Chapter Twenty-One #2
If I lose at the proceedings, I already have a plan.
She’ll be taken out of the country and hidden so thoroughly that nobody can find her.
I’ll do my best to escape from The Eyes, but there’s a chance I won’t manage to get away.
I’m fine with my death, so long as she gets to live.
All of my money will go to her; she’ll be set up for life.
It’s a pleasant surprise when I see her name flash across my screen on my third night away from home. I pick up as soon as I see it, closing the file I’m reading on Spencer.
“Little Bird,” I greet. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“Where are you?” she snaps.
I’m up from my desk immediately. “What’s wrong? What happened? Put Locke on the phone—”
“No, everything’s fine,” she cuts me off, sounding very grumpy. “But I’ve been locked in this fucking penthouse for three days and haven’t even gotten to see you. I’m going to lose my mind.”
I slowly sink back into my seat, something strange tugging at my chest. “Little bird, do you miss me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs, but it lacks some of her usual rancor. “I’m just… lonely. I can walk semi-normally now, so I don’t understand why I can’t go out during the day.”
“There are dangerous things going on,” I say. “Besides that, I’m not sure I trust you not to run again.”
“I won’t run again,” she says quickly. “But I’m losing my mind here. I don’t get to see anyone, it’s just me and my laptop all day, every day. I need human contact. Or… something.”
“You need a dose of my hand on your ass and my cock in that tight pussy as a remedy. I understand perfectly.”
“No!” she sounds flustered. I wish I could see her. “No, that’s not… that’s definitely not it at all.”
“I think the lady doth protest too much.”
“I’m not!” she shrieks. Then, quieter… “Seriously, Killian. I need more than what I have right now.”
“An obscene amount of money?” I supply dryly.
“It’s your money, not mine. And, in any case, money doesn’t mean happiness.”
I power off my computer, close the files, and head to the door of my office. “I’ll be home in twenty. Take a bath for me, Little Bird.”
“That’s not what I—”
I hang up on her before she can finish her protest and gather my things.
I’m hurtling orders at my secretary before the door to my office is fully opened.
“I need tomorrow morning’s 9am rescheduled to later in the day, or the following one.
Book me a table for two at that Jane Austen style restaurant.
Invite Griffin and his wife to my apartment for dinner next Wednesday, and notify the chef to get in touch with theirs regarding preferences and allergies. ”
I’m gazing down at my phone, but look up when my secretary doesn’t respond. He always replies with a prompt yes, sir. If he fell asleep on the job, he’ll be out of here before he can blink—
Fuck. No need to fire him, I suppose.
His throat is slit from ear to ear. Blood stains his crisp white shirt and blazer. His eyes are glassy and devoid of life; he’s seated in a perfectly natural position in his chair. Whoever got him took him by surprise.
I barely catch a flash of metal in the corner of my eye, but my reflexes are faster than my thoughts.
I lift my suitcase up, blocking the stab to my throat.
The knife that nearly slashed my throat, still gleaming with my secretary’s blood, embeds in the leather, and I grimace, glaring at my would-be assassin.
“You know how expensive Italian leather is?”
“I know money has no value to a dead man.” He pulls back the knife and attacks again; this time, I can’t block in time, but I jerk away, avoiding a fatal cut to my carotid.
The sharp blade draws along my collar bone instead, followed by a white-hot flash of pain.
I grunt, leveraging the weight of my suitcase and slamming it into the assassin’s temple.
He jerks back with a groan, sways a little, but doesn’t go down.
I’m at a massive disadvantage. He has a knife; I have only myself. Where the fuck is my security? There are men at the elevators, in the lobby, and Locke should be here. Fuck, did this man kill them all?
He flips the blade around in his hand. “You know, I was advised to bring a gun, but I prefer knives. More reliable. Never malfunction. And much better at painting a pretty picture.”
A loud bang sets off a horrible ringing in my ears, accompanied by the rapid sound of my heartbeat. The assassin blinks just once and raises a hand to his chest, where his black shirt is becoming saturated with blood.
Then, he falls forward with an unceremonious thud.
“Should’ve brought the fucking gun.” Locke is behind him, posture straight, pistol held in one hand. He flicks a dispassionate look at me, eyes honing in on my chest. “As bad as it looks?”
I glance down at myself. There’s a lot of blood, and the pain isn’t pleasant, but if he hit anything major, I’d already be dead.
“Don’t know.” I sway. “Where the hell were you?”
“Dealing with the bomb he set off in the garage. You didn’t feel the building shake a few minutes ago?”
I did feel a slight rumble, but assumed it was the wind. New York City skyscrapers are built to sway with the weather; it’s not uncommon to feel a little disruption.
“Not the impact of a bomb, no. How bad?”
“Two civilians dead, four injured. I sent four guys up here to protect you; passed their bodies on my way up.” Locke sheaths his gun. “Let’s get you out of here.”
My jaw clenches at the loss of life. I don’t feel bad that people died, but I do regret the disturbance it’s going to cause. And I’m fucking furious that somebody had the gall to send an assassin to me. “You shouldn’t have killed him,” I hiss. “He could’ve talked.”
“He wouldn’t know who his employer is,” Locke replies, shaking his head.
“That’s not how men like this work. There are layers after layers of obfuscation.
” He scratches the back of my head. “Our best bet is hiring the Nighthawks to get to the bottom of this. They recently acquired a world-class hacker—”
I fall to one knee with a sudden wave of dizziness. Looks like the adrenaline was softening the real impact of blood loss.
“Get the doctor to the penthouse,” I hiss. “Now. Get NYPD on the place, too. I want them crawling it. And keep Lyra away… from me.” I don’t want to frighten her.
Locke helps me to my feet, and half-drags me out of this nightmare.