Kane: An Assassin's Love Story (4 page)

Kane settled into a hardback chair he took from the writing desk, placing it near her bed. Near enough to touch her, in fact. He could reach out to hold her hand, or slip under the covers and cup her breasts. A groan almost escaped him, but he smothered it in time, forcing his back against the rigid seat, hoping the delicate design of swirls would gouge through his skin and put some sense into him.

He let the silence fill the room, and it lulled him into a near trance. Images of Danika’s body, spread across the bed, flashed through his mind, igniting his desire again. His cock swelled against the confines of his jeans, and the rough denim provided enough stimulation to be torturous, making him wish he had taken the time to add briefs before running to Danika’s rescue.

“Kane?”

Her soft voice made him blink, and for a moment, he saw the picture of her in his mind superimposed over her when he glanced down. He blinked again, struggling to dismiss the phantom Danika, who enticed him in a way he had never experienced before. “Yes?”

“Are you angry about what happened yesterday afternoon?”

Kane’s eyes widened. “No, of course not.” He shifted, discomforted by the topic. Part of him had hoped she would embrace the idea of forgetting it ever happened, while another part of him, just reawaking to emotion, couldn’t wait for her to initiate contact again. That unaccustomed side of him was trying to lead him into seducing the woman he had told himself he was only there to protect, and only because she reminded him of his sister.

“But you wish I hadn’t reached out to you?” Although phrased as a question, her resigned tone indicated she had already arrived at an answer.

“I didn’t say that.” What had he said? Nothing. As soon as he fled the dressing room, he had schooled his features to hide any trace of emotion and had maintained careful distance between them for the rest of the afternoon.

Her gaze was intense when it locked with his. “I don’t believe you. If you wanted me, you wouldn’t have withdrawn into yourself.”

A long sigh escaped him. Staring down at her, searching for an answer, Kane ran a hand through his short hair, disturbing the locks further. “Look, Danika, it isn’t you—“

A harsh laugh issued from her, holding little amusement. “That means it is me.”

He shook his head. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I’d be crazy not to want you. I’m just not accustomed to what I’m feeling.” Kane shook his head again, frustrated by his inability to articulate what he meant. “Usually, it’s just sex for me. One night, maybe two, and we part. I don’t feel things for the women I take to bed. Can you understand that?”

She nodded. Her expression was a perfect mask of coolness, but the moisture glinting in her eyes gave her away. “You don’t want me to expect anything, and since you work for me, you’re afraid I won’t be able to stop with one or two nights of sex and go back to a professional relationship.”

“That concerns me, but only because I don’t want to lose my objectivity. If I get too close to you, I can’t protect you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and Kane couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke her cheek. “And there’s no doubt in my mind I’d get very close, Danika. Closer than I’ve been to any woman in this kind of relationship, ever.”

Her lips trembled, and she swallowed before speaking. “It’s silly that your rejection makes me feel good. It’s been so long since a man…” Danika’s eyes closed, and she tilted her head away from him, so that only part of her features were revealed. “You must think I’m a terrible person, to be attracted to you just weeks after my husband’s death.”

He shook his head, but she didn’t see, with her eyes closed.

“Please don’t think less of me. I know how it would look for us to become involved, how everyone would judge me. Most already dismiss me as a gold digger, preying on a wealthy, older man.” She shook her head, rasping strands of silky, dark hair against the pillow where her head rested. “I’m sure no one would believe he was the one who set out to get me, not the other way around.” She brought a hand up to cup his, where it laid on her pillow, his fingertips barely touching her cheek. “Our marriage wasn’t the happy one he insisted we fool the public into thinking it was.”

“I think I knew that.” He squeezed her hand, his heart racing at the simple contact. It was more meaningful, and infinitely more personal, to hold her hand than it had been to hold her in his arms with the intention of making love. Echoes of emotions he had forced himself to discard ages ago rose like ghosts in his heart, nudging him back to a state he thought he had abandoned when starting on the path that had led him to his current career.

