13. Cian
Cian
I left her sleeping, unable to bear saying goodbye.
I’d be back tonight or tomorrow and then take Sean with me.
Project “Destroying Orson” was now starting in full gear.
I had two objectives today: one, to get him to offer me a position in his organization, and two, to get close enough to his computer to plant the small devices on it Sean had given me.
Today would be the right day to plant them so we could move ahead quickly.
They would be activated at another time, but they needed to be in place.
I made sure to take all the precautions Sean and I discussed.
I patted my pocket, suppressing a shudder, knowing, if needed, what was in there was for Skylar’s protection.
I didn’t even ask Sean how he’d obtained what was in the small bag.
I didn’t want to know. Everything I did now carried with it the added layer of needing to make sure she was okay.
Sean had done a quick search, and we’d both looked over the information we could find on her father and background to make sure neither was connected to Orson in any way since he had been a prosecutor.
I couldn’t risk my operation—or her. But her father was exactly what Skylar thought—a good guy.
The pictures we found were few, but I could see she looked like him.
The online obituary was short and the comments scarce, mostly talking about his record of service.
Skylar was as alone in the world as she thought she was.
Until now. I had to get this done so we could start new, and I could make sure she was never alone again.
But for now, I had to dismiss her from my thoughts and once again become Anthony. My foot pressed down on the accelerator a little harder.
Showtime.
“ H ow is it, Anthony,” Orson drawled in that nasal, annoying voice of his, “that you manage to show up with no notice? I can’t track you, locate you, or even know you’re approaching until you show up at my gate. How do you stay so invisible?”
I shrugged, keeping my facial expression impassive. “Another talent, Orson.”
“Indeed. I don’t like it.”
Again, I shrugged.
“You took your time getting here. The snow ended two days ago.” His voice held a trace of impatience.
“I wasn’t exactly within city limits.”
“Where exactly were you?”
I pulled a folded piece of newspaper out of my jacket pocket, tossing it on his desk. “Nowhere that exists anymore.”
He reached out, snagging the article, a cold, emotionless smile on his face as he read about the farmhouse burned to the ground, located in the opposite direction of where I had actually been staying.
Sean had been right when he said Orson would want to know where I’d been, and he had paid to have this story planted in the local paper. He thought of everything.
“No survivors?” he asked. “No…extra guests?”
Shit. He wasn’t going to let this go.
“Nope.”
He studied me over the newsprint. “For how insistent you were on holding on to the girl, you didn’t keep her around long.”
“I never keep things past their expiry date, Orson. Ever.”
“Not fresh enough for you?”
I steeled myself, making my voice cold and detached. “Not respectful enough.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows rose. “And?”
I pulled the small pouch out of my pants pocket and dumped the contents on the wood. The small items lay on the dark stain, glowing white under the bright lights. He stared at them, his eyes wide.
“I…don’t…like…biters,” I spat out.
His gaze bounced between the teeth lying on his desk and my face, which I knew was dark with fury—but not for the reason he thought it was.
He leaned forward, and I covered the small pieces with my hand.
“Mine, Orson. No one touches my trophies but me.” I scooped them up and poured them back into the pouch, replacing it in my pocket.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs and swinging one in what I knew he thought was anger. “Any other questions?”
His face contorted, and he threw his head back, his creepy-ass laughter sending chills down my spine. It was everything he was—dark, twisted, and vile-sounding. I hated his laugh as much as I hated him.
“You, Anthony, are a man I can identify with. We think alike. No one touches my trophies either.”
“I bet you have lots.”
“I might be persuaded to show you one day.”
It took everything in me not to jump up and tell him to show me now. Instead, I feigned nonchalance. “One day. You insisted I come here—so, talk.”
His eyes narrowed. “You try my patience. Don’t make me kill you—it would be a waste of your talent.”
I chuckled low in my throat. “If I wanted, Orson, you’d both be dead before Rex could move his fucking pinkie finger. So either talk, or pay me what you owe and I’ll leave. I don’t really give a shit either way.”
Grudging respect crossed his face. He began to speak again, and I held up my hand.
“Privately.”
Rex growled from his corner.
Orson shook his head. “He stays.”
“I showed you enough respect to come alone, so show me the same and discuss business with me without your lapdog.”
Rex stepped forward, his sheer size menacing without the murderous look on his face. I gazed at him impassively.
Orson tented his fingers. “Leave us, Rex.”
Rex grunted. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
I waited until he had left. “How many cigarettes does he smoke a day?”
Orson shook his head. “None. Over a year ago, there was a fire—purposely set. Rex was protecting me—he saved my life and ended up the one injured. It damaged his vocal cords, left the scars on his face, and affected his eyesight. He almost didn’t make it, and when they took the bandages off, I hardly recognized him. He sacrificed himself for me.”
“That’s loyalty.”
“He is one of the few I trust.”
“I got rid of your mole. What else do you want from me?”
“Rex can’t be everything I need anymore. But he has a job with me until…he doesn’t.”
I didn’t need to know any more. I highly doubted there was a retirement package in Rex’s future.
“So?” I prompted.
“I want you to join me. Work for me.”
