A Hitman's Kryptonite

by Cage Thompson

  “You and Gabby are my family,” she informed him frankly.

  A smile curled up the corners of his lips. “Go, before I ravish you,” he growled and a blush colored her cheeks.

  Quickly, she opened the door and planted her snow boots on the freshly cleared asphalt. She sent him a pleading look as she closed the door and he rolled his eyes before shaking his head. With a sigh, she made her way to the door.

  Taking a deep breath, she reached out a slightly trembling hand to press the doorbell to the massive farmhouse. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from the confines of her chest with its frantic pounding. Once she'd had her own key to this palace of a home but now she stood outside like a nervous stranger. This was truly no longer home. Her eyes surveyed the double oak doors and she realized how much that was true. After everything that had happened, she didn't think that she could ever see here as home. At this point, home was wherever Wyatt and Gabby were because she couldn't see herself falling back into the same innocent contentment of being hovered over by her parents. She could no longer feel at home with them. Her heart lay at Wyatt's feet and that's where her home started. She couldn't even imagine how her mother was going to react to meeting Gabby. Her thought trailed to a halt as one half of the door swung open.

  “Miss Bass!” the doorman exclaimed his face turning a pasty shade.

  “Master Vernon,” she laughed, happy to see the man who'd been taking care of her family and their home from long before she'd been born. Her brows knitted as the man only paled more and his countenance became statue-like.

  “Who's at the door?” another familiar voice asked and Raine’s heart shook at the sound of Nanny.

  The door was pried from the doorman's fingers when he didn't shift and a tiny, rotund woman appeared. “You're acting as if you've seen a ghost,” she chastised. “Let our guest in.”

  “I have,” Master Vernon murmured as she frowned upon him.

  “What?” she asked, confusion clouding her expression. Then she decided that the visitor was more important than her partner's flabbergasted appearance and so she turned enough in order to greet the guest. Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open as whatever greeting she had planned dried up on the tip of her tongue.

  “Madam Vernon,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  “Raine,” the older woman breathed. “This is not possible; you're dead,” she continued.

  “I know,” Raine whispered back. “But it's really me,” she breathed. “The girl who loved when you read her bedtime stories even at sixteen,” she said shakily before swallowing some of the tears that couldn't escape her lids fast enough.

  “My Raine,” she sobbed as she reached out with withered, weathered hands to cup her wet face. “It's really you,” she wept before pulling the younger woman into a tight hug. It was a long minute before she pulled back and slapped her husband on his forearm jarring him into action. “Vernon, our girl is back home!” she exclaimed not caring about the finer details.

  Without pomp or poise, she dragged both of them inside and closed the massive oak door before leading her to the front sitting room.

  “Ricky, get Master Bass!” she instructed as the man stood there staring at her as if he wasn't sure what his eyes were showing him. Her words seemed to jar him into action and he nodded frantically before moving in the direction of the office.

  She didn't know what he told her father but he came hurrying into the sitting room as if the president had been waiting for him. When he saw her, however, he slammed to a stop and his expression changed before it shuttered.

  “Richard and Miriam, please, give us a moment,” he stated, his voice ringing out with finality.

  Neither worker hesitated but Miriam did look at him strangely.

  But Raine did remember that Skipp Bass had never been one to show affection but the coldness in his eyes had her heart clenching.

  “What are you doing here, Raine?” he questioned as he leaned against his leather chair.

  Confusion caused her brows to pull together because she couldn't understand what he meant and she expressed that. “What?”

  “I'm sure you heard me; why are you here?” he repeated, his voice icy.

  “I don't understand what you mean,” she stated, swallowing shakily as the shutters started coming up around her heart.

  He straightened into a military stance, his eyes hard. “Does Stephano know that you're here?”

  Raine’s whole life flashed before her eyes. “You knew I was with Stephano?” she gasped.

  “Of course; you were part of my trade into Senate and then Presidency.”

  Her heart literally stopped at everything that meant. “Does Mom know about this?” she questioned not even bothering to try to tug at his heartstrings. Skipp had been a cold-hearted bastard from the beginning. Her eyes roamed behind him as if looking for someone and he quickly cut her down.

  “Kerry-Ann is dead,” he stated frankly, barely any emotion passing through his eyes.

  “Mama,” she breathed her eyes stinging. “When?” she questioned, her hand shaking as she lifted it to her chest.

  “She killed herself after they pronounced you dead. She’d been off her rockers from when you’d gone missing but she took it harder than I thought she would,” he muttered nonchalantly. “She was weak, to begin with.”

  Anger flared bright and hot inside her at his attitude and the antique vase that she'd once been so afraid to touch, shattered into a trillion tiny pieces beside his head. “She was your wife!” she spat. She couldn't even bare to stop and think of the reason her mother was no longer amongst the living but she had to point one fact out even as Master Vernon burst through the door with a look of panic on his face. “She died because of you!” she shouted, her voice heavy with grief.

  “Richard, leave!” he snapped and the other man straightened up as if he wanted to argue but his wife pulled him away and shut the door.