There was danger in this assignment, but the biggest threat didn’t come from someone stalking Danika. It was from the woman herself, who was dragging his dead heart back to life, much as he wanted to resist. It was comfortable feeling nothing, but he didn’t think she would allow him to languish in his self-imposed darkness much longer. Cracks of light were already appearing.

Anthony Peretti, known to a certain underclass of society as Tony, “the Hook,” ate lunch at the same Italian restaurant each day. Mario’s was probably one of the few legitimate businesses in his vast empire, but he had brought some notoriety to it by making it his afternoon hangout. Most customers remained unaware of who he was, but the few in the know who didn’t have business with the mobster tended to avoid the restaurant, especially when he was in occupation. The FBI agents, who watched the eatery in their discreet telephone and cable company vans that stuck out like a sore thumb to anyone knowing what to look for, generally wanted to apprehend the same persons as well.

Not enjoying Italian food, Kane rarely had reason to venture into Mario’s. Only when he had business with Anthony, and that was infrequent, at best, did he come into the kitschy restaurant, where the ambience of checkered tablecloths, wine bottle candleholders, and swags of grape leaves overwhelmed the senses. The mafia tended to use their own contractors for jobs, and Kane had always avoided having mob ties. In the beginning, it had limited the number of jobs he took on, but it had been a reasonable sacrifice. Working for the
cosa nostra
was too risky, even for someone who put his life on the line with each assignment.

It was only because he knew the man might have knowledge of whether Danika was someone’s target that he sought him out, on his sole afternoon off, save for Sundays. If it had been Sunday, he wouldn’t have found Anthony at the restaurant. Instead, he would have had to walk four blocks over to Le Claire Street, to St. Agnes, where the mobster spent one-seventh of his life trying to buy absolution for the other sixth-sevenths. Since Anthony wouldn’t have appreciated a conference at church, Kane was thankful he had another day free, without having to arrange for time off with Danika. He didn’t want her to know about this meeting unless he learned something important.

Anthony’s two henchmen, equally interchangeable down to their Club ties and Italian leather loafers, sat on his left and right, both consuming prodigious amounts of pasta, smothered with rich tomato sauce. Kane’s stomach turned just looking at one of the goons slurping up a long strand of spaghetti, leaving a smear of sauce on his chin.

Anthony looked up from a plate of fettuccine Alfredo, his small pig eyes—dark as night and adept at hiding each of his sins—narrowing when he caught sight of Kane. He nodded in greeting, indicating the free seat.

It was as close as he might come to a warm welcome, so Kane sat carefully, keeping his eyes on the henchmen, whose expertly cut jackets hid the pistols they no doubt had secured somewhere on their persons. He returned Anthony’s greeting, giving a deeper inclination of his head, knowing the man paid attention to little things like that, keeping track of who gave him the respect he thought he deserved. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Kane said, “Good afternoon.”

“What can I do for you, Winter?”

“I’m here to acquire information.”

He put down his fork, his eyes gleaming with interest. “What sort of information?”

“You know everything that goes on in this city. A man like you has to keep abreast.” Kane hated the need to pander to Anthony’s ego, but tap-danced through the routine, knowing it was expected.

“This is true. I have eyes all over the city.”

Kane cleared his throat in an attempt to push back the sarcastic words that wanted to escape. Something about this man annoyed him more than the rest of his type. Perhaps it was the pious exterior he exuded on Sundays and in the community, while using it to hide his true activities. He should have the balls to do what he did without needing justification or phony respect from so-called underlings. “Have you heard if there is a contract on Danika Rich, the widow of Senator Rich?”

Anthony shrugged. “What I have heard is you’ve defected, Winter. Is it true you’re now working the other side, protecting a target?”

“Yes.” Ignoring the curiosity in the other man’s eyes, refusing to explain the emotional metamorphosis he was undergoing, Kane said, “I can do my job better if I know there’s a definite threat.”

“Didn’t last night clear that up for you?”

