CHAPTER 15
Paxon
I can’t believethis is happening. I don’t even know why Wraith is still here, except it feels like I don’t have a choice but to accept his help. For this to work, I have to understand a few things, so I start with the simplest of questions.
“How did you become a hit man? No, wait. What is your name? Your real name.”
He visibly tenses, but then he nods. “I was born Henrik Olsen in Hamar, Norway.”
His accent is way more noticeable right now.
“I landed in the US in my twenties. I came here because I heard you could become anything here. I had no real skills, no experience, but I had tenacity and courage. I first lived in New York and got caught up in some illegal fighting rings. I wanted out after I saw a guy get beaten to death and no one gave a fuck.”
Odd, considering he kills people.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, acknowledging my unspoken thoughts. “Ironic. I get it, but that was early on. Before I became what I am now. That happened after I’d been on the streets for a few years, bouncing from city to city looking for somewhere thatfelt like I could stay. Like I could belong.” His eyes are glazed, as if he’s remembering things he’d rather not.
“I got involved with some guys who were handling some big-time drug smuggling, and I hated it. I hated it so much, but I didn’t know how to leave. The boss would have hunted me down and killed me. I knew that. I knew I’d spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, but I was determined to break free somehow.”
He wrings his hands, his gaze now trained on the floor. I can tell this is very hard for him to talk about, so at least I have some sense that he’s being honest.
“My years with that group turned me into someone who could do anything to survive. Even kill.”
His words make me shiver, but I sit quietly, letting him get it all out.
“The boss was drugged out and getting more and more unpredictable. I walked in on him one night and he was…” Wraith pauses as his voice tightens, clearing his throat before he continues. “He was hurting a guy. Sexually. The other guys knew what was happening, but no one had the balls to stop it. I did. I stopped it.”
Wraith blows out a breath, and fuck, I want to go to him, comfort him, but he’s a fucking killer.
“I beat him to the point of unconsciousness and no one stopped me. They wanted me to finish him off and take over, but I didn’t want to run something like that.”
“What did you do?”
“I disappeared. I left the city and kept going until I got to Mistone. I hung out at this one bar downtown because the drinks were cheap and it was walking distance to this shitty motel I was living in. One night I saw Shadow and Stealth—uh, those are two guys I work with. Shadow runs everything. There was something about them that captured my attention. I was sure they were powerful. Special. I wanted to know more, so I followed them.” He half smiles. “They letme get away with it for three days before they confronted me.”
“They knew you were following them?”
“Yeah. Shadow knows everything. I swear the guy has a sixth sense.”
“Did they hurt you?”
He shakes his head. “No, they just wanted to know why I was following them. They took me to a quiet table in a busy club and asked what my story was. By the time that evening was over, I’d been offered a job, a home, and what would eventually become my family.”
My brow creases. “How do you get from point A to point B there? This Shadow guy just says, ‘Hey, how would you like to kill people for me?’ Is that how it goes?”
“A little more nuanced than that. He was honest about what they did and why. He told me things he didn’t allow—drug use, substance abuse of any kind—and how much he fucking hated sex crimes. I know it sounds weird, but his limits matched mine. I never said I was a good guy, Bouche. I’m not. I’m not justifying what I do. It works for me but I get that it’s not easy to accept. It’s why I’ve never been…” He pauses, exhaling slowly. “I’ve never been in a relationship. I wouldn’t be telling you any of this if it weren’t for how our worlds collided.”
“Does it endanger me that you’ve told me? Like the Mafia or something?”
“You watch too many movies.”
“The Mafia is real.”
“Yeah, it is, but you only know the fictionalized version of how it runs. Besides, I’m not in the fucking Mafia.”
“How is it different?”
“We don’t run a business doing anything. We don’t run drugs or people or get involved in shit. We have very specific, targeted jobs, and like I said before, it’s not like we’re going into amusement parks and blowing the places up. The people we deal with are not good people. Usually.”
