Page 59 of To Catch A Rook

Brief silence.

“We already have a contract for this person, and we don’t take on the same assignment twice, as I’m sure you can understand.”

Rising heat took hold of my muscles and my spine stiffened to steel.

“You’re telling me that someone else has already selected Hillary Lane as their target?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, sir.”

“Well, cancel it.” I allowed the threatening tone to fully color my voice—the command I only used to strike fear into the hearts of demons. “I’ll pay double the fee. Today.”

Finally, a note of fear. “I’m sorry, sir. I—uh—we cannot do that. We take our commitments gravely seriously. I hope you will consider our services in the future.”

The line went dead before I could growl out a response.

Who thefuckhad hired someone to con Hillary?

My plan to put this case in the bag, so I could move on with my more important worries went officially on the back burner as my protective instincts kicked in.

Hillary had refused to let me in; every time I tried to sneak under her defenses to offer a sliver of security, she had pushed me even further away. It was all I could offer her in this fucked up scenario that was my life, and she had stomped all over it with stiletto heels.

The only way in was to give her the help she’s asked for; hand her a list to carry out her own twisted vendetta. I could keep an eye on her and work the case at the same time.

It was the lesser, only slightly lesser, of two evils, and yet …

Fuck.

A harsh breath escaped my lips as I pushed open the wide glass entrance doors. The crisp fall air did nothing to calm the dull thrum of my heart.

My plate was growing heavier with each passing day, and soon the ceramic was going to break. Before it shattered into powdered shards, I needed to keep my brothers in check, manage a turf war, and stave off my father from handing me a despicable empire of sexual slavery.

Andkill my lover’s lover.

Spectacular.

Four hours of tossing and turning in the makeshift bungalow I called my temporary home was enough to make me want to hurl a television through a window.

I could usually bury the guilt, compartmentalize the atrocities I’d seen and delivered to function throughout the day, but tonight, I couldn’t.

Killing men who’d earned their dark souls didn’t bother me. Watching the light leave their eyes and the blood seep from their skin was cathartic; one less piece of filth dirtying my shoes.

Aaron was no innocent man—as much as I could be called innocent, and my soul was likely the blackest of them all—but he didn’t deserve to die for his parents’ crimes.

After another hour of wide-eyed staring at the ceiling, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, armed with a cocksure plan but steadfast in my decision, consequences be damned.

Kellan:Antonio doesn’t agree to your terms.

Three minutes later.

Aaron:Am I to die?

Yes. But not at my will.

Kellan:I’ll give you a way out.

Aaron:Yes?

Kellan:Your building. Tuesday night. A fair fight.

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