Chapter 11
I check the time and see that it’s time.
I go over my weapons and ammo, like I always do, even though I’ve already gone through this same routine three times during the night.
Exactly forty-five minutes from now, the drug dealer I’m supposed to kill will leave the house of one of his mistresses. He spends his nights at their places, which makes me wonder why the hell someone gets married just to jump from one bed to another.
I believe managing a relationship with one steady woman is already a nightmare, imagine juggling a dozen flings, all in the same city where your wife and kids live.
I go over the plan once more. This kill doesn’t need to send a message, it just needs to be discreet.
The Bolivian police, along with the FBI and DEA, who’ve been keeping an eye on South American activity, are on high alert.
Even though I highly doubt the death of a low-level dealer would interest them, I don’t want my name ending up on that damn “Most Wanted” FBI list.
My hand reaches for the doorknob when suddenly, the sound of an explosion from the upper floors makes me recoil.
For a moment, I freeze, my mind processing what just happened. But when I hear a second explosion, I know it wasn’t an accident. I’ve become a target.
As I rush down the stairs, gun in hand, I hear the screams of other guests yelling that the hotel is on fire.
The sound of multiple explosions grows closer. I know I need to get out, and I sprint toward the hotel lobby. I make it there in time, but instead of heading for the main entrance, I move toward the back. There’s a good chance someone’s out front waiting to kill me.
The lights go out, and in the windowless darkness, people trample over one another, desperate to escape.
I can already see the street—just a few more steps.
And then the floor vanishes beneath me.
One Month Later
Somewhere in Louisiana
I blink several times before I can fully open my eyes, and the moment I see Beau, I know something went terribly wrong on my last mission.
“You stubborn bastard. I knew you’d come back to us,” he says.
I try to open my mouth, but it feels like it’s been sealed shut with superglue.
Beau snaps his fingers, and a nurse appears along with a doctor. That’s when I realize I’m not in a regular hospital. I know this man.
Doctor[7].
The physician no one knows much about, but who’s worked for Beau for years.
“We’ll talk in a minute,” Beau says, responding to my silent question when I look at him. His flat tone fools most people into thinking he’s calm, when in reality, he could blow up and kill you at any second.
I know getting hurt pissed him off. Beau’s protective of the few friends he has.
I nod, and he leaves the room.
They run a series of tests on me, and Doctor doesn’t say a word about why I’m here. I know why he’s not explaining anything. He’s loyal to Beau and wouldn’t give me any information without being sure our mutual friend wants me to have it.
When they finally leave me alone, after injecting something for the headache, several hours have passed. As if on cue, Beau returns.
“I’m gonna live,” I say as he walks in, though I’m sure he’s already gotten the full rundown on my condition. “Now tell me what happened.”
“You walked into a trap. At least, that’s what I think.”
“You think?”
“Yes. For the past month, I’ve been trying to—”
“What? I’ve been out for a month?”
“Yes. In a coma.”
I try to sit up too fast, and my body doesn’t respond the way I want. It’s like my muscles forgot how to work, probably from lack of use.
“Jackie?” I ask, alarmed.
A month is way too long to leave her unprotected. I’ve never been away that long, and even though I have capable men watching her, I don’t trust anyone but myself to keep her safe.
“I’ve been taking care of her like she was mine. I dismissed all your men. Until we’re sure it wasn’t an inside job, we can’t trust anyone.”
“Who’s watching her?”
“Seymour. Roman’s right-hand man. She’s safe, Lucifer.”
“Thank you.”
“You know I’d never leave her on her own if you’d died,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.
I nod.
“I’d do the same for Amber[8].”
“Now that you know your Jackie’s safe, let’s figure out how to settle the score with whoever tried to send you to hell early. Tell me everything you remember.”
I pause for a few seconds before answering.
“The mission seemed simple. Kill a Bolivian drug dealer. He wasn’t a big target.”
Beau raises an eyebrow.
“You’re wondering why the hell I took the job, right?”
“Yeah. Your price tag isn’t exactly low.”
“Payment was made upfront, in full.”
“Anonymous client?”
“Anonymous, yeah, like most of them. I was hired through the dark web, like ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“We need to try and trace it.”
“Almost impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible. Keep going. What else do you remember?”
“I was in a small Bolivian town, about five kilometers from my target. I wasn’t going to stay more than one night. Booked the hotel last minute, too.”
“Not even the client would’ve known where to find you?”
“Beau, I’ve been in this game way too long to make rookie mistakes like that.”
“And yet, they found you.”
“You think it was the client?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Why?”
“They blew up the entire hotel, Lucifer. The whole damn building went up in flames. They wanted to make sure you were dead.”
“I remember the explosion, and I remember escaping… but how’d you find me?”
“You dragged yourself, God knows how, into the woods. I’ve got eyes everywhere, especially on close friends.”
“You’re saying you spy on me?”
“I’m saying you’re never alone—and you never will be, Lucifer.”
It’s strange hearing that. I’ve always considered myself completely alone—even with Jackie, I could never really get close.
“Like I was saying,” he continues, “you walked into a trap. Now we need to figure out why someone wanted you dead.”
“Does it matter? All that matters to me is that my hidden enemy just signed his own death warrant.”
“It matters to me. Could’ve been one person or several. We need to know who gave the order.”
“Whoever did it made a mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said they blew up the whole hotel—but the first blast came from the upper floors, or I wouldn’t have made it out.
I was supposed to be on the eighth floor, but I always change rooms during missions.
I book two, under different names. I check into one, then switch to the second in the middle of the night.
Whoever did this didn’t know that, or they would’ve succeeded.
Which means their plan had holes. They got cocky.
Didn’t double-check. Thought they were good, but they weren’t good enough. And now I’m coming for payback.”