41. Pigeon
FORTY-ONE
PIGEON
Lake
I stare at the barrel of the gun. The hand holding the gun doesn’t shake. In fact, if anything, the pistol in this man’s hand looks like an extension of his arm. The energy he emits is calm and collected, casual even, as if entering a room and executing three people is as easy as popping a can of soda.
This man is a professional killer. I’ve never seen one before, but everything about him screams just that. Since I’m still alive, he must want to savor my end. I close my eyes.
I hear a soft thud and then feel a dip in the couch. My body tenses. Is he sitting down with me?
He might be.
I open my eyes. Yes, he’s seated at the opposite end of the couch, left arm slung across the back of the couch, facing me. He’s sucking on the lollipop while resting the gun on his thigh.
“Heard you’re looking for me,” he says, his voice more masculine than the one he used when we spoke in the elevator.
“Who are you?”
“Miro. I’m Miro.”
This is Alessio’s best friend and his hitman, the man Alessio mentioned during the phone call I listened to. He’s the man who will do the job nobody else can do. I can see why that is. His eyes are devoid of humanity. Dead. It’s like they’re made of granite.
I glance beside me, where the woman knelt, then toppled over. “They were looking for you.”
“They found me.”
“I mean, I wasn’t looking for you. They were.”
“I heard you. You’re Leo’s governess. Lake Wilder. Daughter of Daniel and Fran Wilder, who died in an unfortunate airplane crash. Sister to one Prescott Wilder, who lives with your aunt and your uncle on the weekends.”
I say nothing because he asks for nothing. His gaze rolls over my body and settles around my belly. I look down and see that a button at the bottom of my blouse is missing. I pull my blouse together. As I do, I notice the pool of blood around the woman’s head.
“What’s on your belly?” He taps his own stomach.
“Hm?”
He points at my midsection. “Someone wrote on you. What’s it say?”
This man is very perceptive. “Nothing.”
“That’s what it says? Nothing.”
“No, it says something, not nothing.”
Miro smiles, but his eyes remain flat. When he leans in, I whimper.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
“It’s private,” I say.
Miro leaps up, and in a second, his gun is pressed against my lips. “Open your mouth.”
When I do, he nearly shoves the silencer down my throat.
“I saw a picture of Alessio’s dick in your mouth. Now, see, that’s what I call private.” He rolls his shoulders. “I owe Alessio Angelini my life. If I think you mean nothing to him, you will swallow the rest of the bullets in this magazine. I’m throwing you a bone. Since you refused to tell me, you will now show me.”
He steps back but keeps the gun in my mouth so I can’t answer.
I open my shirt, but he shakes his head. “Stand up. Slowly. No sudden movements.”
As if I’d dare. I stand and open my shirt so he can read what’s written under my bra.
Miro cocks his head, then looks up at me. “Does it say mine ?”
I nod.
“Who do you belong to?”
He removes the gun, and I swallow.
“Tick-tock,” he says.
“Alessio.”
“He wrote that?”
I nod.
He puts his weapon away and then strolls around the room, as if he needs some space to think. “This is a clusterfuck. Sit down. Don’t move. Don’t speak.” He walks away to get on the phone, and I start to button my shit, my gaze on the piece of plastic I handed to the sadist. I need to take it back. I have no idea what it is, but it’s important, and it might save my life when Alessio gives the order for this man to end me.
While Miro’s on the phone, he parts the curtain ever so slightly. I move a little more toward the desk.
He pins those granite-cold eyes on me, then approaches. I freeze.
“Sit down, Lake Wilder.”
When I do, he crouches in front of me and speaks to me as if I’m a toddler. “If you move from this position, I’ll shoot you and tell Alessio it was one of them who did it. He will believe me. Your life is at my disposal, and since I hesitated to shoot you in the first place, I would like to think I was right all along. You are welcome to prove me wrong.”
“Thank you.”
He blinks. “You’re welcome.”
“What happens to me now?”
“Up to Alessio.”
“What happens to my family. They threatened them.”
“The assassin sent after your family is dead. That’s how I knew something was wrong. I checked you out, but your family had an assassin watching them in the hospital room. I had to dig deeper and found out you were looking for me. I figured I’d show up and save you the trip.”
“My family isn’t in danger anymore?”
Miro shakes his head. “No.”
Relieved, I cup my face and cry. “Do you think they only sent one man?”
“Yes. It’s not that hard to kill civilians. You all are like pigeons on the square. Pop, pop, pop. Dead. The whole flock.”
Alessio used a similar analogy. He said Leo was going to be an eagle. “What happens now?”
“Up to Alessio,” he repeats.
“That’s who I’m most afraid of.” I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Miro nods. “That makes two of us.”