SCRATCH (Corporate Hitman Book 2)

by Linden, Olivia

  This time it didn’t smell like vanilla and lavender, a scent he’d definitely decided belonged to the incomparable Agent Monica Tidwell. She was a firecracker, to say the least. And what woman wasn’t sexier when she extended the chase? He’d have to try again, of course. Could be fun. He never had a problem playing with fire. He was the one that did the burning.

  When the elevator doors opened silently to Eagle’s all white floor in his office, Scratch went into the zone. He passed the receptionist with a flirtatious smile and a wink before slipping back further into the office. She wouldn’t be there for long. Eagle had a tendency to rotate his receptionists like boxers so they couldn’t get too familiar with anyone who came in and out of here. As he entered the second set of doors, he was in his office. The bastard didn’t even turn around at first. No, instead he made Scratch wait while he ran a hand over his salt-n-pepper hair to keep it neat and then fixed his cuffs. Scratch counted to ten, and then counted again.

  Eagle knew Scratch had issues with his anger. It was why he’d liked him as the moneyman. Scratch could charm the pants off anything, but could beat said pants off with the same ease. So Scratch knew that Eagle was playing on that anger right now—seeing if he could twist him up. Scratch was as used to playing that game as he was running interference between Eagle and Glitch. Such was life. After a while though, he was tired of fucking waiting and turned to leave.

  “Did you come here to waste my time by staring at me?” Eagle asked. Scratch smirked before turning around. I win.

  “I want to know why I have anything to do with this Federal investigation.”

  “Because I said so.”

  “Not good enough, Eagle. I have nothing to do with these accounts. They aren’t even tied to other work I’ve done for you. It would make sense to have the accountant that handled these deal with the agents directly.”

  “Inzio Vikhrov, son of Kolya Vikhrov and Caterina Sanchristo, sentenced to twenty-five years under RICO law.”

  “I know my name, who my parents are, and what I was sentenced with,” Scratch said through clenched teeth.

  “Upon your release from prison it was understood,” Eagle continued as if Scratch never interrupted, “that you would work for me, for an indefinite amount of time, and you would disappear from all systems. Did I make the wrong decision in choosing you?”

  “What?” Scratch asked, for a moment unsure where the hell was going with this. Had he made the wrong decision? Hell no. Scratch didn’t deserve to take the rap for shit he hadn’t done. He’d been dirty, yeah, but he hadn’t done what he’d gone to prison for.

  “No, Eagle, you didn’t make the wrong choice.”

  “Did I give you the impression that you could question me?”

  “I didn’t think I was just your lap dog, if that’s what you’re asking me,” Scratch blurted before he could stop himself. Yeah, anger leaked out just a little bit on that.

  “Lap dog, employee, my property, whatever you want to call it, they all fit.” Scratch stared at him, irritated beyond belief.

  “I see,” Scratch hissed.

  “But do you understand, is the question?” Eagle returned.

  “Yes, sir,” Scratch bit out.

  “Then listen closely, because I will only say this once. I don’t give a damn if you haven’t even seen numbers before. If I tell you to do a job in accounting, that’s what you do. If I tell you to screw every woman in this building by Friday, that is what you’ll do. And,” Eagle said, stepping right up to Scratch, looking him square in the eye, “if I want you to work with the Feds then that’s what you’ll do because you don’t want to go back to prison. Or worse.”

  Scratch clenched his fist, trying to hold on to the anger. Trying to bank his need to pound Eagle’s face in until it was nothing but mush. That would make him feel much better. Unfortunately, the son of a bitch was right. Part of the agreement to get out of prison was to do whatever Eagle told them to do, no matter how dark and nasty. They all knew it. Oh the look on that motherfucker’s face when they finally got the hell out of there would be priceless to see...if they got out.

  “I’ll make sure I’ll have the files ready for Agent Tidwell as soon as possible,” Scratch forced himself to say. He was even prouder that he got that out with a smile, and marginal joviality in his voice.

  “Good. I’m glad we’ve had this conversation. Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Hines.”

  With that, Scratch was summarily dismissed. He choked on his anger on his way back to the elevator and back to his office. He held it in, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He closed his door as smoothly as possible before leaning against. He needed out. He needed to punch something, anything. He needed to yell and tear things apart. That fucking asshole! They didn’t mean a fucking thing to Eagle. He went and sat down at his desk with a curse.

  It reminded Scratch of his family. Of the ones that put him in that hell of a prison just so they could get off squeaky-clean. They’d used him too. Made him do jobs, get into the life his father had led, even though he’d tried to keep his nose clean for his mother. She hadn't cared for violence or crime. He’d learned later that when she’d found out what his father had done, she ran. His father had known where she was the whole time, of course. But his father followed the ponyatia, or the code of conduct, for vory. As a leader in a Russian mafia family he had no choice. And that meant his mother had been protected as one of his women, and Scratch was his child. But, most of all, what saved them both was the rule to teach youth the criminal way of life. Who better to teach than his own child?

