Chapter 42
Black Knights Inc.
“He’s found me. He’s following me,” Black Widow declared staunchly, and Hew fisted his hands so tightly he could feel his blunt nails leaving crescent moon marks in the skin of his palms.
They were sitting at the scarred kitchen table inside the cottage in the far front corner of the property. It was a squat little house with creaky floorboards and lace curtains left over from another lifetime.
Back when BKI had been a menthol cigarette factory, the foreman and his family had bunked here.
Nowadays, the place only got dusted off for rare occasions.
Holiday shindigs, birthday bashes, or the odd wedding when the OG Knights and the current active members all gathered and extra space was needed to house everyone.
Or when we need a spot away from the shop to talk to someone who isn’t welcome within spittin’ distance of our main operation, Hew thought.
After Boss had followed the assassin into the compound, he’d pointed them all toward the cottage.
And even though Hew had damn near barked himself hoarse telling Sabrina she should stay inside the old factory building where it was safer, she’d firmed her stubborn chin, crossed her arms, and declared, “I’m as much a part of this as any of you.
Probably more so since she’s abducted me twice. So I’m coming with you.”
Ayuh. He’d wanted to point out that Black Widow had abducted her twice. And since no one wanted the assassin to have a chance at a third go ’round, all the more reason for Sabrina to keep herself behind locked doors.
But Hew hadn’t reached the ripe old age of thirty-six without learning a few immutable truths. And right at the top of that list?
Arguin’ with a woman once she gets that look in her eye is about as practical as breathin’ underwater.
So he’d swallowed back every no, every don’t, every for Christ’s sake stay put. And had settled for plunking her down across from Black Widow while he and Boss kept their pistols hidden beneath the table and trained on the assassin.
“I’m assumin’ by he, ya mean Bishop,” Hew said now, squinting at the woman, looking for even a hint of subterfuge.
He saw no deception, but her expression did seem to scream, Duh. Her words just reiterated the sentiment. “Who else would I mean?”
Boss kept his voice even when he asked, “How do you know he’s following you? Have you seen him? Has he contacted you?”
Black Widow tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Hew didn’t know why she’d dyed it that god-awful shade, but if her goal was to look even more lethal…well, then…mission accomplished.
The color reminded him of clotting blood. The kind that dried under your fingernails and ruined your clothes.
“Of course I haven’t seen him.” Her tone was the epitome of exasperation, and Hew was finding it difficult not to pull her up by her ear, march her to the front gate, and toss her out on her ass.
“Or maybe I have and just didn’t know it, since I have no clue what he looks like,” she continued. “As for contacting me? I told you before, the way Bishop will contact me is by sending someone to slit my throat in my sleep.”
“So how do you know he’s followin’ you?” Hew pressed.
The assassin’s lips flattened. They were painted the same shocking red as her hair. And since the lamplight in the cottage was dim, it cast her face in sharp planes and deep shadows.
The whole effect was like one of those campfire tales where the storyteller shines a flashlight up under their chin. Eerie. Ghoulish, even.
Fittin’ for an executioner.
“I know,” she insisted. “I can feel it. And you both understand what I mean by that.” She wagged a finger between Hew and Boss. “People like us know when we’re lined up in the center of somebody’s crosshairs.”
Hew balked at the idea of being lumped in with the likes of her. But he didn't say as much.
What would be the point? People like Black Widow did not distinguish between pulling the trigger for pay or patriotism.
And, ayuh, some might argue there was a fine line there. But the devil was in the details, and, for Hew, that little detail meant the difference between being able to look at himself in the mirror every morning and…not.
There’d only been one time when he’d ended a life outside the line of duty. It had been for justice. And if he lived to be one hundred years old, he wouldn’t spend a second regretting it.
“Maybe you’d better start from the top.” Boss leaned back in his chair, head cocked.
Black Widow laid it all out. How she’d spent the last half-dozen years scattering safe deposit boxes across the country, each one stocked with cash in case she ever needed to vanish. How she’d spent the last two weeks working her way through the states, emptying the boxes one by one.
“It was at the fifteenth up in Wisconsin I realized I was being watched,” she said. “I pulled every trick in the book to lose the tail, and when I was sure I’d shaken them, I came here.”
“Why?” Boss asked, one dark brow arched high. “Why come back to the place, why come back to the men, Bishop asked you to expose and kill?”
“Because I can’t go to anyone in my circle. I can’t trust anyone in my circle.” A muscle in her jaw jerked. “Someone gave Bishop my contact info to begin with. Who’s to say they’re not still working for him? Helping him?”
She took a deep breath and admitted through clenched teeth, “I need a way out of the country. And if anyone can secret me across the pond, it’s you guys.”
Hew snorted. The absolute audacity of this woman.
But it was Sabrina who voiced aloud his thoughts. “And you thought abducting me, again, was the way to gain our favor?”
Black Widow hitched one shoulder. “I knew you all wouldn’t listen to me unless I had leverage.”
Sabrina’s tone remained incredulous. “We already did you the ultimate favor by letting you go.” Her eyes didn’t shine like melted chocolate now. Oh, no. They flashed like fire on glass. “Why the hell would we give you additional aid?”
