Page 5 of His Target
I blink at him and then type into the phone so it will speak for me. "So, you're keeping me alive because you want to know what I'm wanted for?"
No one should know why they want me dead. The WPP said they made me disappear after testifying at Harold's trial that got him three consecutive life sentences with no possibility of ever being paroled. I thought after that monster was behind bars my life could begin for real. I could experience everything I'd missed out on for the last ten years of my life but little did I know he still had a myriad of friends in the same circles that knew what I had done and wanted me dead for it.
The WPP quickly found out that I would have to go into deep hiding. I've been living on the outskirts of New York, not in the city, not in the rich suburbs. Just in some crappy studio apartment I still have to pay for with my job at a grocery store. I can't make friends because anyone could be spying for the sex trafficking ring that wants me dead. They have people of all ages forced to work for them. I'd been one of them once I was too old for their typical clientele.
All I've known is pain and it seems like that's all I'll ever continue to know.
Porter rubs at the back of his neck. "Well, if you don't tell me, then I have to kill you. At this point, you’re a hit on a list and a liability because you know my secret."
A raspy laugh leaves me. I hate my laugh, I hate my voice, but he's gotten a chuckle out of me. I hurry my response. "Who am I going to tell? The ghosts in my apartment? If you've been watching me then you already know that I'm alone. I have no one. I talk to no one. But if you have a job to do then by all means take me out back and shoot me. There's no point in trying to convince you to let me live. There will be more like you, I'm sure. This isn't the first time. And hearing my story isn't going to change that. I'll just have to move states and change my name all over again."
They stiffen at my words. What? Have they never met someone on their list, or whatever it is that's willing to die? What do I have to live for at this point? I don't even have a fish at home waiting for me.
Cason pulls his brother from the room even though his blue-eyed gaze never leaves mine until the door is shut.
I sigh and put the phone on the bedside table for if that woman comes back. I look around. Dusk is setting in outside. I have no idea where I am, but I have to assume New York somewhere. I doubt he would take me across state lines or on a plane to get medical attention. Sure. I could try to get away. Jump through that window and run. But there are two issues with that.
One, I'm certain I'm not wearing more than my bra and sweats. I'm sure as hell not going to run around naked. That's just going to get me the wrong attention, and what I said to him is true. There will be more after him, so what's the point of running anymore? I'm tired. I'm not living as it is. I'm barely surviving. I haven't gotten to experience love or true friendship since I was a child. I had hopes that one day I could find someone who could look past my scars and baggage and love me, but I'm too afraid to let anyone in because any of them could be spies wanting to pull me back in. I rather die now than have to go through any more of what I've had to do.
I just hope they don't take forever.
Chapter Three
Porter
I've been doingthis job for nearly half my life. Since I was eighteen, twenty years of this, and never have I had someone look me right in the eye and tell me that they want to die. To go ahead and shoot them. Granted, a lot of my hits don't know they're going to die, but those that have gotten a chance to speak to me beforehand have always begged for their lives. Those were the scumbags of the Earth.
That woman in there doesn't seem like a single one of them. I've met a lot of psychopaths good at faking innocent, but I don't think she's a psychopath. I've seen raw, deep emotions play over her face when she didn't think anyone was watching. I watched her cry herself to sleep every night while the TV never ceased playing. She always had some kind of noise going on.
"Well, what are you going to do? This is your hit, your call, Porter."
Cason’s voice reaches my ears as he whispers at me so Ensley and Josie in the other room won't hear him. Dimitri went to pass out in their second guest room after drinking himself to sloshed. I guess he does have a problem. At least he'd been sober enough to help us out with her.
I look at the door. I shake my head. "For once in my fucking life, I can't do it. I can't look her in the eyes and shoot her and I can't poison her either. I know in my gut she's innocent. She's a victim. Maybe one that even spoke up, and now people want her dead. I'm sure of it. She's done nothing wrong that I've seen. She just seems tired of life. Which is sad because I'm pretty sure she's only twenty-one."
Cason runs his fingers through his hair and licks his lips. "I think I have to agree with you for once. That look that she gave us wasn't a look I've ever seen on any of the faces of the hits I've done. That’s the face of a tired, beaten woman who's reached the end of her rope and doesn't want to run anymore.”
He sighs. “I'm sure we're right about her being in the WPP. That's the only reason why she wouldn't show up with any history before four years ago. If you cut her loose and tell Dad why there will just be more hitmen after her from different circuits. Taking her to the WPP seems like your only option. She's not going to talk about us. Who's going to believe her? She's mute, and no hitman would leave her alive. They can at least place her somewhere else and that will throw them off her trail for a little while."
Until it happens again. But what else can I do for her other than kill her? I don't know if I can. Not with knowing what I know. I know she's not a monster and after seeing those scars on her body, I know she's been through some shit. It doesn't seem fair.
I nod, even though the thought twists my gut. "I'll escort her to the FBI, and they can get her to the WPP."
"Take her with you, tonight. I don't want her in the house longer than needed. Not with Josie here and pregnant. If someone else has tracked you and her here, I'll never forgive you for putting my family at risk. I've already arranged for a van with our cleaners to come by to take the body out of your trunk. You can't be driving around with that."
I arch a brow. We normally only call in our clean-up crew if a massive hit has taken place. More than three bodies kind of job. They're paid well to dispose of our bodies that we never want to be found as well. Having the equipment to dissolve a body completely within a day. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I've already contacted our friends at the power company. This neighborhood will lose power for ten minutes and knock out the streetlights. That should give you more than enough time to make the switch and no one will see it happen. The light pollution here isn't bad like it is in the city."
"When?" I look at the door she's behind.
"Half an hour. So have her be ready by then. Do you have a bag so that she can borrow a shirt from you or something?"
I shake my head. "It's currently under his body. I wasn't thinking that far ahead. As it is, I'm probably going to have to burn it."
Cason sighs. "I think she's too small for Josie's clothes, and I wouldn't even ask her if she could fit. She can have one of my shirts. Go tell her what's happening. The FBI will take you almost two hours to get to from here. That should give her enough time to get used to the idea. Maybe you can stop and get some of her stuff if it's on the way."
He heads up the stairs as Josie and Ensley laugh over something from the dining room. I don't know if they're just doing it to break the tension in the house or if Josie has honestly gotten used to the craziness that is our family. I guess it's for the best if she's used to it.