  And so Scratch had learned to be a criminal. And later, he’d learned to keep doing criminal things to keep his mother safe...and Pristine—his half-sister by his father’s mistress. He needed her to stay safe too. When he’d gone to jail, it had been by law as well. A thief was supposed to take the rap for another who ranked higher, in order to give him time to get away. Scratch had known that, but he never believed that his father would make his own son take it, rather than another lower-level man. The betrayal had rocked him to the core. And now he was facing some pretty similar shit. His family, the guys that meant the world to him since getting out of prison, was being fucked over by the one man that was supposed to save them from this shit. Scratch had learned long ago not to trust, but this shit just took the cake.

  “Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo,” he swore, holding his head with his hands.

  “Ugly son of a bitch bastard? Who do I need to kill?” Scratch looked up to see Jack leaning against his office door.

  “You scare the shit out of me with that silent movement crap, you know that?” Scratch said with a chuckle.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Jack replied. The look in his eyes told Scratch that he meant it. Jack never played when it came to them. Never. He looked different, right now, in his double-breasted navy wool suit and black shirt. His work clothes when he had to come to the office. He didn’t wear a suit any other time. He said it constricted his movement.

  “I went to see the Eagle,” Scratch answered. Jack stood slowly, saying nothing more. They didn’t talk much about anything at work. Jack just scoffed. Scratch knew the feeling, he wished they could just kill Eagle and be done with it, but none of them had any doubt the man had a rock solid failsafe plan that would go into action if they did. They couldn't’ risk that.

  “Let it go. I have to get back to work. We can meet later at the gym,” was all Jack said before he left the office, but not before Scratch saw how Jack clenched his jaw. If Eagle sent him out on a mission anytime soon, Jack wasn’t going to be very pleasant to whoever he got his hands on.

  So Scratch took a breath, and let it go until he got out to the gym with Jack later, and then he’d let it all come out. For now he needed to get the files together for Monica, and cover his ass at the same time. For the time being, she didn’t need to see the real accounts until he knew everything there was to know about them. He may even get Glitch to help him l
ook at them and see what the hacker from the other team said too. Douglas was still shaky, but at last he’d work for them to keep Eagle from finding out he’d flipped to their side.

  Thinking of Monica, though, cooled some of his anger. Oh yes, he definitely wanted her to get a little closer. Beautiful woman. The most beautiful he’d ever seen, and he’d seen plenty. But something about the way that she was put together. The woman was perfection walking. He wondered just how perfect she’d be under him. And then he was groaning for another reason. Maybe thinking about her hadn’t been the best idea. Anger morphed too easily into desire, and the woman was hell of enough to desire.

  Yeah, he needed to blow off some steam. The sooner the better.

  Chapter 3

  The workday ended before Scratch could blink. He had enough to keep him busy, and his quest to run into Monica a few more times helped to fill in the rest of his time. He still needed to relieve some tension. Jack was already waiting for him at the gym by the time he got there.

  Stretching his arm and back muscles as he walked, he made his way over to the weight room. Jack was at the cable machine in the middle of an intensive set of bicep curls. Scratch looked at the amount of weight that his partner was pulling, and shook his head. Jack was a beast in the gym. He may be the smallest of the three, shorter than both Scratch and Glitch, but he was probably the strongest. His slim five-foot-nine frame was nothing but lean muscle. While Scratch worked hard to stay in shape, his eating and drinking habits kept him from acquiring the same level of insane fitness. Glitch worked out to stay fit, but his muscles were a work of nature and genetics. It wasn’t anything he worked at. But Jack? He was beyond just being fit. He was a walking killing machine. He worked out for strength and agility, and to make sure that every muscle on his body was in prime condition. His body could do anything he wanted it to. That’s what made him scary.

  The two men exchanged nods for a greeting, and Jack continued his set while Scratch picked up a pair of fifty-pound free weights.

  “You went to see Eagle, unannounced, today,” Jack said with hardly a pant.

  “Damn right. He’s toying with me on this one,” Scratch growled.

  “More so, than we expected?”

  “Much more. We had a meeting with the alphabet crew this morning, and he threw me another curve ball,” Scratch said through puffed breaths. Maybe he should have warmed up on the track first.

  “Besides the fact that he’s trying to pin this on you?” Jack asked the question with a slightly raised brow. They had been pretty good at anticipating Eagle up to this point, so another unplanned development was intriguing to him.

  “The main account that is being investigated comes from a contract with a security company. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Scratch went on to explain the details of the day’s events. Jack slowed down, but didn’t stop his reps as he listened intently. His ears perked up at the mention of the word security. He was the usual SME or subject matter expert for such contracts, and wondered if he had anything to do with it.

  “What’s the name of the company?” He finally got a chance to ask when Scratch stopped cursing and complaining, and took a breath.

  “TopSec,” Scratch answered.

