“Who do you work for?” I ask.
I already suspect this guy isn’t just a pretender by the way he took my punch. He’s a professional. Not like the last couple I rounded up.
“Who do you think?” he asks.
I crack him across the face with another hard punch. I nearly topple him and the chair, but he manages to stay upright. “You’re going to kill me anyway. Why should I tell you anything?”
“Because there are all kinds of ways to die. And I can get real fucking creative if you piss me off.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head slowly. “The reward isn’t good enough for this shit.”
I turn, a little surprised at his change of heart. I listen intently, sensing that he’s about to finally tell me something I don’t know. “Reward?”
“Yeah. The price on Makayla Pierson’s head. Whoever clips her gets the money. That simple.”
“Who’s offering the money?”
“No idea. But whoever it was had enough influence to get the message trickling through most of the top military contractors. There are a ton of ex-military with their eye on the reward, but rumor also spread pretty fast that people who started tailing Makayla had a tendency to turn up dead. Still, it’s only a matter of time before someone hungry enough gets to her.”
I clench my fists. “Anything else?”
He sniffs, looking down sadly and shaking his head. “That’s pretty much it. Can you try not to fuck up my face when you kill me?” he asks.
I pull a knife from my hip and kneel in front of him. He watches the tip closely. I reach behind him and cut the ropes holding him in place. “Get the fuck out of here. If I see you within a mile of Makayla again, I’ll end you, and your face will look like a Mr. Potato toy by the time I’m done with it.”
He smirks. “Fair enough.”
I help him to stand and watch as he hobbles out of the building. It’s one of half a dozen properties I own around the city. They serve as safe houses and double as investments. Lately, they have been good locations to torture and dispose of the people who want to hurt Makayla.
I rub my lips slowly, trying to think of how I’m going to deal with this. They may have just been words, but I didn’t like that he said someone would get to her eventually. I realize it’s true. I can’t just keep picking off the runoff like this. I need to find a way to Liam, or this is never going to end. But I have a sinking feeling I’m not just dealing with one person. I think this whole mess might just be serving as a convenient cloak for the people who want to use it for their own gains. Liam is using it to lash out at me and someone else is using it as a way to order a hit on Makayla. Chances are the majority of the violence coming from the group is similar. Just fucked up people grasping at an opportunity to disguise their intentions.
What a clusterfuck.
I swore I wouldn’t hurt her again and look at the shit I’ve pulled. Edwards and Rosenthal may not seem like much, but they are at least the best protection I know of excluding myself. Still, I’m not letting her out of my sight. The only difference is now she doesn’t know I’m looking after her.
38
Makayla
“You have to go,” says Kennedy. She leans back in her loveseat, twirling a stray lock of her black hair.
Rosenthal looms near the doorway while Edwards helps himself to some sugar cookies from her pantry.
I sigh. “I know. I wasn’t really planning on ditching it. It’s just…”
“Scary?” asks Kennedy.
I realize she must think I don’t want to go to the red carpet event because I’m worried about being exposed in public and giving an open invitation to anyone who wants to hurt me. I shake my head, not wanting to keep my best friend in the dark. “I’m trying really hard to be over Jesse, but I just--” I laugh a little, shaking my head. “It’s stupid. I was worried I might run into him there, you know. These knuckleheads won’t tell me who he was reassigned to, but if he’s protecting a celebrity, chances are good he’ll be there. Screw it though. I need to get over it and just go.”
Kennedy gives me a sympathetic look but smiles. “You know, if you really want to move on, you should consider seeing someone else. Not that you were seeing Jesse, of course,” she adds with a mischievous little smile.
“Why do I have a feeling you have someone in mind?”
“Because you’re my bestie and you know me better than anyone!” sings Kennedy.
Rosenthal actually grimaces to be subjected to so much girl talk. Edwards doesn’t seem to notice. He’s found a small bag of candy and is making his way through it with enthusiasm.
“So,” says Kennedy. “I’m taking Patrick Lockheart.” She pauses, waiting for me to react.
I realize I’m supposed to recognize the name so I raise my eyebrows and do my best impressed gasp.
Kennedy doesn’t fall for it. “Seriously? You don’t know who he is?” She clicks her manicured fingers on her phone a few times and waits, turning the screen to show me a picture of a guy who looks a little too young, but is undeniably attractive. He has sandy hair with a strong, stubble-covered jaw and bedroom eyes. “He plays the lead for the Men of Mayhem? Not ringing any bells?”
“Sorry, no.”
“Well, he’s going with me and he is really bummed that his cousin couldn’t find someone to go with. You could take him. He’s really cute, and if Jesse happens to be there, I’m sure it would drive him nuts to see you hanging on some hunk’s arm. You can borrow my Jean Bernice dress! It’s a little slutty, but God you would look killer in it!”
Rosenthal clears his throat, suddenly looking very interested in the rug at his feet.
I smile a little. “I don’t even have any idea if he’ll be there, Kennedy. And even if he was, I don’t need to make him jealous. That would just prove I’m still thinking about him. Which I’m not.”
She gives me a skeptical look, narrowing her eyes. “Didn’t you just say--”
“Shut up,” I say, smirking.
I step on the red carpet with Hunter Smith, Patrick Lockheart’s cousin. I’m wearing Kennedy’s Jean Bernice dress and fighting the urge to pull at the fabric to cover more of my scandalously exposed breasts. It’s tight in all the right places and way more revealing than anything I would normally wear. I totally didn’t wear it because I want to make Jesse jealous. It was just easier than going through the trouble of getting my own dress and less embarrassing than sending one of my bodyguards to go rummage through my closet at the apartment to find it, since they still insist on keeping me at the safehouse. At least that’s what I keep telling myself to avoid feeling like the silly little girl I’m being.