I shook my head. “I work for myself. I don’t take orders. From anyone.”
“Consider it a consulting job.”
I pretended to consider it. “Doing?”
“I need more enforcement than Rex can provide. I want to know who planted the mole and make an example of him. I need the reaction your being in my organization will cause.”
“Reaction?”
He leaned forward. “When word gets out we are now a team, the ripples of fear will be… delicious . The great, invisible assassin Anthony Malone within my inner circle?” His fingers bent and twisted. “We’ll be legends.”
“I’m already a fucking legend,” I growled. “I did it on my own. I don’t need you, Orson.” I stood, towering over him. “And I repeat. I don’t work for anyone.”
A glimmer of fear passed over his face, and he jumped to his feet. “I meant no disrespect.”
I shook my head. “Not interested.”
I turned to walk away. I hadn’t even taken three steps when he spoke again. “Name your price.”
I pivoted, my heart racing. I had him. “What?”
“I’ll give you six million.”
“And what exactly do you want for six million, Orson?”
“A few months of your time. I want your continued enforcement and your expertise. No one will cross me with you on duty.”
“Are you still being crossed?” I asked, already knowing things were still happening he couldn’t explain. “You don’t think taking out the mole was enough?”
He drifted his fingers across the keyboard in front of him absently. “I don’t know. Things are occurring. I can’t explain them, Rex can’t help, and I still don’t know how White got in. Getting rid of him was probably enough, but I want to make sure. I want to send a message.”
“Which is?”
“You don’t fuck with me.”
It took everything in me not to laugh. I was so going to fuck with him, and the asshole was going to pay me to do it.
I paused, exhaling heavily, pretending to reconsider his proposal. “Twenty million.”
His eyebrows rose. “That’s a lot of money for a few months.”
“Not compared to what you’d lose if things keep ‘occurring.’”
“What’s my guarantee you won’t take the money and disappear?”
“My fucking word,” I spat back. “I’ll take half now—consider it a signing bonus—and we’ll revisit in a few months. See where things are at.” I flashed him my darkest smile. “Not that I’ll sign a fucking thing.”
Inside, I was gloating.
Not that you’ll be around in a few months either, asshole.
“Ten.”
I shrugged and turned away again.
“Fine. Twenty. Ten now.”
“I only want half of the first installment wired to the account I gave you before. The other half to a new one.”
“Give me your details, and I’ll make sure it’s done.”
I smirked. “The new one requires my password.”
“You’re trying my patience, Malone.”
“I don’t take orders from anyone. We need to be clear on that. I’ll work with you—not for you.”
“I want you here on these grounds.”
“I’ll stay here, but I need some private time. And Carlo is free to come and go. He needs to look after my business for me. If I have something to handle, I handle it, no questions asked.”
“I’ll give you a car.”
“Fine.”
“All your equipment will be provided.”
I knew what he was doing—he wanted to monitor my movements. Follow me. Little did he know, it would never work.
“Whatever. I can use any machine.”
“I want your loyalty.”
That I grimaced at. “The only thing I’m loyal to is money.”
He sighed and started typing on the keyboard, his annoyance showing in the way he pounded the keys.
In a show of boredom, I sat down, sticking my hand in my pocket.
Cautiously, I felt along the lining until my fingers found the minuscule piece of equipment Sean had given me, sliding it onto the tip of my finger.
Thanks to Sean’s insistence on practicing the move, it was done quickly before any movement was even noticed by Orson.
“I need your information.”
I stood, moving behind him. “I need to be sitting.”
He stood and moved to the side. I sat down smoothly, making a show of pulling the laptop toward me.
The tiny chip easily affixed itself to the bottom of the laptop, forming itself to the hard plastic instantly—just as Sean said it would.
Then I held up a memory stick. “I need to use this,” I stated.
“What is it?”
“It interfaces with the new banking system I use. It only verifies my identity. You can watch.”
His eyes never left the screen as I plugged in the device.
Exactly as I said, banking information filled the screen, hiding the memory stick’s true function.
As I pulled out a piece of paper and entered the account number I had jotted down, then repeated the pattern with the number I had memorized for the other five million, it silently planted the software Sean would need to bring down Orson and his empire.
I made as many errors as possible, muttering the whole time about how Carlo usually handled this shit, making sure the device was complete with its hidden function.
Satisfied it was finished, I pulled out the drive. “Done.”
Orson shouted for Rex, and I stood and moved back to the chair, watching as he came back in. “Get Donald and check it,” Orson snapped.
A thin, nervous-looking Donald came in and sat down, not saying a word.
His fingers flew over the keys, first typing in a set of test parameters, then passing a piece of equipment over the laptop.
I picked up a bottle of water, breaking the seal and taking a drink, hiding my grin as Donald nodded at Orson.
“All clear.”
Of course it was. Neither the software nor the chip was activated, and both were undetectable and would remain so, even when Sean started them.
They would begin working when I informed Sean they were in place.
Once their jobs were done, they would once again be deactivated and undetectable.
The chip would dissolve in forty-eight hours, and Sean would erase the program.
Orson sat back down. “Now, we begin.”
I set down the bottle of water.
“We begin.”