Page 54 of The Eraser

"Let's go," Maverick says, grabbing the fucker and throwing him over his shoulder.

I remake the bed, making sure it looks as though no one is here. I reach for his cell and a bag, shoving clothes into it. I'm going to make sure it looks as though the fucker took off in the dead of the night. When the cops start investigating, there's no doubt in my mind they'll also come to the same conclusion we have: he's working with the O'Learys. A cop working with a crime family never? Not fucking ever does it works out well. There's never any trust.

Maverick throws the cop into the trunk of the car and I slide into the driver's side, starting the engine. It’s time to get the fuck out of here.

"You good?" I ask him once we’re far enough away from the cop’s house that I don’t need to be as on edge.

"Yeah, all good," he says and I raise a brow. He's full of shit. “What?” he questions.

"Try again. What's going on?"

He glances out the window and I think he’s not going to answer, but he does. "You know how Denis' daughter-in-law owns the Agency—well, her family do?" he asks.

The Agency is a site where you can go and order hits, and you'll be told when and where so you'll know to have an alibi. It's a website for the elite. Not just anyone can stumble upon it. You have to be given a card and that card has a code, one that's only good for you. I have done many jobs for the Agency, and I have been paid well for them. From what Denis has said, his son Danny's wife, Melissa, runs it, or did while her brother and dad were in prison. I'm pretty sure she never gave up the reins for that.

"Yeah. What about it?" I ask, wondering what the fuck is going on with him.

"I work for them too, and lately, whenever I turn up to get the mark, they're already gone or dead. It's fucking annoying as fuck. Someone's doing it on purpose."

"How many?" I ask as I drive toward my farmhouse. It's going to take a while, probably another thirty minutes or so.

"Fifteen, maybe more," he sighs. "Most of them, I turn up and they're dead, like they've been displayed for me."

"What do you mean displayed?"

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "I mean they're hanging from something, whether it's a beam, bridge, or something else. Each and every single fucking one of them is hanging. All deaths have been ruled a suicide. It's not just in Ireland, but all over Europe as well."

I'm impressed. That's a great way to kill someone. It's hard to rule a suicide a murder. Most cops won't investigate further than seeing someone hanging and rule it instantly. Whoever's killing these people is doing a fucking great job.

"So they're playing with you? Taunting you?" I ask, wondering what they could be getting out of it.

"I don't know, but the fucked up thing is, I'm still getting paid for the jobs. Whoever's doing it isn't taking credit."

I let out a low whistle. "Damn, that's fucking weird, but I've got to admit, cool as fuck. You get paid and don't need to lift a finger."

He flips me off. "Fuck you," he says without heat. "What the fuck do I do?"

I shake my head. "I dunno, man. Is there any way you could speak with Denis, maybe get him to help you find out who the fuck is toying with you?"

"I haven't really spoken to Denis or Callie in a while. Whenever I do, they're asking where I've been and what we're up to. They know we're hiding something, but I won't tell them."

I grit my teeth. "Yeah, your ma's the same."

"You're going to have to tell them about you and Jess eventually, Stephen. Better get it out sooner rather than later."

He's right, but things have been busy. With the shit about Thomas wanting to sell Jess, it's made me even more protective of her, and that's something I didn't think could happen. I hate being away from her, and while I trust Maverick, Freddie, and Jer with my life, and I know they'll do whatever it takes to protect my wife, I still fucking hate that I'm not there to do it myself.

"Let's get through tonight first," I tell him. "Then when I decide it's time to speak with your ma—because let's face it, if anyone's going to have a problem with it, it's your ma—I'll have them all over and tell them together. You can then ask Denis to find out about your admirer."

"You're an asshole," he snaps. "Why the fuck would you say it was an admirer?"

I laugh. "That's what it sounds like. Someone's trying to impress you."

"Fucking prick," he snaps.

He thinks I’m joking, but I’m not. It really does seem as though someone is trying to impress Maverick, and if he doesn’t find out who it is soon, he could end up in a situation where he’s on the receiving end of that person’s rope.

ChapterTwenty-Three

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