I stand in the darkness across from the street in a lonely stand of pine trees in front of an abandoned house. He kisses a tall blonde and then saunters down the walkway around four in the morning. The blonde tries to follow him, and when she gets close enough, he turns and punches her in the face. She falls hard on the unforgiving ground.
“I told you, you can’t come home with me. Melissa’s there.” He turns and starts whistling again as he struts down the sidewalk.
I follow on the other side of the street until we reach a more deserted area, and then I let him get ahead of me several yards before I silently cross to his side. The wind has picked up, and a light rain is beginning to fall.
I’m on him before he knows it, and I take him out quickly with a knife I snatched from Miguel’s kitchen earlier. I have all the answers I want. I believed Miguel when he said he didn’t know about the hit on Ella. That had come from Reyes specifically, and I bet he has accepted a contract for her life.
Leaving Juan drowning in his own blood, I move silently through the night back to my bike before I take off the gloves, turn them inside out, and tuck them in my pocket. I’ll burn these clothes even though it’s unlikely the police will do too much forensic testing on these men.
I think idly about dropping by Howard Fissure’s house, but I need to know more about him before I make a move. He probably has security.
I left Garik on Rosalie all night, and now that I have enough money to fund my payroll, I’ll make sure there’s a rotation of two guards on her at all times. The warning on her vehicle was for me, but I can see someone hurting her just because she’s my lawyer. They have no idea what else she is to me, and I’ll keep it that way for now.
So long as she understands who she belongs to.
TWENTY-FOUR
Alexei
Iarrive back at Rosalie’s around dawn and hide my motorcycle between the trees before moving toward her house. A dark shadow waits for me, and I’m not surprised. I keep my hands loose at my sides as Percy Jancovic slips out from his hiding place.
“I was surprised to see you out and about,” he says, a nine millimeter pointed at my chest.
“I have a good lawyer,” I murmur.
He’s aged in the seven years I’ve been in prison. Frankly, he was older than dirt before that.
“So I guess you didn’t quite die in that car that blew up,” I say wryly.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
I step closer to him. Will he actually shoot me?
“That’s far enough. We both understand I know how to kill,” he says.
“I would assume killing people is in your past.”
He’s wearing a pink polo shirt that covers his sunken chest and old-man pants that are held up by a belt over his belly. Grizzly gray and white hair sticks up all over his head, and his eyebrows are so bushy I’m surprised they don’t crawl across his face. His eyes are a cloudy brown and his ears much larger than I remember.
“Why did you fake your death?” I ask.
“I wanted out,” he says. “Your dad was dead, and that just changed the entire organization. Lillian doesn’t know what she’s doing. Or rather she does, and I didn’t like what she was doing, and Hendrix is no better. You were an asshole, and I didn’t see you ever making anything of yourself. So I decided to die.” He shrugs. “I ended up here, and I was her first boarder. Once I got here, once I got to know her, I couldn’t leave.”
Rosalie. She does seem to draw men to her like butterflies to the perfect flower.
I shake my head. “Why would you even remotely stay in this area if you wanted out?”
“Rosalie. Plus, I don’t go anywhere. Look at this.” He sweeps his free hand out toward the multitude of bushes, flowers, and plants. “This is what I do. I’m the gardener here. We all have a role.”
“None of them know who you are or what you’ve done.”
“Of course not. Rosalie thinks I’m a retired accountant, which I kind of am,” he says.
My chin drops. “You’re an assassin.”
“Well, I counted bodies, and sometimes I helped with the books,” he says defensively, his voice croaking.
I look at the gun. “What’s your plan?”
