“Do you have a picture of the bastard’s face yet?” Molina tossed his body into his chair and then winced at the nasty pain. He was hard, but then being around her always made him hard. The thought of all that innocence for the taking had his fists clenching.
“No, I haven’t. It’s a little worrisome. It’s like the bastard knows what he’s doing.” Malcolm laid a folder in front of him. He opened it and pulled out four photographs. Not a single one of them had a good shot of Donnelly’s face. He was tall and well built, with broad shoulders and arms that looked like they had seen the inside of a gym on a regular basis. “He always wears a baseball cap and tends to keep his head down. He makes sure she walks on the inside. Do you see how he always takes the street side?”
Polite asshole. Unfortunately, he also always seemed to be looking Avery’s way so most of the shots were of the side of his head. Avery, on the other hand, was in almost every shot, her face shining up. She held on to her new boyfriend, her eyes constantly looking at him. She looked happy where she always looked so lost and sad before.
He realized in that moment it was her misery that attracted him. She fought so valiantly against it. It was interesting to watch her flail and fight and pretend that her life was all right.
She’d been so brave, and he wondered what could make her cower in fear.
He wanted to be the one who finally broke her. And he wouldn’t let this nasty fuck change that.
“Take him out.”
“Boss, he moves quite well for a civilian.” Malcolm frowned. On him it was practically a cry for help.
“MI6? He can’t be CIA. Nelson ran the trace on him,” Molina argued.
“And there was nothing in his background that made Nelson worry. But I look at him and I think he’s dangerous.” Malcolm sat back, his eyes on the pictures. “I’ve also had the feeling I’m being followed. I can’t catch the bastard, though. I don’t like it.”
Molina sighed. Malcolm was being a worried old woman. “We’ve known since two weeks after we hired Weston that MI6 was watching. It’s not news. They’re desperate. They know they don’t have a thing on us, and time is running out. They’re just trying to justify their continued existence. They won’t find anything. I have the files and they’re in code.”
“Codes can be broken.”
“Surely they can. Especially when they look like codes.” He was getting too old to argue. “I want Donnelly dead.”
Malcolm’s eyes held his for a brief moment before he assented. “All right, but I should remind you that you had a plan concerning Avery Charles and it would be smart to follow it.”
“I don’t like the fact that she’s fucking him.” It rankled. She was supposed to be waiting. He’d isolated her so she didn’t have any friends, and she’d still found someone to fuck.
“She wasn’t a virgin.”
But he was sure she hadn’t had sex since her boy husband had died. She would be tight. So fucking tight. He could tear her up. He could make her plead and still he would shove his way in. He would spread her wide and fuck her until she bled. That would be a form of virginity. “I wasn’t asking your opinion.”
“It’s my job to make sure this deal runs smoothly, sir, and Avery Charles crying rape to Scotland Yard would be a problem. Wait until we get her safely in the Middle East, and we can deal with her. The house in Dubai is ready, and I have a phalanx of armed guards who will ensure she can’t leave. You can have your business, and you can keep her for as long as she entertains you. You’ve worked very hard, sir. Don’t screw it up now.”
“I want his head.”
“That could prove troublesome. Heads are heavy. How about I cut off his dick? So much easier to transport on the Tube.” Malcolm didn’t crack a smile.
“I don’t give a shit. I want him dead. Make it hurt.” He sighed. He really didn’t have time for this crap. “Just kill him. Don’t do it in her flat. Make it look like a random act. I don’t want her thinking this had anything to do with her. Not now.”
He would let her know later, when the time was right and she couldn’t get away. Avery was the woman he’d waited for. The one he’d sacrificed for. The one who made everything worthwhile. He’d killed plenty of bitches, but they hadn’t served his soul the way he thought Avery would.
“I can handle this for you.”
After he had the Lachlan Bates deal done, he could head to Dubai and then on to someplace even more isolated and live like a king. He would still travel, but his home base would be safe. Avery would be safe.
All he had to do was get through the next few weeks and make sure that shipment went out. Which meant he needed to find a way to get the cost of that goddamn wheat down or he needed to find a new donor because he wasn’t going to bear that cost himself.
He had to pay for too many assassinations anyway. Malcolm didn’t murder people for free, which was actually a minus against his continued employment.