Be sad, but be productive.
Wiping the back of my hand across my cheek, I’m reminded I was hit in the face recently and wince.
Okay, tears can stay.
I turn back to the door I was pushed through and try the handle.
It doesn’t budge.
I didn’t think it would, but I had to try.
Trying to focus, I cut straight across the room and look out the windows. The landscape beyond is beautiful and harsh, with sand-covered hills and prickly desert plants.
I try to open the window, but there’s no latch. They don’t open.
When I press my face to the glass and look down, I can see nothing but sharp rocks two stories below me. And since I won’t be able to get away on broken legs, I don’t bother trying to break the glass.
With one last place to look, I walk through the sitting area to the other door in the room.
It’s partially open, with darkness on the other side, and if it’s not a bathroom, then I hope it’s a secret tunnel out of here.
I press the door open. Not a tunnel.
Stepping into the bathroom, I shut and lock the door behind me, then turn on the faucet and cup my hands under the water.
I swish the mouthful around and spit it out. Then I fill my hands again and gulp down the cold water.
CHAPTER 111
Hans
We’re ten minutes from the target, and I’m in one of the back seats, sitting between Nero and Karmine.
It’s quiet, with everyone doing a final check of their gear.
And we have gear.
Cain pulled through. He’ll still charge me for everything, but nonetheless, he pulled through.
I tighten the leg holster over my bandaged leg.
A glint of light draws my attention to Nero.
He slips his fingers through the carved metal and… I narrow my eyes.
Does this guy seriously have a set of diamond-encrusted brass knuckles?
I look away.
I don’t have time to question Nero’s weapon choices.
All my focus has to be somewhere else.
On someone else.
I touch my hand to the gun at my hip, then to my throwing knives, then to the extra clips and blades secured to my bulletproof vest.
Eight minutes.
We all have our assignments.
Karmine’s team will sweep the house, looking for anyone held against their will. The team with King will secure the perimeter before moving in. And everyone else is with me and Nero. But they all know that I get Gabriel Marcoux.
I get to kill him.
Seven minutes.
I set my hand on my final weapon.
I can’t sit in a vehicle with it on my back, so it has to wait until we arrive.
Six minutes.
CHAPTER 112
Cassie
With my socks in my pocket, I step out of the bathroom barefoot and back into the empty office. I won’t let slippery feet slow me down again.
After digging through every cabinet, I found a small thing of unopened mouthwash and used it three times. Then, because I’m a nervous pee-er, I used the toilet as quickly as possible. It freaked me out thinking someone with a key could walk right in. But I didn’t really want to add peeing myself to the list of terrible things that happened today.
I also pulled my ponytail free and pressed my damp hands against my scalp to try and calm some of the lingering pain before loosely putting my hair back up.
I’m standing on the threshold of the room, wondering what I can use to smash the mirror in the bathroom, when I hear the click of the main door unlocking.
Before I have time to decide whether I should hide in the bathroom or rush the door, it swings open.
Evil Andre steps in first, followed by an older guy.
The new guy gives off a super creepy vibe, and based on his three-piece suit, which is over the top for anything less than a wedding, I’d bet he’s the owner of this awful house.
Andre shuts the door after them and then stands against it as a human blockade.
The suit, who looks like someone’s sleazy uncle, stops a few feet away from me.
Too far for me to kick him.
“I’m Gabriel Marcoux.”
But he is close enough for me to spit on.
So I do.
Andre steps away from the door like he’s going to punish me for spitting on his boss, but Gabriel lifts a hand to stop him.
Andre obeys.
Gabriel pulls the fancy satin square out of his suit pocket and wipes at his chest. He’s trying to look unaffected. But he’s not good at it.
Sadly, none of my spit got on his face, but the message was received.
“You’re the neighbor, aren’t you?” He tosses the soiled kerchief to the floor. “And yet you’re dressed like a member of that whore’s little army.”
“Pretty sure her profession is killing bastards like you, not whoring. But if you want to be a total fucking hypocrite and talk down about sex workers, go ahead.”
He lifts a brow. “Hypocrite?”
“I have to explain it…” I shake my head.
I know I shouldn’t goad him. But he’s freaking me out. So it’s sass or hiding in the corner, and something tells me I should be buying time.
I squeeze my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching up and touching my tracker.
“If you know me so well, Cassandra Lynn Cantrell.” He spreads his arms in a do tell gesture.
I ignore him using my full name. “I know your interior designer sucks. And I know Hans is going to kill you.”
Gabriel narrows his eyes. “My mother furnished this house.”
“Sorry, but I’m pretty sure your mother hates you.”
His jaw flexes. “You’re acting like a child.”
I cross my arms instead of responding.
“And the idea of Hans rescuing you with the help of his little harem is just as juvenile.” He scoffs. “It’s a suicide mission I’ll welcome with open arms.”
I don’t miss the way he’s always belittling women. This man hates females. Which tracks with him being the worst. And it means he’ll never be afraid of Karmine’s army. Even if he should be.
But a man like this, one who preys on those weaker than him, I bet I know what he is afraid of.
I bet he’s afraid of Hans.
Afraid of ever finding himself one-on-one with the killer.
And right now Gabriel feels safe in this marbled prison.
He feels comfortable.
And I just can’t allow that to continue.
My lips pull into a smirk. “Hans isn’t with the women.”
I suspect he’s called Karmine for help by now, but that’s not important for this conversation.
“So he’s coming alone?” Gabriel mocks. “Even better.”
I shake my head. “Not alone.”
He starts to sneer, but I don’t flinch. And I can see the moment he realizes I might be telling the truth.
Hans has always been alone.
Since the man in front of me ruined his life twenty years ago, Hans has been alone.
He’s fought alone.
He’s killed alone.
He’s eaten his meals alone.
Spent his holidays alone.
My heart squeezes so hard for him.
For what he lost.
For what I can give him.
“What is she talking about?” Gabriel turns to Andre, whose face has gone pale.