and for a split-second, she had nothing to say. That reprieve didn’t last long, though.
“This isn’t yours?”
She leveled those sky-blue eyes at me, not wanting to believe me, but clearly not wanting the opposite, either.
I matched her stare, leaning in to the depthless eyes where I loved to fall when she gave me total control. It had been too long, but not nearly long enough. I put on the brakes every time I started to crave her, knowing my sobriety did nothing to solve my addiction to her smell, her skin, her taste.
“No.” It was a simple answer. There was no investigation, not by this division, but someone did a decent enough job to make the doc look real.
A haughty blonde brow raised in annoyance.
“Then help me catch the fucker who’s wasting my time,” she snapped, but the demand had less bite than her original entrance.
She folded herself into the twenty-dollar office chair and kicked off her heels, stretching her body out with the grace of a panther. I knew just how lithe that body could be, on the mat and in my bed.
“Is this sort of ‘help’ the same as your version of Guantanamo?” I stood from my cheap seat in need of a stretch myself and ambled to the front of the desk. Leaning against it, I stared down my nose at her. Like it or not, she would get this message. “I’m not helping you with any more of that shit, Killer.”
“You secured me a small piece of real estate, Kellan,” she retorted, meeting my stare with a fiery one of her own. “How typical of a man to make himself more important than he is.”
I didn’t stifle the snort this time. “Cute.” I picked up the wrinkled paper and held it up to the light. “I’m going to keep this, but the FBI isn’t interested in you. You’re not that important.”
If the FBI knew exactly what she was up to in the late hours with Sammy and her crack team, they would very much b e interested, but I’d covered up any trace of what she hadn’t already done herself.
I would make sure they—we—never found her, even if she was cutting off cocks.
A condescending, unamused scoff escaped those pillowy lips, but she was undeterred, as always. I loved her fierceness. Even if it made me want to smother her with a pillow on a good day.
“What do you know about Alvarez, Kellan?”
She switched gears faster than I expected, but I should have known the question was coming. Maybe she forged the document herself as a reason to barge in on me—nothing was off the table when Hillary was on a mission. But I was serious about this one. If Antonio and Alvarez were about to go head-to-head, this town—this state—was about to get a hell of a lot more dangerous.
I leaned over the rickety chair, surrounding her with my bulk and the heat of my body. The floral notes on her skin were as familiar as the smell of her cunt when she was desperate for me, and both brought the same reaction to the head of my dick.
I lowered my mouth to her ear, brushing my lips against the shell. “Listen carefully, my pretty little killer. A bigger game is being played here. I don’t know all the players yet, but this town is on the verge of a turf war, and I’ll chain you to a fucking wall myself if it means you’re not getting in the middle of it.”
She pushed at my chest, barely budging me, but her tone was acidic enough to burn. “I know how to dance with demons, Kellan. If Alvarez is bringing unwilling girls into this town, I’ll kill him before he gets the chance to kill them.”
Before now, I’d assumed this crusade was just another cause this woman liked to chase—something to validate the pure chance of being born into extreme wealth and needing to com pensate for it. The vehemence in her tone was as familiar to me as if I’d said the words myself.
The truth was written in the clench of her jaw and the intense determination in her eyes. I’d been wrong. The castrations were personal. When something was personal, nothing would stop her from finishing what she’d started. Even if that goal was impossible, like keeping the flesh market out of the state. Antonio himself didn’t have that kind of power.
Sick men and women would always take advantage of other men and women. It was a sad truth of life. Hillary would never achieve her goal.
She likely knew that. My Killer was the smartest person in the room most times; she knew the statistics; she knew the risks. Acid bubbled to the base of my esophagus at what that meant.
Hillary had unresolved trauma with a sexual predator and was playing Batwoman to ease the burden. The acerbic taste burned a hole through my stomach; I’d need a full bottle of Tums later.
How had I not known this? And who would I have to kill to take it away from her?
Bitter resignation replaced the caustic burn and its gnawing teeth bit through the base of my ribcage and into my heart.
“What is it going to take to get you to stand down, Hill?” I lowered my guard for one brief second, giving her the smallest glimpse of my pain. “I can’t protect you from him.”
Whether I meant Alvarez or Antonio, it didn’t matter. Hillary hid behind bold confidence and billions of dollars, but these men were far more ruthless. They weren’t concerned about saving innocents—young girls or beautiful billionaires; if she was a problem, they would eliminate her.
Antonio would send me to eliminate her.
He was still pissed at her father for the trouble he’d caused the cartel years before, and didn’t need another reason to look her way. It was why I’d put distance between us every time I felt her pull a bit too much. I was a weapon for my father, and nothing else. And if he knew the truth about how I felt about her?
He’d use her as a weapon against me.
“Kell—I don’t need your protection.” Hillary worried her lip between her teeth. The rare uncertainty made my chest twinge. “I need your help .”
Raw irritation filled her features moments before her brows molded into a hesitant frown.
I blew out a breath. Hillary Lane never asked for help. She demanded it, she threatened for it, but she’d never asked me for anything before now; this time, we were partners instead of opposing forces.
Her blue eyes blazed, but they were rimmed with forlorn pain.
“I’ve had to clean up three more hitters in the last month. All well-known men, all girls supplied by Alvarez. One was as young as fifteen.”
