A Hitman's Kryptonite

by Cage Thompson

  “Sure,” she answered, suddenly thirsty.

  Quickly, they made their way to the carpark to place the bags in the trunk before he called Sandy to update her on their process and to keep updated on Gabby. Sandy was Wyatt’s contact in Amarillo. A tall, red-haired beauty that’d caused a rush of jealousy in her before she had reminded herself that he wasn’t hers. She didn’t even know the man! Embarrassment had washed over her swiftly because she suspected that Sandy might’ve picked up on her vibes, though she remained the sweetest person she’d met in a while and her daughter was fascinated. Either way, Gabby was under her care as she played nanny and bodyguard. Wyatt had promptly informed her of the other woman’s accolades and why he had chosen her to protect her daughter.

  Satisfied with the progress report from the other woman, he rang off the call and brought her to the food court for something to eat.

  “What do you want?” he asked as they strolled passed some of the restaurants.

  “I thought you’d learned your lesson today about asking me that,” she chuckled and he grimaced.

  “Well, Chinese it is then,” he started. “Minus the onions.”

  She laughed softly before shivering when he stroked her back. She looked up at him but he didn’t even seem to realize that he was doing it as he booked them a table.

  He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance after seating her and before taking his seat, and warm bubbles floated in her stomach.

  “Anything to drink, Madam?” the waitress questioned.

  “White wine pairs well with what she ordered,” he supplied as she seemed to deliberate over the drinks menu.

  “A sprite would be fine,” she corrected and the woman smiled uneasily before moving away as if she expected him to blow a fuse because she changed her drink from his suggestion.

  His navy eyes scanned her face before he flinched. “I keep on forgetting; I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “That’s ok,” she breathed before reaching out automatically to cover his hand on the table top.

  “Some women would’ve just drunk it anyway,” he continued.

  “I’m not some women,” she supplied. “And though Brooke Genovese is listed as twenty-three; legally, I’m not supposed to be drinking for another few months.”

  “Yeah,” he responded and the stroking of his thumb over her wrist seized before he withdrew his hand.

  An awkward silence fell over the table and she was relieved when the waitress brought out their food.

  “Your yearbook said that you wanted to do law; would you still do that if you had the chance?” he asked.

  She shrugged as she dug into her sweet and sour chicken. “I don’t know how I’d even go about starting,” she responded.

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way and it’s always good to have a good lawyer in your back pocket,” he joked.

  She blushed and stuffed a piece of meat into her mouth at his comment. He almost sounded like being around her would be a permanent thing.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “It’s about mistaken identity… I mean, I would be a little concerned.”

  —Richard Kessler

  With their bellies stuffed, they made their way back to the car so that they could allow Sandy to get some rest before they began their early morning journey in order to beat the snow storm. He comfortably kept a palm firmly against her spine as they chatted, keeping her close. In a fit of laughter, she snatched the keys from his pocket.

  “I’m driving; you’re drunk,” she giggled.

  Before he could respond, a voice broke into their dialogue.

  “Don’t I know you?” the man demanded as he pulled closer to him in the dimly lit parking garage.

  Wyatt’s demeanor instantly changed and she knew that something was up. The muscles in his jaws flexed as a shiver passed through her body when she took in the man’s menacing tattoos.

  “I’m sorry; you have the wrong person,” he answered calmly but the man still advanced on them as they walked towards the car.

  “No, no, man,” the man muttered and Wyatt’s body sprang into fight mood because he was too close for flight and this man looked like he wasn’t about to let up.

  “Raine, get in the car,” he instructed as they came upon the simple hatchback stuffed with bags. He didn’t stand a chance at avoiding this.

  “I’d never forget the face of the demon who screwed me over in New York and with my old lady of all people!” the man chuckled darkly and he saw and felt her shiver of fear.

  She too could now taste and smell the danger that floated so casually in the chilling air.

  “You know what the sweetest thing was?” he asked but Wyatt didn’t even bother to answer because he knew that the question didn’t require one. The answer would come sooner rather than later. “She squealed when I gutted her like the pig she was,” he laughed and she gasped.

  Her movement caught his eyes and Wyatt wanted to shove her into the vehicle but she had the keys and he couldn’t take his eyes off this man.

  “Lovely dark meat you have there, Stephano,” he continued.

  “Raine, open the blasting car and get in,” he snapped low enough for her alone to hear.

  “But—”

  “You wanted to drive, right?” he growled and the keys jingled as her hand jerked.

  She cried out as her skin burned and she looked down to see the keys pinned to the door by a menacing knife. Blood dripped down her fingers and she suddenly felt faint at the sight. Her cry had distracted Wyatt enough for him to miss the draw of the gun. In a second, there was a pistol leveled at her forehead.

  “Not so fast, my boy,” he chuckled as Wyatt’s fingers curled around his gun’s handle. Wyatt seemingly hesitated as the man’s finger tightened around the trigger. “It’s a fair trade if I get the girl,” he suggested. “After all, you cost me mine.”

  Wyatt wanted to tell him where he could shove it but instead, he issued her an instruction.