  “Go back to Stephano, Raine,” he suggested. “Even though I'll have his head for breaking his end of the bargain,” he continued, not caring about the huge impact of his words. “There is nothing for you here.”

  “I will gladly leave,” she growled as she tucked her purse under her arm before marching up to him. Her palm slammed against his chest, depositing the bug Wyatt had given her before she stepped back. His green eyes were wide with surprise. “But trust me,” she continued. “Your day of reckoning is coming soon.”

  “Not if Stephano wants to keep his position,” he stated haughtily.

  Laughter bubbled from her lips because his security to Presidency was now dead. “Good luck with that,” she chuckled as she exited the house with her whole life shattered.

  ∆∆∆

  Wyatt bit his lip as he forced his muscles to relax even though he wanted to march into the house and beat Bass to a pulp. His career had been more important to him than even the wellbeing of his family. He tried to cool his features, knowing that she didn't know that she'd been bugged too. The right cops would be happy with this recording.

  Raine came out of the house like a storm. He saw the shudder tear through her body as she neared the car and his fist tightened on the roof. Without a fiber of hesitation, he moved towards her and she stumbled as she saw him as if it shocked her that he was there.

  “Honey,” he murmured, his voice laced with sympathy.

  She tripped once more and he caught her before everything he'd gotten her to swallow on the way over splashed against his boots.

  “Take a breath, Raine,” he soothed. “Breathe; you'll get through this,” he encouraged as he wiped her mouth before bundling her into the car. He looked towards the sitting room, mindful of the curtain that shifted as she sank into the seat and he vowed that he'd take Bass apart piece by painful piece. “Breathe, baby,” he murmured as he ran around the bonnet and slid behind the wheel. Her eyes barely glanced his way and he wondered if mentally she there.

  That’s how she sat, in utter silence, as he drove he
r back to the cabin. As he watched her, he hesitated to tell her that he'd place a recording device on her person so that he could've ensured that she was safe and that that very recording could come in handy later. But he couldn't say a word, not until she felt like talking to him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “Love is giving someone the power to destroy you… but trusting them not to.”

  —Unknown

  “Raine,” he murmured as he lay beside her fetal figure. They’d gotten to the safe house then she'd shed her clothing before climbing into the bed. She’d been there now for almost two hours; no food, no sounds, no movement. He stroked her wild curls that were scattered across the fluffy pillows, trying to get a rise out of her but she didn't even shift. “Honey, talk to me,” he pleaded.

  Her face burrowed only deeper into the pillow and her voice came out extra muffled when she spoke. “She’s dead,” she muttered and his brows pulled together as for a second he became confused.

  “Who?” he questioned delicately.

  Her muscles tensed as she gathered the courage to speak. “My mom,” she sobbed.

  He sighed heavily as he carefully brushed back her hair before scooping her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he tightened his hold on her.

  At first, she melted into his frame but then she stiffened as she realized something; there was no surprise in his voice. “You knew!” she whispered as she leaned back to look into his face with tear-filled eyes.

  His heart squeezed in response to her pain. “It wasn’t my place to tell you,” he sighed and her eyes flashed. He watched as something dark came over her features.

  “You find it comfortable enough to make your bed between my legs but to tell me that my mother is dead is too personal a feat for you?” she demanded.

  His body stiffened at her words. “Raine—” he started but she cut him off.

  She pushed to the edge of his thighs and he felt the galaxy move between them. “You sat there and listened to me getting more and more excited to see my mother—” Her voice cracked causing him to flinch. “How sick are you?” she breathed. Her skin flushed as anger rolled off her in waves.

  “Don’t, Raine,” he pleaded as her eyes changed and he knew what was coming even before she opened her mouth.

  “You’re just like your brother.”

  Even though he had braced himself for it, it still felt like she had taken a heated blade to his chest. His hands fell numbly to his sides as she sprang out of his lap to pace to the other end of the room.

  “If that’s how you show love, you can keep it!”

  Somehow, above everything else, that was what took him out. He rose stoically to his feet a shutter over his eyes and suddenly he became the Wyatt who existed before she had come along. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She froze as he straightened to his full height before moving towards the room’s door. “Where are you going?”

  “Does it matter?” he questioned nonchalantly, his whole demeanor cold. “You need space to grieve. Evidently, you don’t need me,” he stated calmly though his insides were tearing apart.

  ∆∆∆

  Wyatt knocked back another glass of aged whiskey as he monitored Raine struggling with a fussy Gabby as she demanded for him to tuck her in. With a flick of his wrist, he disconnected the audio and video before telling Sandy to keep him updated. Instantly, his cell rung and he straightened in the chair. “Did something happen?” he demanded as his gut twisted.

  “Why aren’t you at the house and you’re handing over the monitoring to me?” she questioned.

  “I need a breather,” he stated honestly.

  “You guys had a fight,” she said in the form of a statement and not a question.

  “You heard,” he murmured.

