As I speed off toward McClean once more, I realize that I don’t mind being uncertain, if it means that Lukas Roth will be a part of my life. For once in my life, I don’t care about what’s going to happen tomorrow, or next week, or ten years from now. I’m actually, at long last, living in the moment. And all it took was the company of a devastatingly handsome hit man and a rollicking round of super-charged sex to get me here.
I zip back to the Roth Estate, where my gloriously uncertain future awaits.
Chapter Twenty-Three
-Lukas-
After my botched meth lab bust, I’m not taking any chances this time around. My job tonight is simple—take out my assigned target, and get home to Hannah as quickly as possible. The added impetus of having someone waiting for me back at the estate only adds to my focus. Tonight’s job shouldn’t even be all the difficult. My target is some asshole detective with a soft spot for kiddie porn. All I have to do is pay him a visit, finish him off, and hit the road.
I kill the headlights of my SUV as I turn into the neighborhood of McMansions that my target calls home. I grimace at the gauche homes, their front lawns built up with tacky faux-art and even tackier landscaping. What is it about new money that breeds such terrible taste? One place I pass actually has palm trees scattered around its property—as if palm trees are a natural occurrence in fucking Virginia. It never fails to amaze me just how tasteless and oblivious some people can be.
My target’s home comes into view, and I can’t help but groan out loud. His place is absolutely ridiculous, and dripping with a load of wasted cash. The home itself is a three story block of bad architecture, pure and simple. The place looks like it was loaded off a garish mansion truck, plunked down in the middle of the property from some kind of conveyor belt. It’s always the criminals whose taste, or lack thereof, is most egregious to me. I would off this guy by virtue of the horrendous crime of building this monstrosity on American soil, for Christ’s sake. But of course, he’s done far worse things than building this shoddy excuse for a manor.
As I arm myself, I try not to dwell on the specifics of this particular case, lest I got too hot a head. My client this time around is another scorned parent—I seem to end up working for a lot of them. There’s nothing as dangerous as a parent whose child has been wronged in some way. I’d say that I’m pretty good evidence of that fact. The man I’m working for is a father whose teenage daughter has run away from home after a particularly rough childhood. She got very close to a friend of the family, when she was a kid, a man she called “Uncle Billy”.
She and Uncle Billy became very good buddies, according to her father. Uncle Billy would offer to babysit all the time, watch the girl after school, and even let her come and stay over when her parents were away on vacation. At first, it seemed harmless enough. But as time went on, the daughter’s attachment to Uncle Billy started to worry her parents. They pressed her for details about her relationship with the man, and it became pretty clear that Uncle Billy was up to no good. The daughter told her parents about the “photo shoots” she and Uncle Billy would sometimes have, and her father hit the roof.
The only problem was Uncle Billy’s day job. Thing is, the guy was—is—a cop. It was all too easy for him to cover up the things he’d done, and get the police to step off when the girl’s dad started making a fuss. Uncle Billy never had charges brought against him, and never paid for what he did to that girl, and God knows how many others.
The years went by, and she was pretty clearly scarred by the whole event. About a month ago, the girl, now sixteen, went missing. Her dad had a pretty good idea where it was she disappeared to, and decided to find some alternate means of justice. In a word, me.
Now, I’m not about to go fetch this girl back to her parents once I’ve offed the son of a bitch. I don’t even know if it’s here that she’s disappeared to. My only job is to make sure this asshole is dead, so that he can’t carry on his “photo shoots” with any other innocent kids.
I sling my rifle over my shoulder as I step out of my SUV. In a neighborhood like this, my ride won’t even seem out of place. It’s not as though anyone around here cares enough about their neighbors to act on a mysterious car circling the area. Around here, people only care about one thing—cold, hard cash. I suppose I could be accused of the same thing, charging what I do for a hit. But hey, I’ve got an estate to take care of. I suppose I’m the patriarch of my family now. The breadwinner. What a laugh.
Uncle Billy’s McMansion screams new, dirty money. Has no one wondered how a cop managed to buy this place without a profitable side business? The fucked up thing is, kiddie porn can bring in a bundle on the black market. This guy is probably rolling in cash, earned by exploiting innocent children. I would hope that he'd rot in hell after I killed him, if I believed in such nonsense as heaven and hell, that is. But the idea of God, of supreme punishment and redemption, no longer appeals to me. I decide who gets punished and who gets redeemed myself.
The tasteless manor is almost laughably easy to break into. I disable the alarms and slip in through the back patio door. Stepping into the darkened home, I can hear faint sounds coming from somewhere in the bowels of the basement. I make my way through the lightless place, following the audible clues. I can hear a man’s voice sounding from somewhere down below. Maybe Uncle Billy will be alone tonight. That would make for a nice, easy job. I locate the basement door and crack it open, slipping into the pitch black stairwell and making my way down further underground.
The basement opens up before me. A dim light glows from around the bend, just where the voice seems to be originating. I peer around the stairwell wall and spot a tall, folding divider, behind which shadows shift and move. I observe the shapes that are cast on the translucent wall and feel immediately sick to my stomach. There are two human-shaped shadows springing up before me, one huge and one much smaller. The big figure is bent over what looks to be a camera on a tripod, and the smaller figure is preening like a peacock before it. I pull my baklava down over my face, no loose ends.
