Page 24 of Heartless

CHAPTER NINE

Two thousand miles away

The Killer gave himself a mental pat on the back. Things were finally beginning to add up. As one of his foster mums would say, This was a fine kettle to fry fish. Yeah, it hadn’t made sense to him either, but somehow it seemed to fit this situation.

When his hired men had come running out of the building like the devil himself was after them, he’d had his tool bag in hand, ready to cross the street. Telling them to rough Livvy up and get her ready had been a genius move, if he did say so himself. He’d given them a few things to say to her, most likely confusing the hell out of her. The truth would’ve come after she’d been dosed.

But now, oh yes, now he had more intel than he’d ever imagined. The one piece of information that made everything else click into place.

Once he’d seen that the op was blown, he’d stayed back and watched. Two big brutes had dragged one of his men, obviously unconscious, out of the building. Where they’d taken him and what they’d done with him was of no interest. The poor sop knew nothing other than what he’d been told. He was a disposable tool, and good riddance to him.

Just when he’d thought the night was over and he’d have to find another way to get the intel he needed, another man had stepped out of the apartment building and limped his way to a waiting SUV. It was as if angels had begun to sing. So many questions had been answered, and he hadn’t even had to get his hands dirty.

There was some disappointment, admittedly. It had been years since he’d seen Olivia. Ever since he’d gotten this assignment, he’d been dreaming of bruising that soft, tender skin and marring her beauty. Alas, he hadn’t gotten the chance, but despite the missed opportunity for some fun, he’d gotten something infinitely better.

This was a game changer. Nicholas Hawthorne, aka Hawke, wasn’t dead like everyone thought.

He didn’t know if he was happy or sad about that. He hated the bastard—had for years. Years ago, Hawke had taken what belonged to him. And now, he had apparently done it again. No way Hawke wasn’t behind all of this. And no way his superiors weren’t going to go apeshit when he told them.

Remembering what he was supposed to be doing, he scowled at the bruised and bloodied men who stood before him. “How could you let them get away?”

“It wasn’t like we had a choice,” one of them said. “Those men surprised us. We didn’t know anyone was watching her. We barely got away with our lives. Douglas was caught.”

“That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

These men weren’t professional soldiers. But, on the upside, they had no morals either. That could be a double-edged sword, as they had no liking for him and weren’t committed to any kind of higher mission. The counterbalance of having someone willing to do almost anything for money was an acceptable trade-off.

They didn’t, however, have the kind of guts he’d wanted them to have. Hence, one of them had been captured, and the rest had swarmed away like frenzied roaches.

“What are we going to do to get Douglas back?”

He snorted. “You think I care about him?”

“He’s my younger brother.”

“He knew what he was getting into when he accepted this job. You all did. You get caught, that’s on you. I’m not pulling your ass out of the fire. You’re on your own.”

Before any of them could protest, he turned his back on them. He waited for a few seconds to see if one of them would try anything. They always checked their weapons at the door. That was a major rule, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try something. They were street fighters and knew every dirty trick in the book. In a way, he hoped they would come after him. He had some untapped energy he needed to get rid of. Unfortunately, no one made a move.

Sighing, he faced them again. A handful of ragtag mercenaries didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but that was okay. They knew how to kill and had no qualms about doing so. For what he needed, they’d do.

“So what now?” one of the men asked. Harold or Howard? Something like that.

“We lie low and wait. Another opportunity will present itself.”

He had no worries about Douglas spilling any secrets. The man hadn’t known anything other than their plan to break into a woman’s apartment, secure her, rough her up a bit, and drug her.

He’d planned to question her himself. He had questions none of these men could fathom or understand.

The things he’d told them to ask her had been red herrings, geared to distract. It wouldn’t have taken Olivia long to figure that out. However, he now had intel that far surpassed what he might have gained from questioning her.

If Douglas talked, and he highly expected him to do so, he’d have very little to tell. The man would give a vague description of who’d hired him. That description would give absolutely no clues to his true identity. He looked nothing like he used to look.

Now that he knew Hawke was alive, this changed his focus. There was no doubt in his mind that the man had the intel he sought. Now he just needed to find him. An attack on Olivia had brought him out of the shadows the first time. Seemed likely a second attack would bring him out again.

He smiled at the thought. He had access to things few people could fathom. He knew exactly what needed to be done and how to go about doing it.

His phone chimed a text, and he glanced down to read it, cursing under his breath. Was he the only one they knew to call to get things done? He was no freaking babysitter.

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