7. Zane
SEVEN
ZANE
There’s a package at my front door.
That’s not strange, in and of itself, but the fact that there’s no address written on it is.
Zane Vilani is all it says, written in elaborate calligraphy across the middle of the box.
I recognize that handwriting from the note in my office.
I crouch down, not wanting to pick it up and risk setting off a bomb.
Fuck, I need to start checking my car for bombs, too, don’t I?
I don’t think Sin will try to do something so impersonal, but if he gets desperate — or his client does — I can’t say for sure that they won’t resort to blowing me to bits.
Stefan is right next to me. “Boss,” he warns. “Step back.”
I give him an irritated look, but it’s not like I want to be caught in a blast. This is Stefan’s job.
“More than that,” he says.
I return to the gate. I don’t think it’ll make that much of a difference if it really is a bomb, but I see him look down at the box. He carefully slices into the tape with a pocket knife, peering down into it, then sifts through its contents.
From this distance, I can’t see what it is.
He grimaces, then he waves me closer. “No bombs,” he reports when I get closer. “But it’s not much better.”
Not much better?
“Let’s go inside,” he tells me, picking up the box.
I nod, unlocking my door. I deactivate my security system, then arm it again once we’re both inside.
I’m not getting careless, least of all in my own home.
“All right,” I say. “What is it? Anthrax?”
Stefan shakes his head, carrying the box into my living room. He sets it down on the coffee table. “Gloves?”
I nod and retrieve a pair from the bathroom. He puts them on, and it takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at when he pulls something from the box.
It’s a hand.
A heavily tattooed hand, and one I recognize without thought.
Colt.
Ice runs down my spine as I reach out for it.
Stefan stops me, and he pulls something else out of the box with his other hand.
It’s a miniature flogger.
I bark out a laugh of disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.
I have no idea how Sin managed to take Colt down long enough to cut off his hand — and that’s assuming Colt is still alive.
I doubt he is.
What message is this supposed to send? That Sin is watching me wherever I am? Why would he target Colt?
I sit on the couch, my eyes still trained on the hand Stefan is holding. He puts it back into the box, along with the flogger.
“I’ll get rid of this,” he says.
I run my hand through my hair.
What a fucking week.
First, the attack at Genevieve’s. Then the spying at the warehouse. And now…
This.
I pull out my phone and call Colt—just in case.
I expect it to go straight to voicemail, but someone picks up the call.
“Colt?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, Colt is currently unavailable,” a familiar, smooth voice responds. “I could take a message for him though?”
“I take it he’s permanently unavailable,” I reply. The ice threatens to turn into heat, something unfamiliar, something unwelcome. Who the fuck does Sin think he is, going after someone in my circle?
More importantly, how had he even known about Colt?
With mutually assured destruction in the picture, neither of us would’ve told a soul about what happens when we get into a private room together.
That means Sin had to have seen something.
Considering I haven’t seen Colt in a few months…
Either Sin has been stalking me for a long time, or he was at Absinthe last night.
I look at Stefan, my eyes narrowing. Could Sin have gotten close to me without either of us noticing? Had he slipped into the VIP area, watching me talk to Jayce and Colt?
It shouldn’t have been possible, but he might have connections.
And I know for a fact his client has money. Otherwise, Sin wouldn’t have been able to bribe his way into Genevieve’s party.
Sin laughs. “It depends. Are you able to piece a man back together? Are you part of one of those New Valence death cults that claims to know the secrets to reviving a man?”
“No. And before you ask, I’m also not a necrophiliac,” I tell him.
The words are flippant enough, wrought of ice rather than heat, but my unflappable act is slipping.
Colt hadn’t been a friend, per se, but we’d shared a secret that’s dangerous in our world. Had that created a sort of kinship between us that explains my anger? Or is it simply that Sin had gotten too close without my knowledge?
Either way, this deserves retribution.
I force myself to calm down, to think through this meticulously instead of letting rage dictate my actions.
I’m sure he’ll ditch Colt’s phone before too long, but if he’s had it with him, there’s a chance I could track where he’s been.
He’s not the only one who can play stalker.
I have my own connections, after all.
“No? You wouldn’t lovingly kiss my corpse after you kill me?” Sin sounds downright disappointed.
I huff out a harsh laugh, but I think back to the kiss. No, I wouldn’t want to kiss him after he’s dead. That’s strictly reserved for while he’s living.
Except that’s never happening again.
Even when I do hunt him down — even when he becomes my prey — I won’t be kissing him. I won’t ever let myself be distracted by that beautiful face or this smooth voice again.
“No,” I confirm. “But it’s nice to hear you’re making peace with the inevitable.”
Because it is inevitable.
“Inevitable?” Sin hums on the other end. “More like impossible. A fantasy. But you can’t handle me at all. No, I need to figure out what I’ll do to you once I’ve finally killed you. It would be a shame to dump a body as lovely as yours in the swamp.”
Stefan is giving me a ‘what the fuck’ look, but I ignore him.
