Page 12 of The Ghost Assassin

“You’re easy to kill if you double-cross me.” I’m not serious. Mostly. But she thinks I am.

She gapes and is speechless, thank fuck.

I offer her my back, continuing on my path while I leave her to get to work.

The stakes are too high now for standing around, and if it takes one fear to counter another fear, so be it. Our enemies are like sharks nipping at our feet, and everywhere we walk is swampland. I never thought I’d say this, but if we can’t outsmart our enemies, we might just have to learn from Kane’s father and kill them. It’s simply the reality in which we now live. Kill or be killed.

Once I’m in the office it’s more of the same. The shelves are empty. The side desk drawers are empty. But when I open the center drawer, there’s a business card lying there that has my brows dipping. It’s the diner where I buy my strawberry pie in the Hamptons.

If it was among other things, I’d think it was perhaps meaningless. Murphy had spent time in the Hamptons even back when my mother was alive. I’ve come to realize that little diner is famous, and I’m not the only one who loves the pie.

But this diner card is here and nothing else is, and it’s connected to me, which feels significant.

Murphy left this for me. It’s a message and now I have to figure out what the fuck this is supposed to mean.

Chapter Eight

I exit the office, and DD is kneeling next to the body.

She pops to her feet the minute she spots me “There isn’t much for me to do here and frankly, I feel uncomfortable.”

“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You are an ME, and a dead body is making you uncomfortable?”

She nods. “This one is.”

My patience level for DD and her fear is zero. I motion to Jay. “She’s made for you. You’re both scared.” I refocus on DD. “If a dead body is making you uncomfortable, you need to go back to modeling. You’ll get the kind of freaks there that breathe heavy rather than not at all.” I point at Jay. “Walk her home. She clearly can’t be alone and needs her hand held.” I head for the door.

“Agent Love!” DD shouts at my back at the same time, Jay calls out, “No, Lilah.”

I ignore them both and exit the apartment to find Kit waiting on me, while the tall, thin Homeland Security agent—I think he called himself Tom—looks deliciously awkward. Kit’s really good at saying nothing and still managing to give you the feeling he’s about to kill you. He really has grown on me. But right now, I have the odd reality of knots in my belly, as my eyes meet his with a silent question. Has he heard from Kane, or anyone, for that matter?

He gives a shake of his head that cuts through me. What if his uncle was ready for him? What if he turned the tables on Kane and Kane’s dead right now? I’ll kill him.

“We’re going to find him.” I start walking.

Kit falls into step with me. “We can’t do that, Lilah.”

Jay steps to my side and I whirl toward him. “Get your ass back to DD and keep her alive. That’s an order.”

“Kane—”

“I don’t suggest you finish that sentence, or I swear to God, I’ll pull my gun on you and shoot you in the damn foot. And that’s because I like you. You wouldn’t be having children when I’m done with you if I hated you.”

The Homeland guy is behind us, and I turn to face him. “Agent Tom, or whatever your name is—”

“Taylor.”

“Taylor, Tomato, you’re both Homeland Security, and frankly, I don’t trust you any more than anyone in the FBI right now. Most people do not find stepping into my personal space to be a smart decision. Unfortunately for some, they find this out by doing exactly that.”

He steps back and holds up his hands. “Apologies. Director Ellis—”

“We’ve been through this. What did I tell you Director Ellis could go and do?”

“Fuck himself, which I relayed. His reply was that he’d rather fuck someone else. He’d like it if you’d accept his invitation to help him do something.”

“Something? That’s creepy. Tell him to keep his sex life to himself. Also, if he’s stupid and needs assistance, he shouldn’t have accepted his job.” I turn away from him, glaring at Jay, and point down the hallway.

His face is pulled tight, his fists balled at his sides, but he’s not arguing.

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