Page 35 of Scarlet Mark
“I did. At the benefit in New Orleans, I mean.”
She leaned forward. “Why?”
“I walked in on something I shouldn’t have and didn’t particularly like what I saw.” I shrugged. “When the guy noticed me in the doorway, he made the mistake of threatening me with a knife. I used it against him.”
Now I had her full attention. “What was he doing?”
“Beating a woman to death.” I finished my coffee and set the mug aside. “I reacted without thinking. Then found out he hadn’t been the only male in the room. That’s how I met Arthur Calthorpe.”
She frowned, clearly unfamiliar with the name. “That’s the guy you were talking to on the phone?”
Guy. I nearly laughed. “He manages the Tabella Della Morte. I’m one of his Cavalieri.”
“And that’s a fancy term for bounty-hunter assassin?”
“I’m a knight of death, sweetheart. Cavalieri Della Morte. There’s twelve of us. Thirteen including Arthur.”
“So he, what, recruited you?” she guessed.
“More or less. He’d been watching the scene unfold from the shadows.”
“And didn’t think to help the woman?”
I chuckled. “Not Arthur’s style. He’s a sadistic son of a bitch. Fortunately for me, the man I killed was causing him some business troubles. He called it a favor, told me he’d clean up the mess, and then called me two weeks later with an assignment. It started as blackmail—he had photos of me at the scene. But he kept giving me assholes to kill, people who had done some sort of wrong, and ten years later, I’m still helping him.”
I resented him a bit at first, but each case was a new bastard who deserved his fate. And now I couldn’t imagine any other life. He used me when he needed me, let me live in peace otherwise. A symbiotic relationship that allowed me to utilize and refine my skills in a lucrative manner.
“How many people have you killed?” she asked, not at all taken aback by my career path.
“More than I care to count,” I admitted. “But I have one rule—the person has to deserve his or her fate.”
“And you think I deserve mine,” she said, smiling sadly. “I wonder how many others were delivered justice unfairly.”
“You stole money, Amara. You’re not innocent.” The words were said with purpose. I wanted to be cruel, to provoke her into telling me the truth. Because she was absolutely right. I’d misjudged her, as I likely did others in the past.
However, unlike them, she had an opportunity to change fate. To provide me with a new path and a new set of targets. All I needed were the names, and I’d handle the rest.
“You know nothing about my circumstances, Killian.” A fire lit her blue-green eyes, pleasing me far more than I’d allow her to see.
Yes, kitten.
Come play with me.
Tell me a story.
Tell me who to kill.
“I know the facts. You stood a man up at the altar and ran off with half his bank account.” I lifted my hand to halt her impending argument. “Yes, it might be one of several accounts, but it’s still a crime. Not to mention the public damage you did by leaving him on the day of your wedding.” I tsked. “Poor form, sweetheart.”
The fire in her gaze grew into an inferno, her stoicism finally crumbling beneath a wave of fury.
“Poor form?” she repeated, bitterness coloring her tone. “The funds in that account were set aside to complete the payments to Geoff and Clarissa Rose.For me. So, in my opinion, as it was my eternal servitude being purchased, the account technically belonged to me. As for leaving Malcom on our wedding day? Isn’t it the duty of the bride to be a willing participant? Not a forced one? Or do you not care about that justification when evaluating a mark?”
Her cheeks were as red as her hair, her nostrils flaring.
I’d struck a nerve.
And learned a hell of a lot in the process.
