Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Ghost
Muted ringing echoed through the loft, but it might as well have been a bomb.
My body moved before my eyes even opened, jackknifing up and leaping to my feet while reaching for the gun attached to my side of the headboard.
I turned the safety off as I melted into the shadows, fully dilated pupils sweeping the room with laser-like focus. Adrenaline—a potent cocktail—flooded my body so aggressively that I might have been dizzy if I wasn’t familiar with the sensation.
Instead of fighting against it, I let it wake every nerve inside me, sharpening the world until everything was crystal clear and in complete control.
That’s what made me so good at what I do.
Because I used the body’s natural responses to enhance the ones I’d trained it to have.
After a full sweep of the room, I glanced at the bed where Pip was still sleeping.
The control I was so proud of harnessing slipped a little, making my heart skip when I didn’t see him at first. Light on my feet, I shifted closer, finding his small form beneath the blankets, the pillow on his opposite side making more of a lump than he did.
The muted ringing continued from somewhere inside the apartment, and I moved toward the door. Before moving forward, I paused, glancing back at the bed as an uneasy feeling uncoiled inside me.
It never mattered before. The danger. Knowing, at any moment, I could be targeted and attacked—hell, even killed. I was born to die, after all.
Except now I had to live.
And keep him alive too.
I couldn’t just turn my back and sweep the apartment because I also needed eyes on him. At all times. If anyone comes for you, they’ll find me blocking their path.
The ringing stopped, turning the silence into noise, but still, my guard remained. After confirming the hallway was empty, I moved backward while keeping my attention ahead. The second my leg bumped the mattress, I leveled the gun at the door while the rest of me turned to the side.
“Pip.” I nudged him.
He made a little sound, but now was not the time to be cute as hell.
“Pip.”
He jolted, blond bedhead popping up from the blankets. “Hiro?”
“Shh,” I shushed, and the ringing started up again.
Rett sat up, the blankets falling to his waist as he rubbed his eye. “What is that?
“Get up,” I said quietly. “Stay behind me.”
His eyes rounded, the whites like little spotlights in the dark. Palpable fear wafted off him, and, you know, it pissed me the hell off.
Whoever was doing this was going to eat a bullet for their last meal.
Blankets ruffled when he rose on the mattress.
“Stay down,” I demanded, and he dropped back down.
Keeping my weapon aimed, I crouched low, showing him my back. He climbed on immediately, wrapping his arms and legs around me.
I stood, noting how pale his skin looked in the dark, how the white bands of his arms around my shoulders were basically glowing targets.
Wrapping my free arm over his to conceal as much of him as possible, I went to the door, moving faster this time.
The ringing had stopped and started all over again. Like a phone someone kept calling. Except our phones were on the nightstand, and there were no other ones here.
Tommy could have figured out my address. Or maybe Enzo gave it to him.
Hell, maybe it is Enzo himself. Maybe the blood I got on his suit earlier didn’t wash out.
My teeth gritted together, jaw locking tight as I moved down the hallway to confront whoever picked tonight to die. Because stepping into my house, putting my Pip at risk?
That makes you a dead man walking.
Was I supposed to make any kills not sanctioned by the government? No.
Did I give a rat’s ass? Also, no.
What were they gonna do, take me out themselves? They’d have to hire Kieran, and he’d shoot them for even asking.
The ringing got louder when I stepped into the living room but still seemed a little muffled. Like it was in someone’s pocket.
But really, who forgets to silence their phone when they break into someone’s house?
I mean, there’s amateur, and then there is stupid.
“It’s coming from over there,” Pip whispered in my ear, his finger pointing from beneath my arm.
After putting my back (well, his back) to the wall, I moved around the perimeter toward the dining room.
“Oh,” Pip announced as though he suddenly remembered what he’d forgotten at the grocery store.
Except he wasn’t the one who did the shopping.
“Shh,” I scolded.
“I think I know what it is,” he said, unwinding his legs like he was going to get off my back.
When pigs fucking fly.
“Stay where you are,” I warned, sweeping the room for any movement in response to our voices.
“It’s fine,” Rett said, dangling his feet toward the ground. “Put me down.”
“If you want down, grow longer legs.”
His arms unlatched, and his body dropped onto the floor with a thud.
I backed up so I was right on top of him, crouching low. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“You do a good job, Hiro,” he praised, patting my lower back. “But it’s okay now.”
Well, wasn’t he the patron saint of patronizing?
He tried to step around me, but I threw my arm out like a seatbelt.
“It’s my backpack.”
“What?”
“The ringing is coming from my backpack.”