Hew looked at her then. Really looked. And saw no hints of the fear that had been in her face when he first blazed around the corner to find her arm-in-arm with the assassin.
Fuckin’-A. It had felt like it had taken forever to strap on his sidearm and fire up Freedom after her text came in. And by the time he’d actually reached her, he’d been nearly out of his skull with worry and dread.
But all of that had been forgotten the instant she climbed onto the back of his bike to slide her arms around his waist. Her touch after two weeks of absence lit up every nerve ending in his body like downed power lines.
For a few beats of his heart, he’d thought of no one else. Not Bishop. Not Black Widow. Just her.
Just Sabrina.
“Because if Bishop doesn’t want me dead”—Black Widow’s voice cut through his thoughts—“if he wants me alive to question, then you can bet your ass I’ll tell him everything I know.
About you. About this place. About your plans to hunt him down.
If it means saving my own skin, I will gladly throw you guys under the bus. ”
She let her eyes ping around the table before delivering her final volley. “So keeping me out of his psychotic clutches? Well, that behooves all of us, now doesn’t it?”
The irony of an assassin calling someone else a psycho nearly made Hew’s eyes roll into next week.
“Where do you want to go exactly?” Boss’s tone was still calm. Still emotionless.
Hew shot him a look. He wasn’t surprised Boss was considering helping the woman—she had a point about it being better for all of them if she was kept away from Bishop. But he was surprised Boss would even consider giving the woman a say in where they shipped her off to.
“Glad you asked.” Black Widow smiled, and it reminded Hew of a viper baring its fangs. “I’ve got the perfect spot.”
Hew only half-listened as Black Widow laid out her plans. His mind kept drifting to questions that refused to settle.
Why the hell didn’t Martin drop Sabrina at the gate?
Why does Sabrina keep lettin’ her arm rest against mine when she hasn’t touched me in two weeks?
Did that motorcycle ride remind her of how good things are when we aren’t tryin’ to keep each other at arm’s length?
“If we do this, I don’t ever want to see your face again.” Boss’s words interrupted Hew’s ruminations. “In fact, if you ever come within ten miles of BKI , then you’d best be prepared for us to get real inhospitable.”
“I’d say you have my word.” The assassin lifted her hands. “But something tells me my word won’t mean much to you.”
Boss snorted. “That’s the understatement of the century.” Then he smacked the table—his standard gesture when the meeting was over and it was time to make tracks. “Okay. I’ve got some calls to make. Hew? You mind staying here and keeping an eye on her while I do that?”
Hew wanted to say, I do mind.
The simple act of sitting across from Black Widow made his skin crawl. She tainted the air around her with her villainy.
But, of course, he dipped his chin and replied, “Ayuh.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Sabrina volunteered.
Hew was quick to correct her. “You’ll go with Boss.”
Her chin tilted stubbornly. “In case you missed it, I’m not a kid. You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I can insist very vociferously,” he countered as their gazes clashed and their wills warred.
She wasn’t a kid. She was a woman. All woman, emphasized by that damn dress that left little to the imagination and hugged her curves.
Never in his whole life had he been jealous of a piece of clothing.
He was jealous of that dress.
“Kinky,” Black Widow purred, glancing between them with a smile that could only be described as lascivious.
Sabrina’s gaze snapped to the assassin, her upper lip curling in disgust.
Hew could barely resist the urge to strangle Black Widow because she’d ruined a…
What?
What had just passed between him and Sabrina? If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was sexual tension. But that couldn’t be right. Could it?
She was with Martin. She’d put on that damned dress for Martin.
“Don’t forget we still have a second option,” Hew snarled at the assassin. “We could kill ya and all our problems would be solved.”
Black Widow’s greasy smile faded as her eyes narrowed into slits.
“Come with me, Sabrina.” Boss’s tone brooked no argument as he stood from the table.
Sabrina still tried to argue. “But—”
“Hew doesn’t need any distractions,” Boss interrupted. “And you’re definitely a distraction.”
Sabrina’s expression turned sullen as she glanced between Hew and the assassin. Then, her gaze softened, and Hew didn’t miss the worry in her eyes when she said, “Will you be okay?”
Ayuh. He’d definitely been imagining things earlier. What he’d mistaken for sexual tension was just her concern for him. Just her trying to be his friend and show her solidarity by remaining with him to guard Black Widow.
Fuck.
The little flame of hope that had flared to life in his chest guttered and died.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Go on, now.”
She hesitated a few seconds longer but eventually pushed up from the table and followed Boss out of the cottage and into the night.
He continued to stare after her even after the door closed. In his mind’s eye he could still see the swish of her hips, the sway of her long, dark hair.
“Damn, man, you got it bad, huh?” Black Widow drawled, her gaze glinting with crude speculation. “Bet it drives you crazy that she’s dating some guy who drives a Mercedes and wears Gucci cuff links.”
Obviously, she’d been spying on the place. Obviously, she’d seen Sabrina with Martin.
“Bet you want to feed that fucker his own teeth. Bet you dream about her wrapping that lithe little body around you, moaning your name and—”
Hew transferred his pistol to the top of the table, barrel angled straight at the assassin’s chest. He slowly, deliberately slid his finger from the trigger guard to the trigger itself.
She snapped her mouth shut.
And that suited him just fine.