So, Eastman couldn’t stand the idea of Soren taking his kill. Soren settled back into the seat with a smile. That shouldn’t intrigue and delight him as much as it did, but there was something about the guy that was magnetic to Soren. He was interesting, different, probably wildly more fucked up than many of the guys Soren usually dealt with. Perhaps even truly dangerous.
Soren had stalked his office the other day, poking and prodding at the man’s boundaries, noting how, despite Eastman’s placid facade, Soren could feel the tension vibrating from him. It’d gotten him hot, made him want to see what happened when the guy came unraveled. He just hadn’t anticipated getting to witness it so soon. Or ever, really.
Soren split his attention between Killeen’s goon in the parked car, who seemed to be engrossed in his phone, and the two windows on the back of the shop. He wasn’t expecting fireworks, but if he saw the flash of a muzzle or heard the familiar crack of gunfire, Eastman would be fucked—if he even made it that far. The doc was in shape, but fitness would never replace experience.
That wasn’t going to happen, though. The doc was smarter than pulling the obvious. Soren silently debated Eastman’s choices. Poison didn’t seem like his style. Too removed. But Eastman didn’t have the build or strength to choke or garrote Killeen.
A knife. Eastman was going to go full Dexter inside the shop.
Soren chuckled to himself and leaned forward, resting his folded arms over the steering wheel, chin on top. He just hoped Eastman was prepared to deal with the retaliatory shitstorm that was sure to come if anyone could pinpoint him as the killer.
Maybe he’d go pay the doc another visit before leaving town, give him a few tricks of the trade. Nothing major. Then,hasta la vista.
So, why did the prospect of being alone with Eastman again make Soren’s pants tighten?
Another five minutes passed. Soren frowned at the clock and studied the windows again. No hint of any action from within. The goon in the car was still idle and didn’t seem alarmed.
Soren’s thumb hovered over Ronin’s contact for another indecisive moment before he pocketed his phone again.
One more minute and still no movement later, the lines in Soren’s frown etched deeper. He rubbed at them in thought. Killeen could’ve gotten the upper hand, but if that was the case, Soren expected his security detail to be rushing in, and that wasn’t happening. If anything, it was quieter than normal.
Soren cracked the driver’s side door.
None of your business,he reminded himself.But when has minding my own business ever been any fun?
He eased open the door and stepped outside, sending off a quick text to Ronin to tell him to kill the security feeds.
Twilight gave way to a thick indigo darkness punctuated by cold fluorescent shop lights as Soren weaved through the parking lot, keeping an eye on Killeen’s goon while also watching for backup.
At the side door, he punched in the access code he’d picked up off one of the managers he’d taken a lunch break with the other day and slipped inside, pausing to listen.
There wasn’t much to be heard in the hallway, but as Soren edged closer to Killeen’s office, he heard grunts, panting breaths, the sounds of exertion.
Opening the door, he was greeted by red. Red all over the floor and a disheveled Eastman rolling in it with a bloody and viciously snarling Killeen.
Soren dove for the man and managed to lock an arm around his throat and pull him off Eastman. Killeen struggled in his grip as Soren pulled his knife and angled it toward Killeen’s throat.
“No!” Eastman growled. “He’s mine.”
Soren regarded the doctor, a cool gaze passing between them while Killeen bucked and swore against him. Then he nodded and tossed the knife to a panting Eastman, who took it, then seemed to hesitate.
“He’s suspected of killing a family of four in Reno for cutting him off on the Interstate.”
Eastman lifted his gaze to Soren’s, and Soren expected him to take a second to recalibrate, but the doc was apparently done with hesitation. He slashed the knife cleanly across Killeen’s femoral artery.
Killeen slumped in Soren’s arms within seconds, pants soaked with blood that seeped into Soren’s clothing. It was one of the messiest damn kills he’d seen in ages.
Eastman fell back onto his elbows, chest heaving, as he caught his breath.
“Couldn’t just leave him alone like I asked you to, huh? Trust issues? Or are you that personally invested?” Soren let go of Killeen.
“I’m not answering that.” Eastman eased upright and swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead.
“That’s answer enough.” Soren noted the doc looked like a damn magazine model, even with his glasses askew and his face dripping with sweat. “You’ve made a goddamn mess. This is what happens when people meddle where they shouldn’t.”
“I had it under control.”
“Yeah, looked that way.” Soren smirked.
