Chapter Nine
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“H e’s ready. This way .”
Angel had been waiting almost forty minutes. He got up and followed Jon out of the reception room and down the marble-tiled hallway. He wasn’t sure whether Jon was even the guy’s real name, but he was the boss’s second-in-command, and Angel knew not to ask questions.
“Stand there.” Jon indicated a spot near the wide bank of windows overlooking the vineyard. Until he’d moved here, he’d never realized so much wine was made in Oregon.
He stood where he was told and held his arms out to the side while Jon swept him with a metal-detecting wand and patted him down. He pulled Angel’s wallet out of his back pocket to check it. A picture fell out.
Angel instinctively bent to snatch it from the floor, but Jon was faster.
Jon held the photo up to examine it. Angel barely curbed the urge to grab it from him.
Jon looked from the image to Angel and back, then handed it over with the wallet. “How’s she doing?”
“Fine.” He slid the photo back into the wallet, pushing down the rush of anger. His wife was off-limits. Period. He didn’t want any part of this shit touching her. If necessary, he would die to make sure it didn’t.
“That’s good. All right, you can go in.” Jon walked to the door, rapped on it twice.
A few seconds later the locking mechanism whirred, and the lock clicked open. Jon twisted the knob, opened the door, and stepped aside to admit him.
Inside, the boss stood at the floor-to-ceiling window with his back to Angel, backlit by the setting sun flooding the rows of grapevines stretching as far as the eye could see down the hillside leading away from the main house. Jordan had probably made him wait due to some power trip.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” The sir was mere politeness, nothing more. Angel might despise Jordan and everything he stood for, but he wasn’t stupid enough to disrespect him. Much as he disliked it, Angel needed him. His boss was a necessary means to an end, nothing more.
And if Angel wanted to get out of this thing alive at the end, then he needed to be very, very careful.
Jordan turned to face him, the daylight streaming around him like a halo. “The falcons are watching several suspects who might be responsible for the leak. Unfortunately, there’s no concrete evidence on any of them. Yet.”
Angel said nothing.
Jordan angled his head slightly, watching him. “Aren’t you curious as to who’s on the list?”
That tone, the flat, measuring stare warned him that he could be a potential suspect. So Angel weighed his response carefully. “No, sir. It doesn’t matter to me who the target is.”
A slight smile curled the edge of Jordan’s mouth. “I’m glad you see it that way.”
He wasn’t all that worried about winding up a suspect. He’d been aware from the start that they remotely monitored his personal phone. He made sure there was nothing on it that could be incriminating. Just as he made sure that there was nothing suspicious to see when they watched or followed him. He’d never stepped out of line. Never done anything that might draw scrutiny, at least where they could see it.
“You don’t talk much, do you, Angel?”
“No, sir.” Talking was a great way to wind up dead in this toxic web he’d entangled himself in. Hard to believe that a little over a year ago he’d had a legitimate job. But it hadn’t paid a tenth of what this did, and his skill set enabled him to be silent and lethal. A useful tool for the organization.
Jordan walked over to round the edge of the large, antique mahogany desk and sat in the plush chair behind it, leaning back to regard him thoughtfully. “I like you, Angel. I like the way you work, and I like the way you conduct yourself. Since you started with me, I haven’t had a single report on you containing anything that is the least bit worrying. I hope that continues.”
Angel didn’t answer, repressing the chill starting to creep up from the base of his spine at the thinly veiled threat. Because no answer was required, and the meaning was clear. They were watching him. Always. They would keep watching him, and his continued good conduct wasn’t necessarily a guarantee of remaining in the boss’s good graces.
All it would take was a single whisper of doubt from one person. A rumor or suggestion from a falcon, or anyone else in the organization for that matter. Any single hint of suspicion against him, and Angel would wind up on the target list himself. Because there were others like him. Contract killers he wasn’t even aware of. If his name wound up on that list, they would come for him within hours.
The ticking clock in the back of his mind sped up a little faster. Time was running out more quickly than he had anticipated.
Realizing he wasn’t going to get whatever reaction from him he’d hoped for, Jordan’s expression turned bored. “You’ll be informed when the target is verified.” He flicked his wrist dismissively. “You can go.”
Angel did an about-face and left without a word. Jon followed him every step of the way outside to the front entrance where he’d left his car. The armed guard at the gate stared at him for a long moment before letting him out.
Letting out a deep breath of relief, he drove home deep in thought. The little one-bedroom bungalow at the end of the cul-de-sac looked so cheerful with its tidy yard and the rows of red flowers lining either side of the front walkway that matched the red shutters framing the windows.
No one would ever guess that a cartel hitman lived in a place like this.
As far as he could tell, no one had followed him home, and no one was parked along the street. As a precaution he checked for bugs or cameras every few days when he was home, but he was realistic enough to understand that he might not catch everything. He unlocked the back door and stepped into the darkened kitchen.
His heart sank. The only time Liana didn’t cook was when she was having a bad day.
“I’m home,” he called out, spotting the line of light coming from under the closed door at the end of the hallway.
Pausing in front of it, he put on a smile before opening it. Liana was in bed with the covers pulled up to her chin, the cat curled up beside her. She gave him a tired, apologetic smile. “Hi. Sorry there’s no dinner. Again.” Her voice was weak. Exhausted.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress to smooth her hair back from her forehead. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. “Not a good day, huh.”
“Tomorrow will be better.”
She always said that. Her bravery and stubbornly positive attitude broke his heart.