  “No,” she answered. “But both of you are acting as if the fabric of the universe has been ripped apart,” she sighed across the line. “Raine’s eyes are constantly red as if she’d been crying a bucket and you’ve disappeared.”

  “I’m still close enough to not cause a breach in security,” he stated flatly.

  “I know you enough to know that you wouldn’t put them at risk,” she sighed. “But whatever this is, you need to rectify. I hate to say it but you’re both miserable—”

  “Sandra, she needs space and so do I,” he stated candidly before severing the call. As soon as he did, Trent’s name floated across the screen. With a swipe of his finger, he connected the call across time and space. “Please, don’t tell me that she called you,” he grumbled.

  “What are you talking about?” Trent questioned. “And why do you sound as if the rug has been pulled from under you?”

  “Because it has,” he answered and he gulped down the fiery liquid, enjoying the burn as if settled in his stomach.

  “First fight?” Trent inquired, his voice laced with sympathy.

  “And the last—”

  “Wyatt,” Trent sighed in exasperation but Wyatt butted in before he could continue.

  “I don’t think I can invest in a relationship for the long haul,” he stated frankly.

  “We both know that you can,” he said softly. “You’re just not willing to try—”

  “And who made you my therapist?” he demanded bitterly.

  “Our friendship of ten years and if you keep on acting like an idiot then I’ll have to forgo babysitting Ignacio and come whip you into shape.”

  Wyatt’s lips pressed together in irritation.

  “You can’t afford to let a good woman go,” he stated calmly.

  “She was never mine to begin with,” he breathed before severing that call as well. Placing the personal cell on a ‘Do not disturb’ mode, he rocked back in the chair, bringing it back onto its hind legs as he watched the sun hide behind the rolling hills. He lifted the crystal towards it in a mock salute. “To a crappy hand of life’s cards.”

  ∆∆∆

  “A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary.”

  —Dorothy C. Fisher

  Wyatt rolled over and looked at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. He knew that he should tap into the safehouse's feed and ensure that they were alright but he couldn’t handle that right now. Either way, if anything happened, he’d have known already. He had been concerned about her increased temperature and heart rate but he knew that it might just be that she too was stressing. He bit his lip as he tried to fight the urge to check her vitals again as concern gripped him.

  “You’re a hopeless case, Coleman,” he breathed to the ceiling before his right hand shot out to grab his cell.

  Before he could open her file, his mother’s picture popped up on the screen.

  With another rush of air between his lips, he answered her call. “Mom.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you!” she shouted down the line and he cringed at her tone.

  “You’re going to need to go to confession for that, Ma,” he stated flatly.

  “Hell is in the Bible!” she hissed.

  “Not to be used in that manner—”

  “Stop detracting from the point, Wyatt!” she snapped. “You know why I called.”

  “Sandra called you is my guess,” he grumbled.

  “It’s rare that you find a woman who knows that she doesn’t belong with you but tries to ensure that you don’t throw away the woman that does,” she admits. “I have to give it up to that girl.”

  “She far from a girl and she’s meddling where she shouldn’t,” he bit back.

  “Wyatt Reuben Coleman!” his mother roared and he recoiled as if he was three years old and being reprimanded. In essence, he was but he was too damn grown to let his mother interfere in something he knew was not going to work out.

  “Mom, please, let’s not fight over this,” he pleaded, already tired from a restless night.

  “Sandra said that she’s not doing too well.”

  “It’s nothing a little sleep won’t cure,” he supplied nonchalantly even thoug
h his muscles were now locked taut.

  “She’s not keeping anything down…”

  He sat up on the plush bed and leaned against the antique headboard. “That’s because she’s hasn’t been eating properly because she was so nervous and I’m betting that she has continued the fast into today—”

  “You need to go and take care of her,” she commanded.

  “Sandra has it covered enough if she has time to call everyone else,” he grumbled.

  “Wyatt…”

  “I need some space to breathe,” he said simply and his mom sighed in defeat.

  “Just don’t think yourself out of happiness,” she urged him kindly.

  “Get some rest, Mom,” he answered softly. “It’s still early.”

  “I love you, Wy,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he answered as she disconnected the call. He pressed his fingers against his eyes trying to rub away the pressure that was building up behind them that would soon turn into a headache. “I know.”

  ∆∆∆

  Vince stilled his movement as a familiar ringtone belched from his cell. His jaws flexed as she whimpered beneath him as he reached for the device.

  “Ignacio,” he answered.

  “Get your part out of that drugged up girl and get your butt on the next flight to New Mexico,” he stated frankly.

  Vince’s teeth grounded together even more as she complained beneath him. With a hand to the back of her neck, he pressed her face into the mattress aggressively. “I have business in South Florida still,” he contradicted.

  “Are you forgetting who calls the shots here?” he questioned coldly and the younger man bit his tongue in order not to answer the way he wanted to because if it was left up to him, he wouldn’t be the head of anything for much longer. All Ignacio was doing was wasting resources on a dead woman and creating more war amongst their rival gangs than the rookies could handle. No doubt the police would soon become deeply involved.