So, there was someone after Danika. Judging by Anthony’s evasive answers and blatant distrust now that Kane was on the other side, he figured it would do no good to ask, but did so anyway. “Do you know who took out the contract?”

“They make a wonderful Alfredo sauce here, Winter. So rich and creamy. You should try it.” His eyes turned to slits, almost disappearing in his porcine face. “But you don’t like Italian, do you?”

He got the feeling Anthony was referring more to Kane’s refusal to accept jobs from him than his preference in food. He ignored the dig. “Can you tell me who accepted the contract?”

With a predatory grin, Anthony leaned forward, almost catching his tie in the plate of pasta. “Let’s just say, this person is skilled at what they do and loves Italian.”

“Fuck.” He said the word louder than intended, revealing a hint of the frustration boiling through him. What Anthony’s cryptic statement told him was the assassin worked for Anthony, or at least accepted an occasional assignment with gratitude, and they had been at it a long time. No more information would be forthcoming, so he got to his feet.

“Thanks.” For nothing, he added silently. The mobster’s revelation of little tidbits of information hadn’t done much to help Kane. All it had done was confirm Danika was in danger and add another worry to his list. If he took out someone affiliated with Anthony, he could expect retaliation ten-fold. That was the way of the
cosa nostra
and another of the many good reasons why he steered clear of the whole bunch.

With nothing left to do, Kane returned to the Rich residence hours before his shift was due to resume. As he walked up to the gated entrance, he frowned, finding it open. A delivery truck was in front of the main door, and the festive trees, Santa, and reindeer painted on the side did nothing to assuage his swell of alarm. He paused at the guardhouse to speak to the young woman at her post. “Who authorized the delivery?”

She looked at a clipboard before replying, having to tip back the bill of her black hat to read what the page contained. Kane had to restrain the impulse to rip the oversized hat from her head and point out how it obscured her vision. “Mrs. Rich. She ordered a Christmas tree.”

He nodded and continued on, deciding to go to the main house, rather than return to the guesthouse. He knew there were two guards patrolling the perimeter of the house, and Johnston was personally acting as Danika’s bodyguard, but none of the staff was competent enough to guard her. Kane had found them to be nothing more than a nuisance when he was executing the contract on Edmond, so he wasn’t about to entrust them with her safety. The assassin could make their move at any moment, as soon as an opportunity presented itself…like an impulsive delivery. The killer might use everyone’s distraction to sneak onto the estate.

The sound of talking drew him to the entertaining parlor, where he found two workers securing a massive nine-foot tree into a holder. The scent of fresh pine stirred memories of Christmases from his past, and he did his best to block out the aroma, instead shifting his attention to Danika, who was about to accept the pen the deliverywoman held out to her, to sign for the tree. A frown marred his features when he noticed Johnston wasn’t in the room as he was supposed to be. He hadn’t bothered to hide his contempt for Danika, but the bastard was supposed to be protecting her, regardless of how he felt about her personally. Kane resolved that Johnston had just performed his last act of disrespect. If Danika didn’t fire him, Kane would scare the other man so badly that he’d resign willingly, just to escape the bodily harm he was more than eager to inflict on the irresponsible jerk.

His eyes skimmed over the two men positioning the tree, before moving back to the woman standing beside Danika. His eyes narrowed when he focused on her uniform, noticing it was a darker brown than the one the other two wore. She also had a Santa hat shielding her eyes, while the men were bareheaded. Once again, he examined the men positioning the tree, this time seeing the tense way they held themselves and realizing it was taking them so long because the younger one was trembling. When his eyes met Kane’s, the fear in them was like a punch to the gut.

He hurried forward, pulling Danika away from the other woman before she had a chance to protest. The pen fell to the floor, and she made no move to pick it up. With a quick motion, he snatched the hat from her head, and his breath escaped in a harsh exhalation. “Sybelle.”

A long fall of red hair trailed down her back, and her green eyes flashed with anger. “Kane. I’d heard you were going straight.”