Neither of them had known what the strange symptoms had meant when they had begun their honeymoon two years ago, and neither of them could have guessed how dire the final diagnosis would be. Recently, she’d had more bad days than good, yet through everything she’d endured, through all the ups and downs and tests and hospitalizations, she remained the kindest, sweetest soul he’d ever met.
He didn’t deserve her, but he was doing everything he could to keep her safe and make enough money to pay for her treatments.
“Get any sleep today?” he asked.
“A little. Never seems like enough these days. I sleep almost as much as Stevie.” She nodded at their cat, Stevie Licks, who watched him with one half-closed eye.
The exhaustion worried Angel. As time went on, it seemed like the grains of sand passed faster and faster through the hourglass, and he was helpless to slow them down. But he had to find a way. He would do anything to buy her more time.
Including sell his soul to the devil. Which he’d already done.
“How was your day?” she murmured.
“Not bad.” He noticed her laptop sitting on the bedside table. “Find anything interesting today?”
Her face brightened a little. “Yes. The second trial just finished. The initial results look really promising.” She started to sit up. He slid an arm around her and pulled her upright, stuffing the pillows behind her back and settling her against the headboard before handing her the laptop. “Thanks.” The adoring smile she gave him made his heart squeeze. “Here, look.”
She turned it so he could see the screen and read the report released by the medical researchers in Zurich. He didn’t understand some of it. She was the scientist, not him, but he got the gist. The latest clinical trial results looked promising. “Seems like good news.”
“Yes, and they’re going to open up the next trial soon.” She brought up another page to show him. “Only twenty-five spots available, though.”
When she looked up at him, the hope and anxiety in her big brown eyes hit him hard. She was desperate for a chance to improve her quality of life and outlive the time frame her doctors had given her. Praying for a miracle.
They both were.
He would do whatever it took to make that happen. “And you’ll be one of them.”
Her smile wobbled. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
“But the money—”
“I’ll get the money. We’re almost there, not much longer now.” The cost of the treatment alone was astronomical, and because it was still experimental, none of it was covered by her insurance. They needed the money for the medication, hospitalization, and treatment, plus travel and living expenses in Europe.
He’d invested every penny he could in the market and done well with the returns. But she didn’t know what he’d done beyond that. She thought he’d taken a big promotion with his former government security contractor firm that sent him around the country on various jobs. He didn’t intend for her to ever know the truth. It would only hurt and distress her, and stress was the last thing she could handle in her condition. The blood on his hands was something he would answer for on the day he met his maker.
At least it wasn’t innocent blood. That made it easier.
“You hungry?” he asked, pushing those thoughts away.
“A little. Mostly, I’m just sick of being in this bed.”
“Then come with me, gorgeous.” He scooped her up, smiled at her delighted giggle as she looped her arms around his neck.
Stevie followed them into the living room. Angel settled Liana on the couch with pillows and a thick blanket where she could see him in the kitchen, and then set about making them homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese. He chatted to her as he cooked, talking about plans for their life after her treatment.
He brought in a tray for her and set it on her lap, ushering the cat aside to make room for himself beside her. They ate together in comfortable silence, but he watched her closely and saw the moment her energy reserves ran out.
Her hand shook, and she dropped the bit of sandwich she was holding onto her plate. Her face was drawn, her posture sagging.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t.”
“Don’t apologize. Here.” He moved closer, cradled the back of her neck in one hand and lifted the sandwich to her mouth with the other.
Her eyes glinted with humor as she took a bite. “This is so romantic,” she said around the mouthful of sandwich.
“You know it, baby.”
She swallowed, licked her lips. “When I’m better I’m going to spoil you rotten.”
“You already do.” She showered him with love, even on her shittiest days. Until her, he’d never known that kind of selfless love existed.
Her situation made him want to howl in rage and agony. He would die for her, trade places with her in a heartbeat to spare her this terrible, unrelenting decline, but he was powerless to stop it or protect her from what was happening inside her own body.
When she had finished half the sandwich and most of the soup, she put a hand on his wrist to push the spoon away. “I’m so full,” she said, exhaustion evident in every line on her face.
He set the tray aside, hiding his concern. Her strength faded so fast lately. “Want to stretch out here and watch a movie?”
“No. I need to sleep.”
She curled into him like a child as he carried her back to their bedroom. His phone buzzed in his back pocket as he tucked her in.
He straightened, pulled it out and found a message from the organization.
Individual confirmed to be nosing around in the area. People might have talked.
A second later, two names appeared, and then two photos.
The photos were the signal that they had been confirmed as targets.
“What is it?” Liana asked tiredly.
“Work.” He leaned over, dropped a kiss on her lips. “I need to head out for a bit. Want me to call someone to come over until I get back?” One of their neighbors was a big help when he couldn’t be here.
“No. I’m just gonna sleep,” she mumbled.
“Okay. Sleep well. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her again before straightening.
“Be safe.”
“I will.” He eased the bedroom door shut. Double checked that all the windows and doors were locked, and the alarm set on his way out.
On the back step, he paused to study the names and pictures again, along with the addresses listed.
He didn’t see people when he studied the pictures. He saw features of targets to be eliminated, and how much money each job would transfer into his account. Seventy-five thousand each. The most he’d made yet. The boss wanted this leak fixed bad.
At this rate, he would have the money for a clinical trial spot in a few more months.
He glanced in the rearview mirror at their house as he drove away. Thought of Liana curled up alone in their bed, fighting to put on a brave face in front of him while praying for more time, for the symptoms to recede enough that her quality of life would improve even a little.
She was counting on him to get her a spot in the trial program.
He focused back on the road, mentally switching into hunter mode. Time was running out for them both. He had to get the remaining funds they needed and then get the hell out of this toxic web before the clock hit zero.