Her voice faltered, barely noticeable, but it held the resignation of someone who blamed themselves.
“I can’t keep chasing him from behind, Kell. I can’t keep walking in at the very last second before these people are destroyed. Sometimes”—she drew in a sharp breath, as if the words themselves brought on too much pain—“sometimes, I’m too late.”
Before I could stop myself, I pulled her the few inches into my arms and wrapped my biceps tightly around her shoulders. She didn’t lean into me for a solid few seconds before giving up on being stubborn and settling into my comfort.
I’d held her like this before, but only ever after sex. Never as a simple offer of support. It wouldn’t be the first time I wished I could be this man for her. But I’d long since let go of that fantasy—choosing instead to take what I could get.
“You can’t keep doing this, Killer,” I murmured into the top of her head. “Period,” She started to pull away. “I’ll help you, but it’s going to have to be on my terms. Otherwise, we’re both dead.”
She slipped out of my grasp, and her mask of cool neutrality was firmly back in place. “I’ll consider it.” Even her voice didn’t shake.
I stood out of my crouched position and stepped back, giving her space to move out of the seat. She straightened her skirt and combed a few idle fingers through her hair, refusing to make eye contact. Then she flashed me a terse smile.
“We’ll talk soon.” Her tone made us sound like professional acquaintances instead of the complicated lovers we were. I hated that tone—but I had no one to blame but myself.
I nodded once and leaned back against the desk to watch her walk down the narrow hall to the stairs.
I didn’t know how the fuck this was going to work, but I’d have to think of something. Fast.
Otherwise, my Killer was going to be the one who got killed.
An insidious sense of unease burned a hole through my guts as I drove through the quiet streets of a small suburb to my makeshift ‘home’ whenever I was in Carlisle.
The bungalow wasn’t modern or flashy like the condo in California, or rustic like my cabin in the Nevada mountains, but it was the least likely place anyone would expect me to live, so it was the first place I bought years ago .
Not that I was there much. A few weeks a year here and there, when I needed to check in on my brothers or oversee Cartel business. It was rare I was in town for FBI operations, and the international theft ring Trish had called me in to investigate was turning out to be more sophisticated than anticipated.
My team had uncovered a group called ‘The Six’—a Board of Directors with a very complicated trail of bank accounts in Zurich and the Caymans who seemed to offer their services to the highest bidder.
My realm of criminal activity had nothing to do with high-value theft, but Jediah’s did, and I’d taken the opportunity to pick his brain at his pretentious party the other night. The brunette he’d introduced me to was their ‘connector’ – the middle woman who vetted the client and the mark—now I was waiting for the lead to come through while my team continued to chase money trails on the other side of the world.
I’d pretend to want to stiff someone, hire them to do it, and steer the FBI right to the source. Then I could pack up my things and walk away from this shitty town.
If only. I could have said that yesterday, maybe, before I’d held Hillary in my arms and she’d asked for my help. I wouldn’t leave her behind—not again.
I pulled into the average paved driveway with weeds growing up through the cracks. Turning off the car, I took a minute to sit in the dark before making the call.
“You’re late.”
Antonio answered in Spanish, his smooth tenor clipped in annoyance. At the tinkle of crystal through the line, I imagined him pouring a glass of his favorite exorbitant scotch. I hoped to poison it one day.
“Working on a case.” I grunted, a subtle reminder I had other responsibilities—to his benefit—keeping me from being at his beck and call.
“ And this case is more important than me?” His words were mocking, but his tone was flat.
“This case will throw the heat off our next set of problems,” I countered and sank into the fabric chair of the sedan, closing my eyes. “The Rodriguezes have aligned themselves with Alvarez. Aaron came to me with the message.”
The stillness on the other end was deceptively calm, but the sound of shattered glass came a second later.
“Aaron came to me,” I amended, massaging my temples in anticipation of the inevitable headache, “and wants to work out a deal. He wasn’t a part of the decision and will trade his life to work against them. He has some contingencies in place to make that happen.”
Another pause.
“A man’s loyalty to his family should never be questioned.” Antonio’s words were said with a finality I saw coming from a mile away. “If Aaron chooses to turn his back on his family, he will choose to turn his back on us.”
I didn’t care about Aaron Rodriguez one way or another—but he meant something to Hillary. She wouldn’t forgive me if I was the one to put the bullet in his brain, but I wouldn’t be able to protect her if I disobeyed a direct order.
I weighed my words carefully. “Perhaps his family has turned their back on him.”
“A man who does not hold his parents' honor is not a man.” Antonio’s response brooked no arguments. “Kill him to send a message and frame Alvarez for the crime. Two birds with one stone.”
The directive sealed Aaron’s fate; there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“As you wish.”
My father continued, the sentencing a man to death for someone else’s choices of no further concern. We all held the Carlos callousness close to our hearts, but Antonio’s was particularly pure.
“Assemble your brothers. We will start cleaning out the filth of Alvarez and his company.”
I hung up the call and scrubbed my palms across my face. Blocking out all emotion, I considered the task ahead of me. It was just another nail in my coffin—when I finally met my end, there was no place for me but the bowels of hell.
It was only a matter of time b efore I joined Aaron there.