The Hitman's Baby - A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (With extra added bonus novel for a short time only!) (15 page)

The place was getting crowded. Cassandra tried to look… comfortable, or something like it as she was paraded before the cartel leaders as they arrived. She recognized only a few of them, but all of them recognized her.

Senor Moreno in particular was especially pleased to see her. “You are the picture of your mother,” he said in slow, stilted Spanish. He had to be ancient by now. He was attended by his grandson, who had been one of the young men Papa had hoped she would marry. “I am so very glad to see you in your rightful place. Senor Miles is treating you well, I trust.”

Cassandra forced a smile. “He is. Thank you for your warm welcome and your concern.” Inside, she was screaming at him. This man is an impostor, she wanted to tell Senor Moreno, he is not my father, he’s nothing but smoke and mirrors!

But, Lester had made it clear. She was only useful to him as long as she helped him secure his power base and earn the respect of the other cartels.

Senor Moreno bobbed his ancient head and let his grandson, who gave Cassandra a long, lustful examination, lead him away to the growing population of his peers and fellow drug lords. Cassandra ignored the younger man, staring into nothingness for a moment to invite the numbness back in.

Ramon wasn’t with her. He rarely was. Lester gave them just enough time together that Ramon wasn’t too upset about being apart, but not enough that Cassandra might have designs on escaping. Not that she could have. He knew about the secret route she’d used as a child, and she didn’t know any others.

And even if she could get away—then what? She’d only eluded him before thanks to Nick and Nick was…

Numb. Let the numbness in. Don’t feel anything.

There was no point. So she sat prettily in her fine blue gown, her hair done up and waxed so that it was like some beautiful black flower—Lester had spent a fortune to get it done just right—beset by crimson roses from the gardens that had been sprayed and glittered and mounted on her like hunter’s trophies. Her face was painted. She felt like a whore, and looked the part. Her father would never have allowed her to wear a dress cut this low under his roof, and let the men of his organization leer at her like this.

But Lester was not her father. He was little better than a pimp. This whole affair was as much to prove his lordship over Cassandra as it was to assure everyone that he had her good faith. After all; he’d rescued her from obscurity and delivered her home.

The story was, Cassandra learned, an intricate one. Lester had taken over for Emilio Gonzales, a few years after his death, in order to attempt to bring some stability back to Colombia’s underworld. No one, of course, knew that he had been the one to orchestrate Emilio’s death.

He’d let word of her impending assassination get out, and assured the cartel lords that he was not going to allow that to happen. He sent his own man to stop it, and bring the Gonzales scions home safely.

“But there was a possible hitch,” Lester had explained to her while she dressed in front of him, after her team of cosmeticians departed. “Nick Graves. The bleeding heart. If he got wind that I’d found you and brought you home, I anticipated his involvement. So, rather than worry about that—I send your contract to his agency. It was a gamble. But I know how that boy ticks, you see? He wouldn’t leave a gem like you to chance. Oh no. Sure enough, he ended up being the one to take the job.

“The plan was to cut him out of the picture as part of the first phase. My man was supposed to put Nick down after you two saw one another but before you spoke. Make it look like he’d returned to finish the job.” Lester sighed, and shrugged. “Ah well. The measure of a man is not whether he makes mistakes, but how he handles the mistakes he makes. It hardly matters now, does it?” He smiled at her, as though he’d told her a funny story.

Cassandra’s face was blank. Her dress didn’t have a cheap zipper—it had sashes that threaded through loops that she couldn’t have managed herself. “I need someone—someone else—to help me with my dress.”

“I’m the only set of hands nearby,” Lester told her.

She rolled her eyes, but turned away from him.

As he tugged the closure tight and tied the sash, he leaned toward her. She could feel the heat from his body on her bare shoulders, and briefly felt his breath on her neck before she felt a tug around her waist when he finished the knot. She jerked away from him. “I’m not going to pretend to be your doll in private,” she said.

Lester pursed his lips and then waved a hand. “I suppose I don’t particularly care. But don’t forget to smile out there, darling. There’s a lot at stake.” His voice grew serious, even cruel. “And if you fuck this up, Ramon will pay a heavy price on your behalf before I vacate this shit hole. Am I clear?”

She didn’t have to answer him. He knew already.