“That’s right, baby,” growls a man’s voice from behind the divider. “You know how to move. You always have. Even when you were a little girl.”
“Thank you, Uncle Billy,” replies a young, airy voice. It looks like I’ve located my client’s daughter and target in one fell swoop. And in the middle of one of their photo shoots, no less. I guess my target has himself a favorite model among his stable of young, naive kids. And he’s even brainwashed her into participating on her own. This is one sick fuck I’m dealing with. Thankfully, I don’t have to try and empathize with him. I simply have to kill him.
“Do you want to play our favorite game, once we’re done with our photo shoot?” the man asks delightedly, as his camera snaps shot after shot of his young subject.
“I don’t know, Uncle Billy,” replies the girl, “You roughhoused a little too much last time. You hurt me, you know.”
“I’m sorry angel,” says the man, straightening up behind the screen and taking a step toward his model, “I’ll try and be more careful next time. I promise.”
But there isn’t going to be a next time. Not on my watch. Without speaking a word, I bring my rifle down off my shoulder and send a shot straight through the folding screen. A scream rips out through the basement as the lumbering figure of Uncle Billy pitches forward, crashing into the divider as a spray of red blood paints the air red. I watch as the man’s body bounces against the concrete floor, the whole disgusting scene revealing itself as the screen crumbles beneath him.
An expensive digital camera is aimed at the naked body of a sixteen-year-old girl. She stands beside a lavishly made bed, staring in horror at the lifeless body of the man who has abused her for so long. Her gaze darts up to mine, and pure hatred floods her eyes.
“You killed him!” she shrieks, covering herself uselessly with her hands. I avert my eyes from her nude figure, trying to give the girl back a scrap of her dignity.
“And I’
d kill him again,” I tell her, shouldering my rifle, “He’s a terrible person. He’s done terrible things to you.”
“Did my father put you up to this?” she demands, kneeling down beside the late Uncle Billy. “He never understood what Bill and I had together.”
“He started exploiting you when you were six years old,” I tell her frankly, “The only thing you had together was a delusion that he forced on you to make you complacent. It’s going to take a long time for you to see that, but I promise you that you’re better off without this monster.”
“Monster?” the girl laughs hysterically, “You just killed a man in cold blood. And Uncle Billy is the monster? I don’t think so. You’re not going to get away with this, you know. He was a cop. You’ll have the whole state of Virginia on your ass before you know it.”
“You sure do have a way with words,” I mutter, turning my back, “A simple ‘thank you’ would have done the trick quite nicely.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” the girl spits. “You think you’re the good guy here, but you’re wrong. You’re nothing but a goddamn murderer.”
“You’re entitled to your own opinion,” I sigh, walking back up the basement stairs. “Why don’t you get dressed before you call the cops, huh? Hell, you probably even have time to hide the evidence of what you were doing before they get here. That’s what Uncle Billy taught you to do, right? It’s only wrong if you get caught? That’s the law for you, though. Taking care of its own, no matter what.”
“You’re going to pay for this,” the girl snarls at me, “I’ll make sure that you pay.”
“Sounds good,” I tell her, “Look me up when you’re older. You can take a shot at me yourself, if you want.”
I see myself out of the McMansion before my client’s daughter can tattle on me. It’s a shame that screen came down, I was hoping not to reveal my presence. Still, what harm could she possibly do? Her dad will probably ship her off to a boarding school somewhere once she’s home. After all, she hasn't seen my face, and she won’t be any bother to me.
Hopping into my car, I take once last glance at Uncle Billy’s little estate. The whole thing looks even more pathetic when you know where his money’s come from. Every once in a while, I take a special pleasure in ending someone’s life. Good riddance, I say. Here’s hoping that everyone who covered up for this monster will meet a similar end.
I set off towards home, trying to shake off the case. I have a strict policy about not bringing my work home with me any more than I have to. Luckily, I’ll have plenty to distract me once I get home. Hannah will probably be asleep by now, curled up on the annex bed, resting like an angel.
What a relief it will be to get home and wrap my arms around her. When I’m holding her, nothing can get to me—not the stinging, raw pain of my mother’s death, not a grisly assignment. Nothing.
The highway flies away under my tires as I race homeward once more.
Chapter Twenty-Four
-Hannah-
I wake up from my usual vivid dreams with Lukas’s arms wrapped tightly around me once again. He must have slipped into the annex after I fell asleep. Already, it’s like we’re falling into a routine together.
Could I really get used to living with someone with a life like Lukas’s? Could I truly be OK for the long run, knowing that he’s off ending people’s lives and running for his own while I sit at home, balancing a first aid kit on my knee? For the thousandth time, I remind myself that I don’t need to think about the rest of my life all at once. One moment at a time.
Rolling over in bed, I turn to face my slumbering lover. Even in sleep, his expression is intense. His scruffy jaw clenches and unclenches as I watch him, and I wonder whether he’s plagued with nightmares the way I used to be, after Sloan and I broke up. I lift my hand and move to brush my fingers down the side of Lukas’s gorgeous face. As soon as my fingertips brush against the skin of his temple, a rush of movement takes me by surprise, and five strong fingers close around my wrist.
