Scars: A Killers Novel, Book 5

by Brynne Asher

  “You know I’ll do it.”

  I hug the pillow that smells of his body wash. “I’ve already wired the money to your account.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me, either,” he mutters and presses his groin into my ass, proving my determination does, in fact, turn him on.

  You’d think, after all this time, it wouldn’t please me so.

  Yet, it does.

  Chapter 10

  Complicated

  Cole

  I swing the door to my office open with my phone to my ear as I listen to Hollingsworth push back on the favor I need. “I have a lot of contacts around the District, but politicians? I don’t touch them with a ten-foot pole.”

  “I can’t be the one nosing around about this guy. I can pull a lot of files but not on a senator. That’ll throw up red flags and get me called into my supervisor’s supervisor’s office. A simple Google search leads me to believe Charles Randolph is knee-deep into ninety percent of the dark shit going on in Congress. Somehow he keeps coming out smelling like roses instead of the outhouse he plays in. He’s the keynote at an event the week after next—the one she wants a ticket to. I don’t need to pull his file to remember him shouting from the damn rooftops after the explosion in Barcelona.” I don’t say it out loud but we both know he’s why she’s here.

  I toss my bag on the floor next to my desk and listen to silence.

  “Asa?” I bite.

  “Bella is going to waltz her ass into the Kennedy Center where Randolph is the big attraction?”

  “That’s her plan. And you know she’s gonna do it whether I help or not. The only way for me to manage this is to be there as her backup.”

  He laughs.

  The bastard actually laughs at me.

  “Only you,” his words shake with fucking amusement at my expense. “Would harbor the most-wanted former British Intelligence asset in modern history in your fixer-upper farmhouse and then help her get close to the man who heads up the Anti-Terrorism Committee in the Senate. Not only that, he’s the one who called for her head in connection to a bomb that killed a bus load of people.”

  I drag a hand down my face. “Had she known about that, she would have stopped it. You know it.”

  “I never thought she did know about it. Crew wouldn’t work with her if he thought she did, either.”

  “Then why are we going through this again?”

  “Because it’s ironic.”

  “Nothing ironic about it. Now I know why she came to the States but I still don’t know Randolph’s connection.”

  I almost hear him roll his eyes. “Maybe you should ask her.”

  I fall to my chair. “It’s complicated. That’s not how we operate. Look, I’ve had your back over the years—helped you and your boys with all kinds of shit that I probably shouldn’t have. I need you to do this for me.”

  “He’s a politician which means he’s a scumbag. What else do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know what I need to know, which means I need to know everything.”

  He sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I appreciate it. I also need two tickets to that event, if you run into any while you’re asking around, buy them and I’ll pay you back.” I take a gulp of my coffee. “And bring Saylor over to the house again soon. Red’s taking Abbott to the Humane Society to get a cat today.”

  “Saylor would love that. How’s Abbott?”

  “Quiet. Shy. Doesn’t want to leave the house, not interested in making new friends, and she’s got mommy issues.” I sit back in my chair and turn to look out the window. “Nothing has changed. And I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

  “You’ve got a full plate.”

  “I do. I’ve got calls to make. Let me know what you find out.”

  “Talk soon.”

  I hang up and pick up my other phone, pushing go on the number that had better pick up the other end.

  A groan creeps over the line. “I was asleep.”

  “The deposit wired into your bank account in the last hour is proof enough I don’t care if you’re dreaming of sugarplum fairies, Raji. I need an update and you didn’t call last night like you said you would, so here I am—fishing for the information you’ve been paid for. Again.”

  I hear rustling in the background. “Since when did you become such a micro-manager?”

  I pull his file out of my bag. “Since you don’t check in when you say you will and my boss is all over my ass about you earning your paycheck.”

  “Fair enough. I had a late night and crashed.”

  “Your late night better have had something to do with our target.”

  “Who do you think you’re working with?”

  “Raji, unlike you, I do have other cases. Can you get to it today?”

  “Fine. I picked up the trail of that plane. It made three stops before finally landing at a small airstrip in Yemen. All I know is it’s heading back my way. I assume our friends are not on it.”

  “I need names of the lower-level, Raji. Pictures would be better. Who got on the plane?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent, but I’ve narrowed it down to who I think they could be by who I haven’t seen. My guys here helped. Arif Nahas, Harb—I don’t have a first name, and a Tom Crowley.”

  I pause as I scribble in the file. “An American?”

  “Unless he renamed himself … your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’ll run these and see what I come up with. You don’t know where they’re headed from Yemen?”

  “I don’t but I have a call in to someone in Oman. I’ll see what I can find.”

  “This is a good start.”

  He yawns. “Will do. Next time, if you could call during the day, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No promises. Talk soon.”

  I type the password into my computer to run those names when my boss, Nick Peterson, appears at my threshold. Before he has a chance to say anything, I hold my hand up. “I’ve got names. I’m running them now. Raji is back on track like I knew he’d be.”

  “Finally. But that’s not why I stopped by.”

  I hike a brow and wonder what other hell he could slap me across the face with.