So she sat, and smiled, and was gracious. And it was easier when she made herself dead inside.

“You seem to be making an impression,” Lester said behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Her skin crawled where he touched her. “It’s nice to see so many familiar faces,” she said pleasantly. “It’s good to be home.”

“I am beyond pleased, my dear.” He came around the chair she was in and glanced at her untouched glass of wine. “It would be prudent to enjoy the festivity of the occasion.”

“If I drink,” she said, smiling through it as she waved to one of the guests, “there’s every chance I’ll slip up and say something inconvenient.”

Lester frowned down at her, but didn’t press the issue. He looked over his shoulder. “Well. I should get back to it. Ramon will be with us at dinner. That will be nice, hm?”

Cassandra considered that if he was going to speak to her like a child, she might well throw a tantrum like one. Wonder what the cartel lords would think about that, hm?

“If you think parading me around in front of them is going to change anything for you,” she said quietly, “you’re mistaken. That room is a den of poisonous snakes, Lester.” She said his name with all the venom she could muster. “Now that we’re home, what makes you think they won’t bite?”

Lester only smiled. “Oh… I appreciate your concern, my dear. But I believe I have that well in hand.”

Cassandra watched him as he left her and waded into the assembled crowd. He had something planned, then. She just wished she knew what it was so she could see him stumble and fall into the pit.

If Nick were here, maybe she would even survive it.

“What are you writing?” Alex asked over Nick’s shoulder.

It was sixty minutes to go time. The gathered cartel leaders were at the Gonzales estate. At first, he’d been uncertain about picking the event to do it, but Alex had talked him around. Yes, there was more security, but that security had a specific task—to protect their gathered bosses. Most of them would be busy getting their charges to safety. Plus, a public execution and airing of the truth about what Lester had done would win them points with the cartels.

At least, they hoped.

Nick signed the bottom of the report. “It’s Lester’s job completion report. Stupid, I know, but I need to focus my mind and somehow… this seemed like the right way to do it.”

She took the paper from him, and read it over. “I know you can write a better report than this,” she said.

Nick smiled. Alex preferred detailed reports; she wanted to analyze every step, look for possible security concerns. “Lester never cared for details,” Nick said. “I guess he figured he was untouchable anyway, so, all that mattered to him was that the job was done.”

“Well,” Alex said, handing him the paper back, “pride goeth before the… bullet between the eyes.”

“Yeah,” Nick said. He folded the paper up, and tucked it under his ballistic vest. “I’m hoping it’ll be more personal than that, but I’m not picky.”

“You… don’t strike me as the nervous sort.” Alex sat crawled down from inside the operations van and sat on the edge of the bed with him. “But you seem nervous.”

“Not about the operation,” he said. “I just don’t know what might happen to Cassandra and Ramon when we go in there like this. There’s no other way, and I don’t want to wait. But… if Lester gets backed into a corner…”

“I get it,” Alex said. “There’s a variable there, and we don’t know the value. But Lester can’t imagine losing, right?”

“Sure,” Nick said. “It’s never a possibility to him.”

“Then I think that Cassandra and Ramon will be safe,” she told him. “Because by the time he realizes it’s the end, he’ll be busy focusing on you. Men like that, when it comes down to it, are all about self-preservation.”

“Men like that,” Nick sighed. “You know, once, a long time ago, I thought he and I were a lot alike. He did too. I was his favorite. Don’t tell Riley.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure Riley would have something to say about that. He thinks he was Lester’s favorite.”

“You two are talking?” Nick wondered.

She only shrugged, and raised an arch eyebrow before she stood and crawled back into the van. But she was smiling.

Well. That was something.

Over the comms, while they had them, Lorraine’s rich voice counted down. “Three, two, kaboom…”

Nick didn’t know the details about how she’d gotten the explosives set. Lorraine and Iruka had rigged up some long range method, based on something they’d pulled off before. But between the two of them, it was a precision job.

Seconds after Lorraine’s count finished, every planted explosive went up at once. The front gate disappeared in a pillar of smoke and fire, along with a section on the south wall as well as the east wall. That had been a last minute adjustment—Lorraine had more C-4 than she expected and was loathe to let it go to waste.

At that same moment, Alex launched her part of the assault. False reports bounced through the comm signals being used inside the estate, directing security forces to all three locations. They wouldn’t find anyone at any of them.