  “Brooke, go,” he said loud enough for the man to hear.

  “Wyatt,” she breathed softly, her voice trembling.

  “Go!” he snapped and the man chuckled.

  “He prefers his life over yours, love,” he laughed darkly as her legs shook but she forced them to go one in front of the other.

  “Raine, drop!” he commanded and she didn’t hesitate.

  Her sudden movement was enough for Wyatt to get the upper hand and a soft pop sounded before the man’s brains showered down on the concrete. The gun clattered to the ground noisily before the body and a strong hand covered her mouth as a scream ripped through her body. Adrenaline poured through her frame as she saw the smoke rise from the silencer of the gun in his hand.

  With finesse, he slid the gun back into place and hauled her quaking body against his as sobs tore through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he held her like a baby.

  Touching a finger to his ear, she heard it ring before it connected and a voice floated over the waves.

  “Oliver, we have an issue,” he stated calmly as if he hadn’t just blown someone’s brains out.

  “What’s happening?” the other man questioned.

  “Stephano seems to have enemies everywhere; no wonder he was running from New York,” he grumbled back.

  “I’m guessing that you just took out one of his acquaintances—”

  “I couldn’t just let him take her!” Wyatt protested.

  “You could’ve tracked them down after—”

  “Hell no!” he snapped. “I’m not supposed to let her out of my sight, remember?”

  Oliver grunted an answer and Wyatt was glad that he had given up because she had stiffened in his arms at every word from his boss. “I’ll get the sheriff to your location and brief them to keep this quiet and out of the press.”

  “Shut down level four of the garage while you’re at it please.”

  “Wyatt you can do that on your own.”

  “Fine,” he muttered in response before he
pressed a few things on his watch and the level went dark.

  Raine gasped n fear and pressed her face farther into the nook of his shoulder.

  “They’re on their way,” Oliver stated evenly as her fingers tangled with his hair.

  “Thanks,” he responded and hesitated to disconnect when the older man made a sound.

  “Boss?”

  “If there’s one, there might be others—”

  “Yeah, I know; it’s best not to stay.”

  With that, he severed the call to dial up Sandy.

  “Boss?”

  “Take the chopper and bring Gabriella to Santa Fe; there’s been a complication.”

  “And what will happen to you and Raine?” she questioned.

  “We’ll drive up once we get this cleared.”

  “And if she asks for her mother?”

  “You can call me and I’ll put her on but knowing Gabriella, she’ll be rife with the attention and adventure.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Boss; hopefully before that snowstorm blows over.”

  “Hopefully,” he responded before he disconnected that call as well. “It’ll be okay,” he breathed as he stroked her trembling back. “It’ll be okay.”

  Within a few minutes, as the metallic scent of blood clogged their nostrils and Raine’s shivers started to die down, the lights of the sheriff’s jeep rounded the bend.

  “Captain Coleman,” the older man greeted as he stepped from the vehicle. “I would shake your hand if they weren’t so full,” he continued and Wyatt flinched as her hands tightened around his neck almost painfully.

  “I take it that you know who this is,” Wyatt commented as he nodded towards the body and a crime scene van pulled up.

  “Little Kid is what he calls himself,” the officer started. “He has been a lot of trouble for us around here.”

  Wyatt grunted a response as he mentally ran through his gang database. “The son of Roberto Garcia, MS-13, New Jersey chapter.”

  “One and the same,” the other man replied. “Your boss filled me in on why he thought you were Stephano Genovese but a word to the wise, he comes with wanna-be bangers.”

  “So, I’ve been told; I just wanted to stay long enough to hand the scene over to you,” Wyatt commented.

  “And you have; now, you’re free to go. We’ll spin the story so that your cover remains intact.”

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely before shifting Raine enough to shake the man’s hand. “Be careful out there Sheriff Smith.”

  “Likewise, Captain,” the older man said as Wyatt dragged the knife out of the black metal of the car door in order to retrieve the keys.

  With a sigh, he pushed the seat as far back as it could go and settled in it; knowing that it would be a while before he could unglue her from his chest. Flicking his lights, he strolled out of the garage as silently as he’d entered a few hours ago.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Shock makes us say and do stupid things.”

  —C.A.G.E. Thompson

  Wyatt pressed the glass of brandy into her hands and her glassy eyes came up to meet his.

  “Drink it,” he commanded; her lips trembled in response. “You aren’t used to anyone taking care of you, are you?” he questioned softly and she looked away.

  Taking the glass, he sat beside her and hoisted her onto his lap.

  “Open your mouth,” he instructed. But instead of doing that, she pressed her lips to his and a groan tore through his body.

  Suddenly, with a cry of anguish, she was out of his lap and across the room at the window.

  “Raine,” he breathed in confusion as he rose to move towards her.

  “I know that you’re two different people, here,” she murmured as she tapped the side of her head. “But it’s just—”

  “I understand,” he reassured softly as his hand fell to his side and he stepped back realizing that this might all be a little too much for her.

  “I don’t believe that you do,” she hissed as she spun towards him, her eyes flashing.

