Page 25 of Broken Surrender
I stared up at him. “Thank you,” I said.For everything,I thought.
A smile crossed his lips and stayed for a moment, my heart swelling with warmth. “We have more training to do.”
I nodded, closing the door, heading back up to my bedroom. I put the panic button under the toy bag, where I’d always find it.
And somehow, I was able to sleep.
CHAPTER 8
Desmond
After I left the Dalton House, I dialed the head of my security. As the phone rang, I debated having the team guard Lena. But in the end, I didn’t bring it up.IfI let myself protect her, without her request, then that would mean that I cared if she lived or died, and that wasn’t the case. Lena was intriguing, and part of medidwant to protect her from the pain her ex had caused her, and yes, I enjoyed molding her to my grasp. But she didn’t matter. Redemption was on the line, my failure weighing down on me until I fixed this for good. Lena was only a part of that.
The monochrome building towered over every other structure in the center of Fairview. The Marked Blooms Syndicate had given me the target, but I used my own resources to scout him—though according to the rules, the target would have to die by my hands. Sadly, it was someone inconsequential: a banker who had screwed over a Syndicate member one too many times.
I waited in the parking garage, whistling to myself, idly checking my phone, fixing my valet’s cap while I waited. The staff had a high turnover rate, and the attendant on duty didn’t blink an eye at my stolen uniform when I told him ‘the boss’ wanted me to take over his shift.
The elevator clicked into place on the garage floor, then dinged open. A man stepped out, a touch of gray in his hairline, his cheeks hanging like a bulldog’s jowls.
“The white Audi,” he said.
I tipped my hat and grabbed the keys, jogging to his vehicle. I adjusted up my gloves, then got in his car and drove to the pickup location. I got out, leaving the door open. With his eyes on the steering wheel, he handed me a ten.
“Thanks,” I said. I pulled out my knife, flicking it open. He flinched at the noise, but not quickly enough.
I grabbed him, pulling him into my grasp, then slit his neck, the blood pooling out onto his car in a deep red stripe. I dropped him, then kicked his ribs until he was face down in his own blood, the fluorescent lights shining on the dark red pool.
I called Gore Bloom.
“It’s done,” I said.
“Good.” Then we both hung up.
The Marked Blooms Syndicate, as well as my own staff, would come by soon to deal with the mess and take care of the details. As for me, I had another plan.
After changing out of the uniform and into jeans and a black shirt, I drove to Oakmont. The target for the Marked Blooms Syndicate wasn’t the first time I had killed someone; in fact, I had gathered quite a collection of outfits to put my enemies at ease. Valets worked well, as did concierge staff. But when it came to a person like Lena’s ex-boyfriend, a fired pizza deliverer, I figured his old profession was best. I picked up a large pie from a generic shop, then loaded it into the insulated delivery bag.
According to my private investigator’s preliminary research, the man lived alone. It was perfect.
Overgrown trees and branches hung over the road, the yards filled with abandoned vehicles and broken down sheds. I banged on the door. The door screeched open, and a skinny man stared through the mesh divider between us.
“The hell do you want?” he asked.
“Delivery from Pizza Pie Company,” I said.
“I didn’t order from that crap house.” He threw a hand up. “Probably for my neighbor.”
“This is twenty-four-nineteen Kirkwood Road, right?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s already been paid for, man. Just take it. I don’t give a shit.” I grabbed my stomach. “But man, that shrimp buffet is going to kill me.” Sweat formed in the creases of my forehead. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“What? Hell no!”
“It’s your house or your yard. You pick.”
He opened the door. “Get in here.” I went inside, stumbling down the hallway. A ton of cords and cables were tangled under his desk, and an old box from Pizza Pie Company laid on the kitchen counter. Piss, beer, and mold infused the stale air. There wasn’t any toilet paper left on the dispenser. It was a good thing I wasn’t actually sick.