I scoff. I can more than handle one femboy assassin.
“Yeah? Any decisions?” I ask.
Focus.
I need to focus.
But he’d been close enough to see Colt and me together, which means he’s even more wily than I’d given him credit for.
I wonder if he’s staying in the same place while we talk or if he’s on the move. Genevieve’s submissive can do magic with anything tech. He might be able to track where Colt’s phone has been.
“I should create artwork out of you, the way those TV killers do,” Sin responds. “But can you imagine the smell? There’s no amount of embalming fluid that would make it pleasant. I’d ruin my clothes, too, getting that art installation set up.”
“Nice to see you have priorities,” I note, ignoring the agitation trying to ratchet up inside of me. “And it’s always a nice thing to work with a professional. Tell you what. I’ll match what you’re being paid to kill me, give you a bonus, and give you a night to remember.”
If he’s a pro, he would never take me up on my offer.
Still, it’s worth a try.
There’s a small hesitation before Sin responds. “What’s the bonus?” He still has the amused tone, but something about the quality of his voice is different now.
It’s my turn to hum in thought. “Negotiable. We don’t know each other well enough to throw around offers blindly.”
Yet.
He intrigues me, far more than he should.
Nobody should have been able to get past my security at all, never mind three times.
If he’s smart, he’ll pretend to take me up on my offer, get close to me, then murder me on the spot.
It’s what I would do.
But I can’t help but think that the world would be much more interesting if he surprised me.
“A date,” Sin answers glibly. “In public. And we start at your casino.”
That makes my heart drop into my stomach.
Of all the things he could demand, that wasn’t even on my list of possibilities. I could never go out with a man in public.
It would ruin everything — my image, my reputation, and my future.
He knows that. He knows exactly what a public declaration like that would do, and that’s why he’s taunting me with that impossible suggestion.
“A private tour at my casino,” I counter. “And a cozy meal before I test your assertion that you could give me far, far more than that woman ever could.” I chuckle darkly. “More than Colt could.”
“I’ve already toured your casino. You need to upgrade your office chair,” Sin says. “And Colt honestly couldn’t take all that much.”
Then he hangs up on me, leaving me staring at my phone.
I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d said yes.
The next time I lay eyes on him, I’ll wrap my hands around his slender, delicate throat and strangle him properly. I’ll see the light leaving his eyes.
I glance at Stefan, whose expression telegraphs his disapproval.
“Check out the house and the grounds,” I tell him.
“I don’t trust that he won’t come back tonight.
I’ll need you and Bill to be on twenty-four-seven duty.
” I pause, then purse my lips as I stare him down.
“I hope you pay more attention here than you did at the club.”
His eyes flash with indignation. “What?”
“He was close enough to see me with Colt,” I say coldly. “He was potentially close enough to take me out. I pay you to deal with shit like this.”
I see the moment he wants to make a retort — probably about me going where he can’t follow, about going out in public when I know an assassin is on my ass — but when I narrow my eyes at him, he stops himself from speaking.
Smart man.
“Now go,” I tell him.
“On it, boss.” Stefan gets up, stalking away.
I shake my head as I watch him go.
Tapping on my phone, I call Genevieve. “Hello, my dear,” I say when she picks up, my voice pleasant despite the need for violence coursing through my veins. “I’m calling in the favor you owe me.”
“Oh?” she asks, and I can practically see the arch of her brows. “And what favor is that?”
It’s all I can do not to growl into the phone. “Don’t fuck with me tonight, Gen.”
“Is this about that assassin?” she inquires.
“I would think that would be obvious,” I retort, some of my control slipping. I get up, pacing across my living room. I glance in the direction of the coffee table, where Colt’s hand still sits in the box with the flogger.
Genevieve huffs. “You don’t need to be rude, Zane.”
I bite my tongue against the retort I want to make. “Forgive me if I’m a little on edge when someone is actively trying to kill me,” I snap. I take a deep breath in, then before she can reply, I say more calmly, “He killed Colt.”
There’s a pause on the other line.
She may not have known Colt well, but I’d brought him to one of her parties. She knows that I trusted him enough to introduce him into my inner circle.
“What do you need?” she asks, finally giving me her full attention.
“Your tech guy,” I tell her. One of my hands clenches, and I imagine all over again that I’m choking the life out of Sin. “Can he trace where a phone has been?”
“If anyone can, it’s him,” she confirms. “Text me the details.” She pauses again, then adds in a softer voice, “I’m sorry, Zane.”
Control. Stay calm. Stay in control.
I hang up before I tell her where she can shove her apologies.
I can hear Stefan’s footsteps as he checks the house for any threats, and my jaw clenches. Sin hasn’t been in my house that I know of, but the very idea of it threatens to send me into a rage.
He’s already fucked with my office and tainted my time with Jayce at Absinthe.
Those should’ve been safe places for me.
Safe places don’t exist, though.
And the people we trust aren’t always worthy of it.
I know that better than anyone.