  His brows knitted in confusion.

  “That was too easy for you,” she stated and he knew to what she referred.

  “I had to protect you,” he responded calmly.

  “Where’s the line?” she questioned candidly.

  “Where ever the heck I want it to be!” he snapped, losing his cool.

  “And that’s the problem, Wyatt!”

  “If I had let him go, we would’ve had two sets of people hunting us down!” he hissed. “Do you want that?” he demanded. “Do you want Gabriella to become the next pawn in someone’s twisted games?” he breathed out coldly. “She trusts easily, and it takes nothing for them to use that against you, against her! And I’d rather die before I see either of you get hurt when I am capable of stopping it!”

  His chest rose and fell heavily and for a second she was speechless because every fiber within her wanted to run to him and claim that power that he so freely offered but fear held her back.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” she whispered as she turned away from him.

  “That might be best,” he responded before knocking back the brandy as the door closed softly behind her.

  ∆∆∆

  Wyatt’s navy eyes traced the mildew patterns in the ceiling as his right hand swirled another glass of brandy that he knew he wouldn’t drink before the night was through. He was too disciplined to ever allow himself to lose an ounce of control on the job; especially when it was someone for whom he seemed to care for so much.

  He sighed heavily as he tilted his face towards the room door, his hair caressing the old settee as his head rolled to one side. It was so weird how he felt so attached to her, yet he’d only had full contact with her for a couple of days. His emotions felt so wired that anything could take him over the edge. He had never been known to be emotional, yet somehow, she had him so tied up in knots that he had no hope of ever figuring his way out of it.

  He shifted and a gun poked into his spine aggressively. With ease, he reached behind him to retrieve it before placing it on his knee. His brows knitted together as he surveyed the custom-made handle with the number of men and women who had died under his watch in the Navy, adroitly carved into the expensive woodgrain. It had been carved like that so that when his flesh pressed into it, he would remember never to lose another soul. He didn’t understand why she was angry at him for killing a man who’d been intent on killing him and taking her to do God knows what.

  He hadn’t even thought of hesitating in taking him out. A beast had risen up in him at the thought of anyone daring to even think of hurting her and his move had been instinctive. It was fight mode all the way but he had to admit that pulling the trigger had never felt so good. He just didn’t understand why she was angry at him for doing something that saved her life. There had been no other options; it had been between killing him and saving her. There’d be a snowstorm in hell before he ever allowed harm to come to her willingly.

  Women, he thought as he placed the glass on the coffee table before him. You can’t live with them and you can’t live without them, he mumbled internally.

  He pushed a hand to his ear to answer the call as his eyes fastened to the monitor that watched her sleep.

  “Trent’s told me that you aren’t yourself,” Crew murmured down the line.

  “Trent talks too much,” he grumbled back and Crew chuckled down the line.

  “And I see that he was right.”

  Wyatt hummed an answer, choosing not to brew up any trouble to set Crew off because then he would find more than what he was ready to admit.

  “Is it because of Aiden?” he asked softly and Wyatt swallowed audibly.

  “Gabriella reminds me of him, yes, but it’s not that. It’s like we haven’t just met.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose as he agonized as to how to describe what was going on in his chest. “She has me tied up in knots and I can’t understand why I feel the way I do. She’s given me
no motivation to pursue her but I can’t seem to help myself.” He sighed heavily.

  “Bro, this is not your midlife crisis because you aren’t even there yet, but maybe she’s just the one for you—”

  “Crew, there is no such thing as love at first sight—”

  “But lust doesn’t make you want to protect your bed partner—”

  “That’s a duty!” Wyatt interrupted and Crew scuffed. “And she’s not my bed partner…”

  “Not yet,” his friend snickered and his jaws flexed in response.

  “Can we change the subject?” he muttered crossly.

  “Well, Vince has taken over the Miami chapter and the shipment of drugs and guns are increasing; business is booming for them on this end as he shakes hands with the right, wrong kind of people.”

  “Do you think Vince took him out for the position?” he questioned.

  “It’s possible but Vince seems like a one-man show and Stephano loved hangers-on; it’s a bit hard on the new guy,” Crew stated.

  “He's taking out his own men,” Wyatt concluded.

  “Like flies,” Crew confirmed. “To be honest, they weren’t of much use to him but Ignacio can’t be pleased with all the attention that it’s garnering.”

  “Right now, Ignacio is too busy leaving a bloody trail behind as he looks for Brooke’s— Raine’s killers, to be overseeing his underlings.”

  “And Vince is using that to his advantage,” Crew finished.

  “Keep an ear out for any movement of him re-pulling her murder file,” he instructed.

  “Will do, but at this point, only Ignacio seems to be interested in the aspect and Trent’s covering that.”

  “Vince is smart; he won’t show all his cards at once and if he aims to take Ignacio out then he’ll be holding his ace under the table until the opportune time; just be careful out there,” Wyatt advised.

  “You too, Wy.”

  Wyatt resumed his position of trying to figure Raine out by tracing the ceiling patterns after Crew rang off; eventually, that too he gave up when no answers came.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN