Page 4 of Devil's Tulip

“Oh, trust me. I’m perfectly content watching the ‘Mad Hatter’ in all his glory from the comfort of this seat.” He smirks, propping his feet up on the dash.

I would roll my eyes if I were the type, but I’m not. So instead, I flip him the middle finger on my way out. The nickname doesn’t bother me—in fact, it serves its purpose perfectly, instilling just the right amount of fear in the cockroaches I have to share this planet with. Hell, I even tracked down the man who coined it four years ago and gave him a million dollars for his ingenuity. After ripping out his tongue for his audacity, of course. The name stuck, and I’ve grown rather fond of it. It’s catchy and popular.

I adjust the lapel of my suit as I cross the lawn, a ripple of satisfaction rolling through me with every step that triggers the motion sensor lights. It’s theatrical, almost poetic—like the universe itself is spotlighting my arrival. I hope Jake and his partner are enjoying the show as much as I am. These are their final moments breathing my air, after all.

At last, I reach the front steps and climb to the porch where a thick, reinforced glass door separates me from my prey. Beside it, a sleek panel awaits a code or biometric scan.

“What genius designed this?” I smirk, admiring my handiwork. Then, suddenly, light floods the anteroom, and I glance up to see two men watching me through the glass. Oneof them cowers back the moment our eyes meet, but the other one… arrogance practically drips off him.

“What is the Mad Hatter looking for on my doorstep?” he sneers, crossing his arms over his chest with disdain.

My smirk vanishes as I study him. While I don’t mind the nickname, only a very select few can call me that to my face and keep their head attached to their body. If I had any notion of showing these two mercy—which I hadn’t—his comment just buried it.

“You’ve been stealing from me, Jake. I’ve come to collect my due.” My gaze slides to his spineless sidekick, who gulps and takes another stumbling step back.

“No, don’t be scared, Damien.” Jack waves at the terrified man, motioning for him to stay put before returning his focus to me with a smug grin. “Mr. Hart here has no proof we’re the one he’s looking for. And besides, we’re safe here. This house is perhaps the safest place on earth for us.”

I chuckle slowly. “Is that so?”

“I paid millions of dollars for the security this fortress provides. It’s unhackable,” he brags, then faces Damien. “He can’t override the system no matter how big a brain he has.”

Damien doesn’t look convinced, but Jake just grins wider, making a show of flicking the mic off inside so I can’t hear the rest of the bullshit he’s spouting.

I tilt my head, amused by his idiocy. He honestly believes anywhere is safe from me.Me. Michael Hart. It's like he doesn’t know me, even though my reputation obviously precedes me. His naivety is only accelerating his death sentence.

Time for a reality check.

“What’s this system? Core Power?” I ask, almost conversationally, as I pull my work tablet from my suit jacket and start tapping a few keys. “Funny thing about that system. Know what company makes it?”

Jake’s smug smile falters. He mouths something to Damien, but the dumbass just shrugs.

“No? It’s Innovicore. And Innovicore, well, they’re a subsidiary of HartSphere.” I let that little nugget of info sink in before I twist the knife. “And you know who owns HartSphere, right?” I smirk, pointing to myself.

“No. No way.” The frown that creases his forehead is delicious—confusion giving way to the first tendrils of fear. “HartSphere specializes in phones and gadgets and some video games and a little security that—” His mouth goes slack as understanding finally dawns.

“Ah, there it is,” I say, grinning as my tablet pings. “Here’s a fun fact. You see, unless you specifically request a customized security system from Innovicore, all our software shares a similar base code—and my signature. Makes it quite easy for me to recognize the systems I design when I come across them. And guess what?” I pause, tapping the screen lazily, letting the silence drag just long enough to make him squirm. “That means I can override them. Anytime I want.”

His eyes widen comically, darting to the door lock. He licks his lips nervously before meeting my gaze again. “You–you’re bluffing. You can’t do that. It’s ethically and legally wrong and—” He stops short when he realizes who he’s talking to.

I chuckle, immensely pleased to see his face lose color. “Oh, Jakey boy. I absolutely can..” Without breaking eye contact, I press a single button on my tablet, corrupting the smart security. There’s a quiet buzz as the system disarms and the thick glass doors separating us slide open. “And I absolutely will.”

He lets out a cowardly squeak and scrambles backward as I step inside. “I keep things out, Jake.I’mnot kept out.”

His nerve snaps. And off he goes, spinning on his heel and bolting, leaving me alone with the terrified Damien, who’sfrozen like a cornered rabbit—wide eyed, pale, trembling. His gaze pleads for mercy, but I’ve got none to offer.

I heave an exaggerated sigh, pulling my gun from the small of my back. “I so hate it when they run. I don’t even chase women, and these rats expect me to chasethem?”

Seeing the weapon seems to jolt Damien to his senses, and he flees in the same direction as his friend. My tongue clicks in irritation. Now I have to hunt down two targets. And I doubt they’ll make it easy for me by sticking together.

Goddamn waste of time when I’ve got shit to do.

Grumbling, I text Lorenzo to get his lazy ass inside so we can wrap this up quickly. There’s a prototype waiting for me at home that I need to perfect, and I still need to check our medication inventory at the warehouse and monitor the next shipment.

I log into the cameras Jake so helpfully installed in every corner of his home, and just as I locate the vermin, Lorenzo walks in. “Damien is in the pantry and has found himself a knife,” I inform him, already heading deeper into the house. “He’s all yours. Jake is mine.”

Less than thirty minutes later, we step out of the house as our cleanup crew walks in to do their part of the job. Damn, I love it when shit runs smoothly. We’re a well-oiled machine, my team and I—everyone in sync, no questions asked, no hesitation. I roll my neck, the tension melting away as I sink into the backseat of my Phantom.

Lorenzo gets into the passenger seat with his usual ease, and the driver promptly fires up the engine. Just as I’m settling in, my phone buzzes. I raise a brow at the ID. “Rafael, to whatdo I owe this displeasure?” Lorenzo shakes his head up front, drawing a smile from me.

---