Mine (21 page)

I chuckled. “That makes no sense.”

He shrugged and told me to get the hell out of his house. I went to kiss his wife goodbye before his driver took me home.

I felt good by the time I walked into my apartment and my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Trevan?”

The sniffle I got made me wary because I already knew her voice. “Jocelyn?”

“Oh God,” she moaned.

That fast, my heart was in my throat. I had been so consumed with Gabriel all day, with my new place in the hierarchy, with what I would have to give up and with what I would reap, that I had forgotten about my boy and the fact that I never got a call from him when he got up that morning. It seemed small—he was with his family, he was safe—but now Jocelyn was crying.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ohmygod, Trevan, he’s gone.”

“Who’s gone? Landry’s gone?”

“Yes.”

“Gone how?”

“Taken. Kidnapped. We’re waiting to hear about a ransom, but it’s been hours and—ohmygod!”

“I’ll be right there,” I said and hung up.

I called Conrad because I was certain he’d know what to do. I apologized for not calling when I got home, wanting to explain everything to him, and asked him to meet me in Vegas.

“No,” he told me. “I’m coming. I’ll pick you up. Wait for me.”

“I gotta go to the airport and get a ticket and––”

“Just stay there, I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

I waited and paced and called Jocelyn back and asked her to tell me everything from the beginning, very slowly since I was not absorbing words as easily as I normally did. It was hard to retain facts when you were no longer breathing.

Chapter 9

I
SAT
in first class the next morning nearly climbing out of my skin. The only thing that kept me grounded at all was Conrad’s presence beside me. Of course, after the first hour, I attacked him because he was geographically accessible.

“Why do you care?” I asked him, wanting the fight, picking it.

His head rolled sideways so he could see me.

“I’ve never done anything for you.”

The look in his eyes was hard to read.

“You don’t wanna talk?”

Still nothing, just the stare from his lime-and-gold cat eyes.

“Fine, forget it,” I said, turning away, looking out the window at the black night sky.

“Look at me.”

My head snapped back, my eyes returning to his face.

“Friendship means shit to you?”

“Of course not.”

“But that’s what you’re saying.”

“No,” I told him. “I just—”

“Everyone wants something,” he said softly, leaning closer to me, “except my friends. I have very few, and you’re one of them.”

“Con—”

“You never expect anything without paying. You never ask for favors, you never take us, this, me and you, for granted. Do you know what that makes you?”

I shook my head.

“It makes you one of ten people in the world who give a crap if I live or die.”

His eyes, with the flecks of gold in them, were really the most extraordinary color.

“And then there was Andrade’s.”

I took a deep breath. “That was nothing, and you always bring it up like it was.”

He shrugged. “Because it wasn’t nothing; it was a helluva lot more than that.”

But for me it had never been the extraordinary happening that he thought it was.

I
T
HAD
been a routine collection. Walking into Tajo Andrade’s club to pick up the money he owed me, we had no idea that we were interrupting a robbery. When we walked down the stairs into the main room, the man turned and, with him, the shotgun he was holding. I didn’t even think. I stepped in front of Conrad on instinct, shielding him with my body. Our diversion allowed Tajo the moment he needed to pull his Glock and drop the robber with a shot to the head. The second guy took a bullet from Conrad’s gun, the silencer muffling the sound only a little. In the aftermath, as Tajo passed me an envelope and thanked me for being punctual, then ordered his guys to get rid of the bodies, Conrad turned me around and looked at me like he’d never seen me before.

“You okay?” I asked him.

And he nodded slowly, his eyes staring holes into me.

“I
T
WAS
no big deal,” I told him, back in the present, for what felt like the hundredth time. I patted his thigh before I let my head fall back against the seat. “Any of your friends would have done it.”

“That’s what you’re missing,” he told me. “There aren’t too many of you.”

But I refused to believe that; the man was much too constant not to be beloved by many.

“So you have a new job, huh?” he asked me.

He was trying to divert my mind, keep me from shattering into a million pieces. “Yeah.”

“And who’s gonna watch your back?”

“I was gonna ask you, but maybe there’s not enough money in it, huh? Gabe doesn’t think there is.”

“I have enough money.”

“I can pay you something, just not whatever you get for taking out drug lords in third world countries.”

His laugh was throaty and low. “Whatever is fine. If I need more, I’ll take a contract and kill a dictator.”

“Yeah?” I croaked out, my voice succumbing to the emotion twisting through me.

“Of course,” he assured me. “Tell them all that I’m your shadow.”

“Please, they think you are now. It’s why Kady didn’t fuck with me—too scared.”

His sinister smile, the one that reminded you that he was lethal, was there, curling his lip. “Good.”

“Ask you a question?”

“’Course.”

“That day I met you, what were you doing there?”

“I was supposed to take Hawkins that day.”

“No shit?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat.

“And you didn’t?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“You were more interesting.”

I sighed. “You didn’t get in trouble?”

“I don’t get in trouble.”

“But people pay you. Don’t they want a refund?”

The long exasperated sigh let me know that I was annoying.

“Tell me how it works.”

“No.”

“Is Hawkins still alive?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Really?”

“Come on,” I pleaded.

He turned his head to me. “Money gets wired, and I either make the transfer when I finish the job or I don’t.”

“Oh.” That answered one question. “And Hawkins?”

“Someone else did that.”

“Okay.”

We were silent.

“We will get Landry back,” he promised me.

I pushed air through my lungs. “How do you know?”

