Page 123 of With A Little Luck
My general strategy is to stay hidden behind the curtain, but when Easton called, I thought it might be a nice change of pace to be out in the open. Not that Burlington is the place for an all-out war, but I thought protecting a client without the need to hide might be something new and exciting when I’m alwaysslinking around, taking out adversaries who don’t realize I’m there until it’s too late.
After meeting Quincy, I’ve determined what was missing from my life. Her sweet scent and indulgent smiles have changed me on a molecular level.
After twosmallfailures in my early days, my main goal in life was to get my rating to ninety-nine percent. I finally achieved that last year, putting me in the top one percent of respected assassins in the country. That particular victory no longer holds much appeal.
It’s a nice accolade, but I want Quincy more. Our daughter will be here in less than two months, and my priorities have changed.
My first goal is to take out Costa and his team by any means necessary. Then, I’ll simply kill off my professional persona and slip into a more normal life. My enemies will be none the wiser, and I can focus all my energy on what truly matters.
“My professional reputation means little to me at this point,” I deadpan. “I believe if we play our cards right, we can pull this off without anyone making the connection between the King of Hearts and me as Ridge’s new guard from Shadow Security.”
“That might actually be brilliant,” Calder says. “But you don’t just throw away a 99.1% contract completion rating. Guys work their entire lives and never get higher than ninety-seven percent.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve already made a plan of attack. It’s time they get on board. “Now, you said you had a location for the five members of Costa’s personal team? Will Valor be my partner? I’d like to tackle that as soon as it gets dark. I need to get back to Quincy.”
“I will be joining the two of you,” Easton says with a cutting smile. “From time to time, it becomes necessary to remindpeople why it’s best not to fuck with me. Tonight will serve as a brutal reminder.”
I’m up and over the four-foot metal chain-link fence in a blink. I don’t hesitate, moving toward the house in a crouch.
The last thing I wanted to do was be away from Quincy for even longer, but they were right. Doing this later made sense. If we had gone in as soon as the sun set, it would have been loud. Having at least four of them settled into bed for the night increases our odds of pulling this off without any of the neighbors calling the cops.
Before we exited the SUV, Calder verbally relayed everyone’s locations through our comms. Four upstairs, hopefully asleep, but possibly watching their phones. One remains downstairs, obviously designated to keep watch.
“West side window is clear, proceeding to the front door,” Valor whispers.
Easton follows him over the comms, saying, “In position.”
I hit the wall at the rear of the house and flatten my back against it, moving toward the door. Once I reach it, I take a knee and begin to work on the locks.
Luckily for us, this place is a rental and not set up like Costa’s personal residence would be. These idiots mistakenly think being on the edge of a neighborhood will keep them safe. They must not know how Easton operates.
Orme, for that matter.
Calder has the video feeds blocked from the homeowner, and several teams are set up across Burlington, ready to create a diversion if need be. Simple things like a bar fight here, an alarmtriggered at a pharmacy there. Basically, just enough to spread the police force thin if they do end up tipped off.
I move through the locks quickly, and once the final pin clicks, I shove the lock-picking kit into the side of my boot.
“I’m in place,” I say, keeping my voice low. “The door is clear to breach.”
“We’re good to go,” Valor says through the comms.
“Calder, count us down,” Easton whispers.
The low crackling of breathing filters through as background noise while Calder does the countdown. Once he hitsone,I fully twist the handle, popping open the door.
Keeping my gun in my dominant hand, I pull the knife from the holster on my thigh and shove my forearm against the door.
The long hallway goes all the way down to the front door, and I nod at Valor. We’re all masked as a safety precaution, but his size gives him away.
My job takes me into the kitchen on the left, and I don’t breathe as the one who’s supposed to be keeping guard comes into view. He’s seated at the small table, bent over a bowl of something as he shovels a bite into his mouth. His gaze stays on his phone, which is propped up with a napkin holder.
I come up behind him as silently as possible, but my shoes catch on the tile, and a soft brushing sound fills the air.
He drops his spoon, his head whipping up as he reaches for his gun.
It’s too late for him.
My left hand still holds my gun, but I use it on his forehead to pull his head back. The blade rips across his throat, and blood sprays across the table, over his phone, and even into his bowl. He gives up on the gun and tries to staunch the bleeding, but I bury the knife in his heart for good measure.