Nick, Riley, Orelia, and Morris vaulted up and over the west wall, closest to the house, and slowed as one as they descended on ropes to the estate grounds. They were in, and there was hardly any resistance.

The few guards unfortunate enough to have been nearby went down silently—two with bullets to the neck, another gurgling with one of Orelia’s slender knives in his throat. They didn’t talk, didn’t give hand signs. They didn’t need to. Radio silence was the rule, and they all knew where they were heading.

The dinner was elaborate. Even in her father’s day, Cassandra didn’t think she’d seen such a spread. Gone was the fine china her great, great grandmother had ordered custom made for the house. In its place was something gaudy and gilded; the silverware was clearly eurocentric. The white table cloth smacked of pretension.

Cassandra wasn’t the only one who thought so. She could see the subtle looks of distaste along the table from the eyes of both the elder cartel lords and their wives and daughters. These people had a specific sensibility about Colombian class, and this wasn’t it. This was a white man trying to show them that his culture and style were superior.

It made it easier for Cassandra to smile at them all.

See how this blanco treats us? Do you really want to follow him, even with me at his side?

Ramon was beside her, hands in his lap, intimidated by all the food and uncomfortable in the little suit ‘uncle’ Lester had him dressed in. Cassandra hated it. Normally, she would have thought it was the most adorable thing in the world. Now, she imagined that the image of Ramon in a suit was going to be tainted for her forever.

“Put your napkin in your lap, Mijito,” she said. “And sit up straight.”

“When is Dad getting here?” Ramon asked.

Cassandra sighed, and squeezed her son’s hand. He didn’t know yet. She wanted to tell him; she hated lying. But… he was too young to lose a parent. Especially one he’d only just discovered he had. At the very least, Lester assured her that Ellen hadn’t died in front of Ramon. Though, she wasn’t sure about it. When Cassandra asked about it, Ramon shut down. He’d seen something.

“I don’t think your dad is going to be at dinner tonight,” she told him. “Sorry, Mijito. But hopefully we’ll see him soon.”

She rubbed his shoulder.

Ramon frowned, and looked up at her. “That’s not what uncle Lester said. He said Dad was going to be here.”

Cassandra held her breath, staring at Ramon’s earnest eyes. Was Lester just being cruel or…

She looked at Lester. He turned his face toward her, and when he saw her expression… he winked.

And then, thunder shook the world.

Nick’s fellow assassins did their jobs with aplomb. He didn’t have to check on them. They had his back, and the group had one goal—get to the house, guard the choke points, get Nick in range of Lester.

They left a trail of bodies behind them as they fought their way through the house. Nick stopped counting the number of men he put down. A bullet in the throat of one blended seamlessly into a shattered leg and an elbow to the temple for another. Orelia’s knives flashed past him, followed quickly by her lithe form as she retrieved it and launched herself at another guard. The guards all had automatic weapons and sidearms, but they had to worry about friendly fire.

Nick’s team was small, and they kept out of one another’s ways. The net result was a bloodbath.

They reached the wide double doors to the grand dining hall as the last guard fell. More were on their way, but they wouldn’t fire directly at the doors with their bosses inside.

“Hold this point,” Nick told them.

The door was, predictably, locked. Nick gave it a push, high and low, identified where the bar was. It was heavy wood, something old, seasoned, and flexible.

“Morris?” He asked.

The big man turned, gave the door the same assessment, and then took a wordless step back before he lifted a leg and kicked.

The edges of the door shattered, and they flew inward, bits of hardware clattering to the floor beyond as people gathered around the table cringed and reached for weapons.

Nick fired five shots, into the chests of guards around the table. Fresh clip, twenty rounds. Fifteen left. He swept his arm along his sight line. “No weapons,” he said. “I’m a very good shot.”

At the head of the table, Lester clapped, slow and loud. “Bravo,” he called. “Right on time. Ladies and gentleman, may I introduce Nicholas Graves.”

No one else applauded, but Nick paused. He saw Cassandra then. He hadn’t recognized her with all the makeup on her face, her hair done up. If she didn’t look terrified and shocked, she would have looked almost beautiful. Almost. He preferred her without all the paint.

She was still intoxicating, though.

Ramon was next to her. He looked shocked as well, but was quickly becoming excited.

Nick stalked the length of the table cautiously. Something was wrong here.

“It’s done, Lester,” Nick said. “My people can hold this point indefinitely. And believe me, they all have beef with you.”

Lester looked down the table, toward the doors. “Is that Morris? And Orelia? Or Iruka? I could never tell them apart at a distance. Well, it’s practically a family reunion. Well done.”

“What is the meaning of this, Senor Miles?” One of the elderly men a few seats from Lester asked. “You do not seem concerned that our lives are at risk.”

Lester picked his napkin up off his lap and tossed it on the table. “They are not at risk, Senor Moreno. We are all perfectly safe. What I’ve done here, you see,” he smiled at Nick, “is bring you Emilio Gonzales’ killer. As a final offering of honor.”

Nick whipped his head around at the sound of several concussive thuds. Orelia’s head vanished in a spray of blood, her body dropping like a stone. Morris and Riley barely had time to react before they dropped as well from other shots. Snipers. Told to hold steady and watch the doors. If Nick was in sight, or a target, he would be dead already.

He wrenched his attention back to Lester, who watched the unmoving bodies of his former foster children with what might have been genuine dismay. “A pity,” he said. “They all deserved better deaths than that.”

He’d known. Lester had known, of course, all along. The bastard always knew. Nick turned his gun on his old teacher, but Lester didn’t move.

“I know this is not how you wanted this all to go,” Lester said slowly. “I know that you just… wanted to go on with your life. But justice—”

“Has he told you all that it was him that ordered Emilio Gonzales’ assassination?” Nick asked the gathered audience. “That he did it specifically so he could take over?”

“Senor Miles,” the old man, Moreno, said, “did not slaughter our men, or charge into our midst and threaten our families.”

There was a chorus of agreements, and more movement as guns were readied under the table.

“Nick,” Alex whispered in his ear. He almost flinched, but didn’t.

“Secure line. Riley filled me in. He’s alive. The house has a sound system. I need you to get… about twelve feet to your eight o’clock. Wireless hub. Drop the ear piece there.”

Nick took a step back from the table. “You’re going to let him defile everything Emilio stood for?” He asked them. “He tried to have Cassandra and Ramon, Emilio’s daughter and grandson, killed.”

“We have seen the contract you accepted,” someone spoke up.

“No,” Nick said, and took another step, a little to the left and back. It was a lot of space to cover. He made a show of looking for snipers; it was a good reason to get close to the wall. “I took the contract on Emilio. I admit to that. I didn’t know what kind of man he was; I was just a trigger. But I saved Cassandra, hid her from Lester. And Ramon… he’s my son. I never could have harmed them, I just couldn’t risk someone else taking the contract. But it was a set up.”

That would have to do. He swatted something from his ear, and brushed the ear piece out in the bargain.

“It’s true,” Cassandra said, standing. “Nick is Ramon’s father. He came for us when he found out there were new contracts on us.”

Lester shook his head sadly, and Cassandra pulled Ramon to her side. Lester still didn’t seem concerned, though.

Then the speakers came on.

“Hi dad.”

Lester… froze.

So did Nick.

“Sorry, dropped signal. This sound system is shitty… It’s me. You know who.”

Lester’s lips moved. He looked around the room, as if looking for a ghost.

“To the… assembled drug lords of Colombia,” Alex went on, “which is something I never thought I would get to say… what Nick is telling you is true. And, I can prove it. Take a listen.”

There was a moment of static, and then Lester’s voice came over the speakers. “The Gonzales bitch is in Denver. Hire the Porter guy, make sure Cassandra’s face is in the picture.”

“You gonna kill her? I thought you needed her—”

Lester cut off whoever was on the other line, “If she dies, it’ll set me back but eliminate the last of the Gonzales line. If it goes how I expect, she’ll be an asset. Either way I win, but now is the time to pull the trigger. The cartels are restless after losing Martinez and Rojas, but they won’t be for long.”

“Why not use the guy who did them?” The voice asked.

“If I wanted to use him, I would have hired him myself. This is above your pay grade. Just do as I say and trust me.”

“Sound at all familiar?” Alex asked. “It should. Before your admittedly impressive security team kicked me out of your database, I hacked your phones and dug your calls out of the NSA database. I keep telling people, big brother is watching. Oh, here’s another good one.”