“To offer you protection.” He rises and stands over the body, his face hardened with anger.
“Now that he’s dead, I don’t need it.” I bend down and pull the dead guy’s collar aside. “I caught something on his neck.”
Behind the guy’s ear is an inked dark skull with a serpent coming out of its mouth. I take out my phone and snap a photo.
“Don’t bother. I know what that tattoo means,” Ares says, voice calmer now. “You eliminated a contract killer who has ties to a very dangerous organization.”
“Great.”
“I can fly you to my home in Santorini and?—”
“No thanks. How did you get a lock on this guy?” I kick the body.
“Atlas hacked his phone. He was texting a blocked number, saying he was on his way to pay back the Irish hitman. I got in my car with the guards and hoped we could stop him.”
“You’re late. But it’s the thought that counts. Help me move this thing onto a tarp.”
He grabs me by the throat. “Have you forgotten who the fuck I am?”
Kings don’t clean up dead bodies. Got it.
“Then get the fuck out,” I bark, slapping his hands off me. “I don’t need your house in Santorini. This is a complication I didn’t expect. But I can handle it. I can put fake messages in his phone and make his death look like it was someone else.”
One Greek eyebrow rises at that one. “The woman who saw you kill him is a complicationIdidn’t expect.”
“What woman?” a voice asks from the doorway, making me jump and pull my gun.
“Fuck. Trace!” I have the barrel pointed at my brother, the Empire’s enforcer.
“What’s going on? Who’s the stiff?” Trace, dressed in a suit, asks as he looks at the body. Our two trackers, Blade and Jett, fan out behind him. Blade is cold fury in inked skin, while Jett is loose and easygoing, even when he’s warming up his knuckles and itching for violence.
Ares takes advantage of the three inches he has on my 6’5’ brother.
“I needed a favor,” Ares finally answers Trace. “This man had to die.”
“Looks like he’s accomplished that?” he says, crossing his arms.
“I was told he was a drug dealer,” I interject before Ares starts telling lies.
“And he’s not?” Trace asks, looking from Ares to me.
“I needed him gone.” Ares squeezes my brother’s shoulder. “And I wanted your night demon to handle it.”
Night demon? I like that.
“You call this handled?” Trace grumbles.
“Aye, it’s a mess.” I wave to Blade. “I need a tarp. Get rid of this guy.”
“Got it, boss. Let’s go,” Blade signals to Jett, and they move instantly with merciless efficiency.
But Trace blocks them with his arm. “This is your goddamn home, Rhys. You need a professional cleaner.”
“Calling the crew now,” Jett says and paces in my kitchen while Blade watches the front door.
Hopefully, no one else wanders in here.
“What woman is Ares talking about?” Trace isn’t letting that one go.