  “We’ve got a new assignment. Backgrounds have already been done and vetted so we can skip that part of the process—it’s become our number one priority. You’ll be getting an email in the next hour. Move it to the top of the list. I need your best on it.”

  I bite my tongue because informing him I don’t contract with anyone but the best will only prolong his flyby. Seeing as my list of things to do is more complicated than the Mayan calendar, I don’t need him here any longer than necessary. But I know for a fact not one of my people will take a contract if I tell them our usual vetting process is being skipped. Nor should they.

  If I don’t do it myself, they will. It’s a risk no one with a brain the size of a dime would take.

  It’s amazing what management seems to forget once they acclimate to fluorescent lights and fake plants.

  But with the goal of getting him out of my face, I don’t elaborate. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “This is sensitive and needs to be carried out as soon as possible. Don’t put anyone green on this,” he stresses.

  Like I’ve ever done that. This time I need a vise to keep my true thoughts of him to myself. “Of course.”

  He slaps the door jamb, and with a curt nod, finally leaves me to my less-than-peaceful day.

  When my computer dings with the email, curiosity gets the best of me. Setting aside the names I need to run, I maneuver my way through three levels of security before opening the encrypted document containing the information of our latest target who my supervisor wants wiped from this earth in the quickest way possible.

  I scan the first three pages before going back to the beginning.

  This can’t be right.

  I read every single word and then read them again.

  No fucking way.


  I look to my open doorway where my supervisor stood and gave me an order. A kill order which has already been so-called vetted by higher-ups…

  This is like nothing I’ve seen before.

  The background noise of secrets and intel and covert operations drift through the building—operatives and case workers doing what they do best—but I hear none of it.

  I look back to my screen and read the description of the so-called target that has apparently been moved to the top of our list.

  “This cannot be real,” I mutter to no one.

  Then I pick up the phone and dial Hollingsworth.

  And I make plans that do not include orders from my boss. This target will be vetted deeper and more comprehensively than any I’ve ever done in the past.

  Someone is playing a fucked-up game and we just got to level ten. All guns have been loaded and the stakes couldn’t be higher.

  Bella

  “I can’t believe Cole arranged for you to do this. I could’ve cut them out myself.”

  “What else do I have to do?” Gracie doesn’t look up as we have a chat while she works on the stitches I refuse to focus on because of the ugly scar I’ll be left with for eternity. “I hope you’re taking it easy and giving your body a chance to heal. You’ll create scar tissue if you overdo it. That will create complications later.”

  Gracie showed up at Cole’s house right before lunchtime. If I were a dramatic woman, I would have fallen to my knees in gratitude. Not only did she arrive with a mammoth vineyard gift basket full of wine and nibbles, but she had a pork pie.

  It was divine and instantly reminded me of home. What was even better, she slaved over it herself since I mentioned a pork pie to Noah while I was in the hospital.

  I must have been snockered on pain killers because I have no memory of the conversation.

  I’ve decided Gracie might as well be my American fairy godmother. Her version of meat pie was so delicious, I had two helpings with two glasses of wine. It’s the most I’ve eaten since I was shot and definitely the first drink.

  Red proved I am the only person on earth he’s salty about because he fawned over Gracie and the pie in the same fashion he grandfathers Abbott. And since I need information to operate in everything I do, this was a good bit for me to file away. Red is only irritable with me.

  Good to know.

  Little Abbott ate half of her lunch and then dropped her fork when Gracie explained she made it because it’s a popular English dish and she heard it was a favorite of mine. That’s when she announced she was full and ready to get her cat.

  Lord have mercy. That child hates me.

  Gracie, with her wide, beautiful blue eyes, simply poured me another glass of Meritage and instructed me to drink up.

  That was an hour ago. Red and Abbott left me to my bloated stomach, relaxed head, and new friend.

  I’m lying on Cole’s bed with my shirt tucked under my breasts as Gracie snips away. “I know my body. I’m not doing anything it can’t handle.”

  I feel her stop and open my eyes to find hers on me. “I have a feeling that means you’re overdoing it.”

  I shake my head as my lids fall again so I can enjoy my relaxed buzz. “I’m doing exactly what I need to do to get the hell out of your country as soon as I can.”

  Snip.

  “You don’t like Virginia?”

  Tug.

  One more stitch is a bad memory. “You’re with Jarvis and you’re Grady’s sister, which means you know Crew. I assume you know all there is to know.”

  Snip.

  “I do.”

  Tug.

  “And you’ve been sent here, to work on me privately, as opposed to my returning to the doctor for a follow-up visit.”

  Her touch on my belly is gentle and methodical. I had no idea she was a surgical nurse until she announced that fact during lunch. She was sent here to check me over and remove my stitches if she deemed they were ready to bite the dust. I was planning to rip them out myself in the next day or so but how could I argue after she made me pork pie and wined me up? This might be the loveliest thing anyone has done for me since my Pakistani neighbor boy brought me a stack of warm chapati fresh from the skillet.

