Lark blamed me, but didn’t know the full story. I should have found a way to tell her, but hell, a part of me didn’t want to ruin how she saw the only father she’d ever had.
“So you want to talk with her?” Landon asked in his smooth voice.
I resisted the urge to run a hand through my hair. “I owe her an explanation.”
“It’s been months since you took out Ed.” Cole sat on a chair in front of my desk. “Why haven’t you done it already?”
“Because he knows it will hurt her,” Alessio said quietly. “She will learn that her father figure was a murderer. That he killed for fun.”
And there it was.
I’d discovered Ed’s sick secret. He’d been a fucking serial killer. He wasn’t the honorable agent, the sanctioned assassin, the man who killed for his country. He was just another twisted, sick fuck who’d killed loving families. Who killed kids.
I hadn’t told my friends all the details of Ed’s depravity. I’d just given them a brief overview of my reasons for killing him.
Now, I slid a hand through my hair, trying to ignore the twist in my gut. “Lark hasn’t exactly been receptive to talking. And yes, she’ll be devastated.”
Lark was a woman who’d already had enough devastation in her life.
“She’s already grieving his death,” Landon said. “She needs to know the truth.”
I nodded. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. “I’ll talk to her.”
Nash rose, his hands on his hips. “How are you going to do that without her putting a bullet in you, or stabbing you—again?” He shot a pointed look at my shoulder.
I resisted rubbing the wound on my shoulder. Lark had left a knife embedded in it. It was probably not the time to tell Nashthat I’d kept the custom blade, cleaned it, and sometimes took it out to look at when I was alone.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” I smiled. “Besides, your lovely Georgie would miss me.” I couldn’t resist needling him.
Nash scowled.
“Has anyone heard from Rafe?” Cole asked.
Rafe Archer was the last member of our unconventional, retired-assassins group.
“He messaged,” I told them. “He’s still in Europe. He’ll be back soon.”
“He’s on a job?” Landon asked.
“No idea.” Rafe had been an assassin for MI6. A real-life James Bond. He was also very British and had a thing about privacy. Half the time, he never told us where he was going.
“He’s probably buying some painting or statue,” Nash said.
Rafe was an art connoisseur. His villa looked like a freaking gallery.
I looked at my watch. It was mid-afternoon. I tapped my fingers on the desk. My friends were right. I needed to find Lark.
My best bet was to let her find me.
Yes. If I lured her out, she’d come.
I’d be the bait.
CHAPTER 4
LARK
Lengthening my stride, I powerwalked down the sidewalk. I made sure I blended in with the flow of people. The sky was gray overhead. Rain was threatening. The Strip wasn’t super busy this afternoon, but there were still plenty of people—locals, tourists, dedicated gamblers.