“I just do.”

I tried to let his certainty comfort me.

“What are you thinking?”

“That none of this makes any sense, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why Landry?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

I looked back out the window, unable to talk anymore.

When we landed at McCarran International, I texted Gabriel to tell him I had landed fine and that I would give him an update as soon as I knew anything. I had called him the night before after Conrad picked me up and explained what had happened. He was furious for me and made me promise to let him know if I needed anything at all.

“Thanks Gabe,” I had replied softly.

“You’ll get him back Trev,” he promised me. “Make sure you call me.”

“I will,” I sighed and hung up.

After Conrad and I separated, me to duck into the bathroom and him to go get a rental car, I went to wait for him on the curb outside in front of arrivals. Ten minutes later, he rolled up to collect me.

“That’s amazing,” I told him as I opened the back door and threw my duffel in.

“What is?” he asked when I got in the passenger seat and buckled in.

“I’ve never gotten a car that fast.”

He squinted at me. “You reserve it online, they come pick you up, take you to the rental car place, you sign, they give you keys, and you drive away. What’s to wait for?”

“You must be, like, a gold member or something.”

“Try platinum.”

“I guess you rent a lot of cars, huh?”

“Contract killer, comes with the job.”

“You don’t say hitman?”

“We don’t say contract killer either. For fuck’s sake, Trev.”

“I’ve never, you know,” I said, looking at his profile, the dark aviator glasses, the chiseled features, his dark smooth skin, “told anyone what you do.”

“I know that,” he said, checking the rearview mirror, distracted.

“Just so we’re clear.”

“We’re clear,” he murmured, but he wasn’t really paying attention to me.

“What’re you doing?”

“Is your seatbelt on?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I looked at him again—his black leather jacket, the cashmere turtleneck underneath, the scarf the same color—and thought that he looked like he was ready to go sightseeing or something.

“Do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Reach under the seat and pass me the gun.”

“You just rented this car and there’s a gun under the seat?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“That’s not that big a deal right now. Could you get the gun?”

When the handgun with the silencer was in my grip, I straightened up. At the same moment, he began to slow. Another car flew by us, several others having passed, but when this one did, we were suddenly in pursuit. He had the Lexus up over ninety before the car in front of us missed a turn, skidded, slid, and hit the concrete barrier. When the car stopped, we did too, in the middle of the freeway, and got onto the median. He reversed fast before spinning around and driving the wrong way back to the car. It was early, so we were mostly alone, but still there were lots of blaring horns before we stopped.

I reached for my door as Conrad threw his open and grabbed the gun from me.

“Do not get out!” he barked at me even as he did.

“I—”

“Do not get out!” he roared a second time, standing outside the car before sprinting toward the other.

I couldn’t see—not from my angle or the other car’s—and I wanted to go, but the man had given me a direct order, and it was more about trust than anything else. Did I trust him enough to stay put?

When I saw him loping back, I turned and waited for him.

He got in, shoved the gun at me, threw the car into drive, and peeled out, fishtailing back onto the freeway as we drove away.

“Jesus Christ, Conrad, what the fuck?”

“There should be a holster under your seat. Can you get that for me?”

“Conrad!”

He growled at me. “Okay, so those guys were supposed to kill us.”

“Kill us?”

“Well, you. I wasn’t on the menu since no one knew I was coming.”

“Are you kidding? What the hell is going on?”

“Someone is really sloppy, because this plan is bad.”

“What…? This doesn’t make any sense,” I said, leaning over, reaching for the holster, feeling around until I found it, pulling it out and showing it to him.

“Unscrew the silencer, holster the gun, and then pass me the silencer and then the gun.”

It was hot. I turned to him. “You fired the gun?”

“Of course. You don’t let people live who are trying to kill you. That’s, like, the number one rule of survival.”

“But we could have turned them over to the police. Maybe they could have led us to Landry.” My voice quavered.

“They had no idea where Landry is; all they were supposed to do was keep you from making it to the house. Period.”

I took a breath. “They weren’t very good.”

“No,” he agreed. “Which tells me a lot.”

“It does?”

He nodded. “This, combined with your earlier point that none of this makes any fuckin’ sense, because why?”

“I dunno, why?”

“Landry’s been gone—what’d you tell me when we were talking about this a while back— like, nine years?”

“Eight years.”

“Okay, so eight years he’s been out of the picture, and the second he’s back he’s a ransom target? Yeah? Does that make any sense?”

No. None at all.

“Think, Trevan. What could it be?”

“I don’t wanna learn anything here, Connie; just fuckin’ tell me what you think.”

“Well, logically, it can only be family bullshit or friend bullshit. Whoever took Landry knows him or knows of him. There’s no way someone waited all this time. This has crime of opportunity written all over it.”

“How do you know?”

“Like I said, nothing else makes sense, and those idiots back there, they were guys that somebody knows and asked for a favor or threw money at.”

“And you killed them.”

“Yes, I did, because
a
, that’s what I do, and
b
, they were trying to kill you. You stay safe because people know if they come for you, they die. If people ever find out that someone tried to kill you and lived through it—that’s my reputation.”

“You would kill people for your reputation.”

“It’s my name, Trevan. You don’t know. My name is all I have.”

“No one would have known if you let them go.”

“I would have known, and believe me, those assholes would have talked. People know that I’m your shadow; all they have to say is, ‘We tried to kill Trevan Bean and lived.’” He shook his head. “There’s no way.”