Chapter 12 #4
As far as days went, it had been intense, but by the time Gage crawled into bed with her that night, Kinley was surprisingly relaxed.
She should be fretting, her mind in overdrive about witness protection, worrying about whether the FBI would believe her—and what Stryker would do when he found out he was under investigation.
But instead, she couldn’t think about anything other than how nice it felt to have Gage’s arm around her and to snuggle into him.
“Gage?” she asked when they were plastered together under his covers, and he’d turned off the light.
“Yeah?”
“If this is out of the ordinary, I don’t care.”
“Me either,” he responded, tightening his arm around her for a moment.
Then she closed her eyes and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep, content in the knowledge that she was safe in Gage’s arms and that, by some miracle, he saw something in her that he liked and wanted to protect.
It was a heady feeling, and Kinley knew if he ever decided he was wrong and broke up with her, she’d never be the same again.
“I found her,” Simon King told Stryker.
“Where?”
“Texas. She’s staying with that Gage guy, just as we suspected. But it’s not going to be easy to get to her.”
“Why not?” Stryker demanded.
“Because she doesn’t leave his apartment much at all. She’s holed up. And Gage isn’t your average Joe.”
“Shit. So how long?”
“I don’t know,” King said. “I’m not going to do anything that will risk my own freedom. Eventually, she’ll fuck up, and I’ll be there to grab her when she does. You have another problem, though.”
“What now?”
“She met with a Fed today.”
“Fuck!” Stryker exclaimed. “How do you know?”
“Well, he wasn’t wearing a sign, but if you think I don’t know a fucking FBI agent when I see one, you’re an idiot,” Simon said. “He came to the apartment and was up there for hours. If you’d hoped she’d keep her mouth shut, I’d say you’re shit out of luck.”
“I want this bitch to suffer,” Stryker growled.
Simon wasn’t a man who cared much about anyone.
He’d lived a hard life, had learned the only person he could count on was himself.
He was a loner who took high-paying jobs when his money ran low.
He normally would’ve turned this job down, as getting involved in anything related to politics was just asking to be double-crossed, but he couldn’t pass up the million-dollar payroll.
Now two million. And he was willing to be patient, to wait to strike until the moment was right.
And he didn’t care if she suffered either.
His job was to kill her. Period. In whatever manner the client requested.
“She will,” Simon told the man confidently on the other end of the phone line.
“I mean it. Don’t just shoot her in the head and be done with it. I want her to know why she’s getting the shit beat out of her, and why she’s dying a long, slow death.”
Simon chuckled. “You’re a little bloodthirsty, aren’t ya?”
“Screw you,” Stryker said. “My entire life is on the line here, and if that bitch thinks she can take me down, she’s mistaken. I’ve kissed a lot of ass to get where I am, and some little fucking nobody isn’t going to ruin it!”
“Fine. But you’re going to have to be patient. I need to watch and learn her boyfriend’s schedule. Figure out the best time to snatch her.”
“Let me know when it’s done,” Stryker said.
“I will.”
“And only call me again if you’ve got good news for me.”
“I’m gonna need another five thousand to tide me over.”
The ambassador was silent on the other end of the line for a moment. “You’re a motherfucker,” he finally seethed.
“Hey, I’m not sleeping in my car,” Simon told him.
“No fucking way. And I need to eat. And it’s not easy blending into the background down here.
I’m a big guy, and this Delta and his friend are gonna notice me sooner or later.
Now that the Feds are involved, I need to lie low.
And in order to do that, I need some fuckin’ cake.
Since I’m here because you want me to be, you’ll provide me with what I need to stay under their radar.
I could leave tomorrow and it’d be no skin off my back. ”
“Fine. Five thousand, but no more,” Stryker warned. “You need to get this shit done.”
“I will. In a few weeks, when she’s let down her guard a bit, and after I know there will be little to no chance I’ll get caught. Nice talking to you,” Simon said, then hung up without warning.
He hated Drake Stryker, but he loved money more than he disliked working for the guy.
He felt nothing for Kinley Taylor. She was just a mark. It wasn’t personal, it was business.
He’d watch her for a while longer, maybe figure out her weakness. Everyone had one. Then he’d get her out of that apartment and finish the job.
He was actually looking forward to having a little fun with her. It had been a while since he’d gotten to take his time with a mark. Most customers wanted him to kill their enemies quickly. Make it look like an accident or a random crime.
He smiled, making a mental note to go to the home improvement store and pick up some duct tape. Yeah, teaching Ms. Taylor she should’ve minded her own business was going to be fun…for him.