Page 37 of Scarlet Mark
I smiled. “Arthur Calthorpe is one of the wealthiest men in the world. He just doesn’t flaunt it. That’s how you run a lethal corporation like the Tabella Della Morte without government or political involvement. We kill people, Amara. Quietly. Quickly. Efficiently. But it’s money that helps us thrive.”
“So he’s more powerful than you are,” she surmised.
“Yes. Absolutely. But it’s also about mutual respect.” Something that had grown between us over the years. Sure, this all started because he subtly threatened to release a few images of me at a crime scene. But I didn’t accept that next case out of fear. No, I accepted it out of intrigue. “He offered me the opportunity I didn’t know I needed. I’ve never looked back.”
“You enjoy killing people.”
I sipped my coffee while considering how to reply to that. Being an assassin required more than a killing drive to succeed. It took concentration, discipline, and a lot of detective work. “Honestly, I enjoy the hunt more than the actual kill. But I’m skilled at both.”
“You didn’t bat an eye when you took down Boris and all his men.” She didn’t sound afraid when she recounted the actions, just matter-of-fact.
“That doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.”
She gave me a doubtful look. “But didn’t you?”
“Did they not deserve their deaths?” I countered, curious as to howshefelt about what happened.
“They definitely did.” She didn’t hesitate. “And I’m glad you killed them.”
Good.“Do you think that makes you a bad person?” I wondered out loud.
“Aren’t we all bad people in some way?” She leaned over to pick up the coffee mug I’d left for her and took a sip without testing the heat. Her lack of a grimace suggested a reasonable pain tolerance. “You kill for a living. I seduced for mine. And I took lives because I had no other choice. Does that make me evil? Or willing to do anything to survive?”
“It makes you strong,” I said, meaning it. “You’ve been through hell and lived to tell the tale.”
“At least until Malcom finds me again.” She stared into her coffee cup, her cheeks hollowing as she considered her next words.
I waited, not wanting to push her, not when I knew how close she was to breaking down and telling me what I needed to know.
Malcom Jenkins might be a powerful man, but he stood no chance here. I didn’t care who his allies were. I’d kill them all, one by one, leaving Malcom alone and without resources. Then I’d let him sweat it out for a few days, constantly looking over his shoulder, knowing I stood somewhere nearby, ready to end him.
And only when I felt he’d suffered enough from the paranoia would I introduce him to my blade. Slowly. Purposefully. Thoroughly.
Because no one threatened my life and got away with it.
Not even the predicted future president of the United States.
Amara
Icouldn’t believe I was actually considering this, but Killian addressed some impressive points. If I’d determined one thing about him by now, it was that he didn’t lie. Oh, he might evade. But the man prided himself on being honest.
And his actions thus far had proven his words.
In all my years roaming the high-society circuit, I’d never heard of the Tabella Della Morte. Nor was I familiar with Arthur Calthorpe. But I supposed that was precisely the point. They remained anonymous for a reason, being called upon for the most secretive of ploys.
Such as tracking down an errant runaway slave-bride. Malcom couldn’t go to the authorities without explaining his ownership of me. And he couldn’t just hire any random criminal organization to find me.
No, he went to the best of the best.
To Killian.
Now, Malcom’s ally had become an adversary. And the enemy of my enemy had the potential to be my new best friend.
I took another fortifying sip of the dark liquid, thankful that Killian hadn’t added any cream or sugar to ruin the strong taste. He’d operated like a machine in battle tonight, taking out all of Boris’s goons without flinching. While he didn’t admit to enjoying it, I caught the whiff of his adrenaline in the car, noted the way it gave him life.
This man meant business.
“I’m married to my job first and foremost. And I never fail a mission.”Those were his words back at the club. I’d taunted him about there being a first time for everything, yet he proved me wrong.