  Who am I kidding? Sleeping up against Cole Carson is mighty lovely, as well. Even if it takes a lot of wine to admit it.

  But it doesn’t count right now since he’s basically holding me hostage in the middle of a forest with his family who hates me.

  “Yeah, Jarvis explained how you don’t need a trip back into the public right now. It’s all good. I’m here for whatever you need, but do me a favor and don’t get shot again. I don’t exactly have the tools back at the cottage for that.”

  “Bloody hell. If I go through that again, let me die.”

  Snip.

  “I don’t even want to think about that. You didn’t answer my question and you seem hellbent to get out of Dodge. Why don’t you like it here?”

  Tug.

  “I can’t be here while the intelligence world is looking for me. Even if I wasn’t living this nightmare, I’m not ready to give up my work. Cole and I are complicated and became something I never planned. He’s lived his exciting career and I still want to live mine.”

  “How old is Cole?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  She stops and sits up. “And how old are you?”

  I open my eyes and focus on her. “Twenty-seven.”

  She goes back to work on my many stitches.

  Snip.

  “And you and Cole stayed a thing all that time?” She stops before yanking out another stitch and looks up to me. “Noah filled me in on everything he knows. I hope it’s okay to ask you all this. I have three sisters—I’m chatty and nosy by nature. Sorry if I’m crossing the line.”

  “I have brothers. They’re not chatty or nosy. It’s fine, Gracie.”

  She goes back to work on me.

  Tug.

  “Okay, then. I want to know it all. Start from the beginning and spill, my new British friend.” She stops and sits up straight. “Wait. I should get you another glass of wine.”

  I don’t correct her that I’m English. “Only if you’ll join me.”

  She holds up a pair of precision medical scissors in one hand and tweezers in the other. “No can do. I’m working and driving. Plus it’s your gift basket from Addy, and after everything you’ve been through, you deserve every drop of it. Next time.”

  I put my hand on her arm and give it a squeeze. “Thank you. I grew up with brothers, work in a man’s world, and have lived in a country where other women don’t know what to think of me. Besides my mum, I’ve never gotten on with females well. I’m not used to women being kind without wanting anything in return or gossiping about me behind my back.”

  Her smile is small and I’m afraid it’s not a happy one, but rather one that says she pities me. “I’m moving to Virginia. It’s all set. Noah and I went to Columbus and cleaned out my apartment.”

  “I’m happy for you, Gracie.”

  Her smile turns mischievous. “I’m just saying, I could be your first friend here in the U.S. There’s no bullshit when it comes to you. I like that.”

  “No, I definitely don’t bullshit anyone.”

  Her focus returns to my fresh scar. “And I like to listen to you talk. You sound fancy and there’s nothing fancy about me.”

  “Hmm, if you saw how I live, you’d rethink that.”

  “Noah told me you tried to kick his ass.”

  “No, I would have kicked his arse had he not been Crew’s man. I went easy on him.”

  She laughs.

  “I’m serious, Gracie.”

  “If you say so. Now, I want to know everything about you and Cole. And why you want to leave.”

  I look down at her. “I’m afraid I need another favor.”

  At first I thought she was going to demand I tell her everything in exchange. But instead, without even thinking, she agrees without knowing wh
at she’s agreeing to. “Sure. Anything.”

  “I need a dress.”

  She looks up again. “A dress?”

  “Yes,” I confirm and then add, “a formal one—classy, but flashy. I need to be seen, Gracie. Shoes, jewelry, and a thin handbag—not smaller than twenty-one centimeters in length and bejeweled like a firecracker. And a wig. The darker the better. I need to look like I’ve been dipped in money.”

  Her eyes widen and she doesn’t say anything for a few ticks. Finally, her brow puckers and she bites her bottom lip. “Your new best friend only works in inches. I’m going to have to look up what twenty-one centimeters is. I can’t remember that from elementary school.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” I promise.

  She gives her head a tiny shake and finds my hand for a squeeze. “Noah would never allow it. When do you need this getup?”

  “By the end of next week. Can you help me?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Easy. I can have it by the end of tomorrow.”

  I exhale, feeling lighter than I have in days, and it has nothing to do with the wine. One less thing to think about. “Thank you.”

  “Girl, I’ve got your back.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask what it’s for?”

  “No, even though I’m nosy as fuck. I’ll be your shopper, your nurse, and your wine delivery girl. You had Noah’s back and I’ve got yours—forever. No questions asked, no matter how much I want to know.”

  She goes back to my stitches.

  Snip.

  Tug.

  And she doesn’t ask me another thing.

  Silence settles over us so heavy, the snip of the scissors scream as they fill the space.

  I’m not sure if it’s the wine or Gracie Cain or lying in Cole’s bed where he’s fused himself to me every night yet still hasn’t kissed me once. Whatever it is, I’m moved to do something I’ve never done before.

  I share a bit of me.

  “Cole was my first.”

  Gracie stops mid-tug.

  “And he’s still my only,” I add.

  She sits up. “Wow.”

  I nod. “As I said, we’re complicated.”