Without taking his eyes from Sybelle, he said, “Danika, call the police. Tell them someone is here to assassinate you, but she’s been detained.”

“Fat chance.” Sybelle’s laugh wasn’t pleasant. Rather, it jangled on his nerves. “It will take more than you to stop me, Kane.”

“Maybe so.” He wouldn’t underestimate Sybelle. No doubt, she was as much a hellcat out of bed as she was in. He had learned that for himself years ago. The passion had been intense, but burned out quickly for both of them, because she was as dedicated and emotionless as he was…or had been. “It’s not just me you have to get past though. In addition to the private bodyguard that is supposed to be in this room with Danika, there are four guards around the property, and Danika’s on the phone with the police, as you can hear. You have about three minutes to figure a way out.”

“I have it.” With the last word, she kicked Kane in the shin with her steel-toed boots. As he cried out at the unexpected pain, automatically stepping back, she dropped to the floor, ripping off one of her gloves with her teeth. He bit back the pain and reached for her, grabbing hold of the back of her brown coat just as her bare hand grasped the pen that had fallen to the floor.

He rolled her back to him, finding it easy, because she didn’t fight. Puzzled by her lack of resistance, he crouched beside her, touching her neck. There was no pulse, and her expression was slack. She was dead, but how? Seconds ago, she had been moving, lunging forward…reaching for the pen.

Kane touched her arm carefully, changing its position enough to see how she held the pen. She had her hand clenched around it, and all of her muscles had begun to freeze. She must have coated the barrel with some type of poison, anticipating Danika would take it from her when she signed for the tree. It had become her means of avoiding authorities, and he shook his head, disgusted by the zealousness that led her to kill herself. A chill touched his heart when he realized that could be him in a short time, if Danika hadn’t started to thaw his frozen heart. He might have become so cold and distant that his own death wouldn’t have mattered at all if he failed to complete an assignment. The prospect terrified him, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait to be alone with Danika. He had a lot to explain to her, owed her a debt he could never repay for taking her husband from her, but he prayed she could somehow look beyond what he had been to see the man he was becoming, because of her.

Danika sat on the Victorian-style sofa, her hands pressed between her knees, unable to stop the slight trembling that had developed in reaction to recent events. Even during the time the police had been at the house, she hadn’t been able to calm down completely, with thoughts of what had almost happened racing through her mind. Now that they had finally left, hours after removing the body of the woman who had tried to kill her, after endless circular conversations where they tried to catch her on minor inconsistencies, it was just a relief to have them gone.

Kane hovered near the doorway, the only other person in the sitting room besides her. He had maintained his aloof aura during the time the police were investigating, so it was a surprise to look up and find him staring at her with heat in his eyes. As he walked toward her, she held her breath, paralyzed by the way he moved, finding him a distraction even in the midst of everything that had happened that afternoon. Her eyes widened with shock when he knelt in front of her, taking her trembling hands between his. Immediately, she drew strength from his presence.

“Thank you for not revealing I knew Sybelle.”

She nodded, her stomach cramping with the unpleasant reminder that he had known her would-be assassin. “You didn’t seem to want the police to know, and I was the only one who heard you call her by name.”

Kane tightened his grasp on her hands. “You’re perceptive. My history with her could bring up some awkward questions.”

Danika inclined her chin, taking on a challenging tone. “Such as?”

“How I know her, considering her line of work.”

“How do you know her?” She held her breath, praying for anything but the most obvious explanation, that they had been involved, to issue from him.

He sighed, and his shoulders slumped forward slightly. “We were lovers for a brief time several years ago.”

The dart of jealousy seemed to have the aim of ripping out her heart. It was doing a good job, judging from the pain filling her chest cavity. “I see. Did you end things when you realized she killed people?”

A brief shake of his head dispelled that notion. “I knew before.”

She swallowed the ball in her throat. “It didn’t bother you?”

After a hesitation, Kane shook his head again. “I have to tell you something, Danika, but I need to know something else first.”