She forced herself not to kick upward, to hold perfectly still. “Finish what, Matthew? What is there to finish?”
“You didn’t think I was going to spend the rest of my life bombing small-time refineries and electrical grids, did you? Tonight was just the beginning.” He pushed her up against the wall, kissed her hard, one hand holding her head still. He slid a leg between hers.
She said into his mouth, “Come on, Matthew, what are you planning? Tell me, so I can find the best way to help you.”
He was kissing her face now, light feathering kisses. “Everything’s in motion; Darius and I have planned out every move. You are helping me, Vanessa. All the way, baby. You and me, all the way.” He kissed her hard again, whispering into her mouth, “Now it’s time for us.”
Why? Because Darius isn’t hanging around watching you? She forced herself to kiss him back, let her hand slip inside his jeans as she whispered into his mouth, “Tell me now, Matthew. I want to know. Tell me.”
He raised his head, his smile dazed, rubbed his fingers over her mouth, said between kisses, “You want to know what’s next? We’re going right to the top, Vanessa. No, wait, I’ll fill you in on all of it later. You won’t believe who we’re going to kill—”
There was a loud ding from the phone wedged into the soap. The text had gone through.
13
QUEEN TAKES C4
Hodges’s house
Bayonne, New Jersey
Mike didn’t want to believe what she saw.
Two agents were down at the kitchen table, a poker game spread between them, and now the cards were sprayed with blood. The third agent lay on his side in the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
She didn’t want to go in the master bedroom, she didn’t, but she had no choice. Richard “Dicker” Hodges lay in the middle of the bed, a beautiful plaid flannel blanket covering him, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead, another to the chest. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling.
Everything screamed surprise attack. Whoever had gotten in was quick, clean, leaving four dead, each taken down with only two shots. They hadn’t seen any brass on the floor.
Nicholas said, his voice cold as ice, “The work of a professional.”
Mike turned to him, saw the pulse slamming madly in his throat, felt the fury radiating off him. Since she felt the same mad brew, she didn’t bother to say anything.
She studied Mr. Hodges’s peaceful face. “Whoever did this knew what he was doing. As you said, this was a professional hit.”
“Have you ever seen anything similar? All four men shot once in the forehead, once in the heart?”
She looked up at the odd note in his voice.
“Executions, you mean? Yes, some Mob hits. But, Nicholas, this feels, well, cleaner. More precise. No one struggled. He shot them where they sat or stood or lay, and they didn’t even raise a hand to stop him. And the method, two fast shots? Yes, very clean.”
Nicholas said, “All Hodges did was speak to us, yet it was enough to send this killer over here to punish him, to erase him, and anyone with him.”
“To tie up loose ends.”
They left Mr. Hodges and walked back into the hallway to stand over the dead agent. Nicholas said, “What was his name?
She choked a little on the name. “Cedarson. Rex Cedarson.”
“He was in the bedroom watching over Mr. Hodges, heard the shots, or heard something that alarmed him, since the assassin may have used a suppressor, and was moving toward the kitchen when he was shot. At least he had time to get his gun out.”