  Jack’s blood ran colder than normal. TopSec had been a messy affair. He’d done some very nasty things to convince their COO to subcontract a big chunk of their deal with the Department of Justice to Hawk Global. Jack had a feeling that Eagle was going to cross the wrong person sooner than later. Business was business, but powerful men had big egos and a lot of pride. Being bulldozed or blackmailed out of a deal you worked hard to obtain for yourself would be hard to forget. The smaller company struggled to fulfill their requirements, left to do the heavier bulk of the workload with fewer resources. Hawk completed their subcontract with sucess, and went on to win the subsequent rebid against TopSec.

  “Shit,” Jack clipped out harshly. It was immediately clear to him why this particular contract was chosen. If the FBI dug deep enough, or talked to the right person, Jack’s head would be added to the chopping block.

  Scratch looked at the expression on Jack’s face and let loose his choicest Italian swear words. “You worked that one,” he said, already knowing the answer.

  “Remember all that time I spent in Texas? Well that’s where the COO’s lover lived. Eagle figured his wife wouldn’t be happy to learn of her husband’s ambiguous sexuality. Mathers was his name. He tried to resist, at first, until I assured him that he would lose a lot more than his family if he didn’t.”

  “Jesus,” Scratch said with a low whistle. People attributed violence and ugliness to drug dealers and thugs. That’s because they didn’t know the dirty secrets of the clean-cut suits of corporate America.

  His mind was reeling. How many layers were there to Eagle’s deceit? It wasn’t a secret that the man was thorough, but it was almost to a fault. If he weren’t trying so hard to bring them all down at once, they wouldn’t be able to connect the dots. Scratch began to see it as a good thing. He knew from experience that people made bad decisions in desperation. The pressure that had been closing in like a vice around him began to dissipate. This wasn’t something the trio couldn’t beat together.

  “Eagle, Eagle, Eagle,” Scratch said as he began to laugh. It was ludicrous to think the man hired each of them for their capabilities, but was ignoring their proven resourcefulness now that he wanted to get rid of them. For a moment he wondered if this was some sort of test. Was Eagle just trying to see how capable they were?

  “I seemed to have missed the joke,” Jack said dryly. He slowly let the cable slide back into place, and then adjusted the weight level and began to work his deltoids.

  “I’ve been so pissed off and stressed out about this whole investigation, but now that I see the level that Eagle is really working on, I feel better. In his infinite wisdom, he seemed to forget that he made us, so we think how he thinks and then add our own instincts. He’s using the same game he taught us to try and play us. That is the joke.”

  Jack grinned. It was such a rare occurrence, that Scratch laughed even harder. They had a weird friendship. Where Scratch and Glitch like to goad and tease each other like frat boys, Jack and Scratch shared a more nonverbal type of communication. Maybe it was because of their shared anger issues that Scratch was able to interpret Jack’s quiet ways. He understood not wanting to talk, but also needing companionship at the same time. There were times where all they did was play chess, or engage in a few rounds of martial arts without having any conversation. Then there were also the rare times where Jack was relaxed enough to talk about whatever issues concerned either of them, Glitch included, and he imparted his wry sense of humor. Jack wasn’t an easy person to understand, but neither was Scratch, so somehow they clicked. The three of them together were a broken band of misfits, but they forged a powerful brotherhood.

  “So tell me about the agents,” Jack said after the moment of humor had passed.

  “One male, one female. Good cop, bad cop routine. The guy, Roderick Axe, will be working with Eagle. The female, Monica Tidwell, is working directly with me.” Scratch grunted as he performed the last few arm curls before dropping the weights to the ground. He was trying to take it easy since he was still suffering the effects of a hangover, but he was still hurting. Just the light physical exertion of pumping iron was making his stomach tighten and roll with nausea.

  “Ah yes, Ms. Tidwell. That works to our advantage,” Jack said with just a slight hitch in his breathing, and Scratch secretly wanted to punch him in the face for it. He was pulling about a hundred pounds on each arm like it was nothing. Scratch had moved on to the leg press machine next to the machine that Jack was using so that they could maintain their private conversation. It was taking everything in him not to groan with every lift of his legs.

  “How so,” Scratch huffed out.

  Jack looked down at him, noticing how much Scratch was struggling for the first time. Then he shook
his head, assuming that a rough night was the reason his friend looked so worn out, but he didn’t mention it.

  “It’s obvious. She’s a woman. An attractive woman, and we know that’s right up your alley. So you keep her occupied. Twist her mind up, while I work with Glitch on the evidence you’ll be submitting,” Jack replied.

  “I was already planning to give her some busy work to keep her occupied for a few weeks to buy us some time. It will be my pleasure to keep her otherwise engaged,” Scratch said slyly.

  “I bet,” Jack shot back.

  “Then I need you to do some digging on her. I need to know what her weak points are. I already know she’s attracted to me, so the opening is there. I want to know what she’s been doing for the past ten years. Why she became a cop. Family, friends, one night stands in college. All that.”

  The request wasn’t an unusual one, but something in the details raised Jack’s suspicions. He took a hard look at Scratch, and this time he called him on it.

  “Are we digging? Or Stalking? What the fuck do you care who she slept with in college?”