I feel myself being flipped onto my back and pinned, the room a blur around me. Lukas’s half-sleeping, wild eyes are an inch away from my own. He glares down at me as though he doesn’t even know who I am.
“Lukas...” I whimper, suddenly terrified, “Lukas, it’s just me.”
Recognition dawns on his perfectly-sculpted features. I watch as he wakes fully, his eyes focused on my petrified face. He rolls off from on top of me, pulling me against him in a crushing hug.
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” he says, stroking my hair.
“It-it’s OK,” I tell him, my trembling body betraying my fright, “Were you dreaming or something?”
“Yes,” he tells me, “I often do. It’s best not to wake me suddenly, Hannah.”
“Duly noted,” I say, forcing a laugh through my teeth, “Remind me to roll out of the way when the alarm clock goes off.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says, looking down into my upturned face.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, “Actually...I don’t mind in the least, having you on top of me.”
He grins, delighted by my inextinguishable want for him. “Good God Hannah,” he says, his voice rasping, “Give me a second to wake up before you try and seduce me.”
“If you insist,” I smile, slipping out from his arms. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch luxuriously. “Did everything...go OK last night?” I ask.
I can practically feel him tense up across the bed. “Yes,” he says shortly.
“I know you’re not used to talking about it,” I say, turning to him. “I don’t mean to be obnoxious.”
“No, no,” he says, “I don’t want to have any secrets from you. It’s better if you know the nature of what I do. Safer. Even my mother had a pretty good idea of what it was I got up to, those nights I spent away from the estate.”
“Gertrude knew?” I ask, surprised. I would think that she’d have put an end to Lukas’s dangerous behavior. But I suppose she was used to living with men whose lives remained constantly at risk. Lukas’s father was an assassin too, after all.
I wonder how she reconciled that with her past? After all, her father’s life had been taken by force. Why was it OK when her husband and son took others’ lives in a similar fashion? Of course, I could be asking myself the same question.
Even though I’ve spent my entire professional life trying to keep death at bay, I don’t fault Lukas for what he does. I’ve never been a believer in capital punishment or the death penalty—I truly believe that violence only begets violence. But if someone has to do the dirty work of ridding the world from dangerous, criminal monsters...I’m glad that it’s Lukas. For some reason, I trust him to be able to make the right call.
“Does Thomas know, too?” I ask Lukas.
“Oh yes,” he says, coming around to my side of the bed and resting his hands on my shoulders, “He’s very discreet, that one. And probably the only person in the world who worries about me more than Mother did.”
“We should probably go meet with him today,” I say, trailing my fingers down Lukas’s abs, “Get a move on with the planning for Gertrude’s gala.”
“He can come here,” Lukas says firmly.
“But—”
“I’m not...comfortable. Going back into that house,” Lukas tells me, “Not yet.”
“I understand,” I say, my heart clenching sympathetically.
“That place was already haunted,” he says quietly, gazing over my head, out the bedroom window. “Andrea, Peter, Charlotte...they all lived there with me, once. The walls probably still remember the sound of their laughter. And now Mother...It’s too much, Hannah.”
“You don’t have to stay there, Lukas,” I tell him, placing my hands on his tapered waist. “You could live wherever you wanted, you know.”
“No,” he sighs, “This place is my responsibility now. I can’t just let it fall into disrepair. It needs to be brought back to life. Rejuvenated.”
“But...how?”
I ask, cocking my head to the side.
He looks pointedly down into my eyes. “I have a few ideas...” he says, his eyes sparkling conspiratorially.
“Do tell,” I urge, my stomach doing somersaults. If he’s suggesting what I think he’s suggesting...
“Well,” Lukas says, kneeling down before me. I spread my knees to accommodate his frame, bringing my hands to his broad shoulders, “Ever since you arrived here, Hannah, the place has felt...new. Cheerier. It’s as if your being here has started to erase all the misfortune, all the bad memories that have kept this place cloaked in unhappiness.”
“You don’t say,” I breathe.
“I think that your presence could be just the thing for this place,” Lukas says, letting his hands trail down my bare arms.
“Is that the...only reason you want me to stick around?” I ask softly.
“No,” Lukas says, his voice gruff. “No, it’s not. I think that your being here could also have quite the positive effect on...well, me. My life. Is that terribly selfish of me to admit?”
“Maybe,” I say, “But I don’t mind. I think that my being here could have a positive effect on my life as well.”
“Really?” Lukas says, with a small smile. “You’d be...amenable to the idea of staying here?”
“It’s something we can discuss,” I say, clasping my hands behind his neck. “But not right now, OK? Let’s save the big questions for sometime after the clock has struck noon, at least.”
“Very well,” Lukas smiles, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my body against his. “What would you like to do in the meantime?”
In response, I bring my face close to his, kissing him lightly on those firm lips of his. For a moment or two, he lets me lead—but we both know it’s just a novelty. I kiss along his muscular neck, letting my hands wander down his powerful body. God, I love letting my fingers explore him.
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