“I thought you didn’t have a phone,” I said, confused.
“Well, it’s not mine.”
“Then what the hell is it doing in your bag?”
He started around me again, but I pushed him back.
“Stay behind me,” I ordered and started toward the table. His bag was on a chair, and the second it was within reaching distance, he slid around me and grabbed it.
It was the first time since I’d moved in here that I regretted not having a lamp. I mean, the light switch was on the other side of the room. Good thing I was at home in the dark.
The zipper was loud when he opened the top, as was the sound of everything tumbling out when he dumped the entire contents onto the floor.
Clothes and stuff dropped everywhere. The container concealing the biohazard he called a cookie rolled toward my foot.
The ringing was loud now as he dug through the small mound of clothes and pulled out a small black burner phone.
“Where in the hot hell did you get that?” I demanded, finally lowering my gun.
“You don’t have to say hell is hot. It’s implied.”
“Are you sassing me while I’m standing here with a gun?”
“Tommy,” he said.
I just really didn’t like any of the words coming out of his mouth. “Items from hooligans are not gifts. They’re reasons you end up on a witness list!”
“He tried to give it to me, and I told him I didn’t want it. I guess he put it on my desk when I wasn’t looking. I must have grabbed it when I was getting my work stuff to come here,” he explained.
“Yet another reason that job of yours was like decaf coffee… pointless!”
He opened his mouth, but really, I’d had enough of it.
“And also… you came where?”
The lord be testing me in the middle of the night. Wasn’t the first time. Looking at that face… I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
He sighed. “Home. But is it really home when you already bought a new one?”
The phone went off for the eleventy-third time. Frankly, I was impressed with the amount of battery such a shit burner had.
Oh, fuck.
“Tommy said when he called, I had to answer.”
“And if Tommy told you to leap off a bridge, would you do that too?”
“No. But if you told me to, I would.”
“You flirting with me? Because it’s a bad time, but also, please go on.” I could just shoot the phone. Problem solved. Too bad it wasn’t that easy.
“Answer it,” I said, already mad about it.
He did a double take. Then, “You want me to answer it?”
“Fuck no. But maybe he’ll tell you where to meet, and I can have Enzo go take care of his problem.” Plus, I knew if he ignored the call, we’d probably have people on the doorstep.
The urge to shoot the phone came over me again. So strong I forced myself to put the phone on the table.
“Hello?” Pip said.
The one time I tell him to do something and he does it immediately. Like socks with sandals. Just wrong.
I motioned for him to put it on speaker.
“Do you know how many ways I thought of killing you while I was waiting for you to answer? Next time you take that long, I’ll hang up and pick the bloodiest option on the list.”
Enraged, I grabbed the gun. Oh god, I’m turning into Kieran.
“What do you want?” Rett asked, voice steady.
“Am I on speaker? This is supposed to be a private call.”
“You can hang up anytime you want,” Rett said coolly.
I glanced at him, impressed. Might have to help him hold up his big balls later.
Might enjoy it.
“I moved up the deal. We’re meeting tomorrow night,” Tommy said on the line.
“Why’d you move it up?” Rett asked.
“You follow orders, not ask questions,” he barked.
Oh, this dude was cruising for a bruising. And he could take those bruises to hell with him.
I’d say hot hell, but, apparently, it’s implied.
Rett glanced at me, and I shook my head, letting him know to say nothing.
“Well,” Tommy demanded after a moment, “aren’t you going to ask where to meet?”
“You told me not to ask questions,” Rett deadpanned.
“All right, fuckface, since you wanna be a good obedient boy…”
He did not.
“Twenty-one Parker and Main, bottom floor. Tomorrow night at midnight.”
“Will you be there?” Rett asked.
“No. One of my associates will be there, and he will give you the address then. He won’t tell anyone unless it’s you.”
He picked right now to have a half-decent idea? Of course he did.
“And if I don’t show?” Rett asked.
“You’ll show. And you’ll be alone. Leave that attack dog at home.”
“He’ll never let me out of his sight,” Rett said.
I nodded. That’s right. Stalker for life.
“Then take away his sight.”
Rett sucked in a breath. “I would never,” he said, the first sign of anxiety in his voice.
“Fine, I will. But I’ll make sure it hurts.”
Rett jerked back, his face a mask of pain and fear, those stormy eyes seeking me out like he needed a lifeline.
I scooped him up and sat down with him in my lap, wrapping my body around his and intentionally holding the gun where he could see it. I hoped he understood the silent message that, if Tommy came a calling, it was his funeral and not mine.