On a huff, she gestured between them. “Will, Pierce. Pierce, Will.”
“Seriously?” Will glanced back at her, his expression annoyed. “You’re just going to introduce us like we’re having brunch? Mimosas and a side of murder?”
She stepped away from the heat of Will’s back and the protection she was grateful for but ultimately didn’t need. Pierce was a lot of things—intimidating, dangerous, deadly when he wanted to be. That he’d never truly succeeded in keeping her at a distance was one of the reasons she liked him . . . and felt sorry for him. As lonely as she’d been the last eighteen months, God only knew what it was like for Pierce. Or how long he’d been on his own.
Long enough that at some point, he’d convinced himself that friends were unnecessary, loneliness comfortable, and ruthlessness a currency on which he could trade.
It would amuse him, and he’d call her a fool, but Cooper wasn’t afraid of him.
“He just killed two people, Cooper,” Will said.
“A great loss, I’m sure.” Pierce sneered. “A doctor who uses people as lab rats and a man employed by a company that does far worse.”
She sighed and rubbed her temples. She felt like she’d been tossed in the dryer with a dozen rocks and been left to tumble dry. She didn’t have it in her to take any more hits. And she didn’t have the energy to go two rounds with Pierce.
“I trust him,” she told Will.
“You shouldn’t,” Pierce offered, the warning familiar and the delivery easy. Between them, it practically passed for hello and goodbye. “And I killed nine men on this property—but who’s counting?” He grinned, his deep dimples the parentheses around a mouth predisposed to stirring up trouble.
“Hello, love.” He grasped her by the shoulders, pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then leaned back and shot Will a grin. “Glad you’re keeping better company these days, though I see you’re still clinging to that stubborn streak.” He brushed a thumb across her cheek like he was removing a smudge of soot. “It’s going to get you killed one of these days.”
“That a threat?” Will barked.
Pierce chuckled. “Seems you inspire what you so freely give,” he said on a whisper meant only for her. “I’m rather glad. I worried, leaving you with him.” That, of course, he said loud enough for Will to hear.
Cooper shrugged him off. God, he was a pain in the ass.
“I’m no threat to her,” Will snarled. “Can you say the same?”
“As I continually remind your better half, everyone’s a threat, Mr. Bennett—even you.”
“The hell I am.”
“No?” Pierce asked, and Cooper’s temples turned the dial up from throbbing beat to war drum.
Great. The merc and the operative were getting ready to whip ’em out and measure.
Pierce pulled his gun and had it aimed at Will in the same breath it took Cooper to slide between them.
“Pierce,” she snapped.
“See?” he said, pulling the barrel down and tucking the Glock away again. “Dangerous. Because she cares about you. Insisted on pulling you out of Colombia when I told her to cut her losses”—he smirked—“and cut off your fingers. We’d have managed at the bank with just your prints, but oh no, she wouldn’t hear of it. Ever wonder what that cost her?” Pierce asked.
Cooper cringed when Will settled both hands on her shoulders. “What’s he talking about?”
She shrugged him off. “Pierce arranged an extraction—”
“She asked so nicely.” He smiled.
“He’s the one who treated you. He’s a doctor, apparently—”
“Surgeon,” Pierce corrected.
“Certainly has the ego for it,” Will muttered, then turned to Pierce. “Why help her at all? You could have just said no.”
“True.” Pierce inclined his head. “And under different circumstances, I might have simply cut my losses. But she refused to leave you and she was still useful. So. Here we are.”
“Useful?” Cooper asked woodenly, trying to force the edges of the puzzle together. She’d contacted Pierce, not the other way around. Called in her favor and finally let him off the hook.
But that didn’t make her useful.
The tropical breeze blowing off the water turned cold. What was he doing here? What was she missing?
“Feel free to thank me.” Pierce rolled his neck, the vertebrae cracking. “Saving your life was no easy thing. Not a true test of my abilities, but a welcome challenge.” He tilted his chin and stared at Will. “You do look remarkably improved since I last saw you. Suppose that means the good doctor over there was telling the truth.”
“How much did you hear?” Cooper asked.
“Enough to ensure we both got what we came for,” Pierce said with a shrug. “I could afford to allow Dr. Mitchell a final confession.”
“How gracious of you,” Will said, his voice hard and judgmental. “It doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”
“Not really,” Pierce said and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Just another day. Another kill,” Will said. “How many is that? Do you even know?”
Something in Pierce changed. The muscle at his jaw flexed and his fingers twitched. He stilled, calm and cold and calculating locking over him like armor. For the first time, Cooper saw Pierce as everyone else did. Frigid. Uncompromising. Ruthless.
But she saw something else, too. Something that made her think he’d hardened to the point of breaking.
That one good strike to the right place would shatter him. Whether it’d set him free or tear him apart for good, she couldn’t be sure.
“I remember every life I lost on my table,” Pierce grudgingly admitted, his voice scalpel sharp. “And I remember the face or name of every single person I’ve killed since then, including the eight thugs Atlantic Insurance hired to guard Mitchell. Can you say the same?”
Behind her, Will tensed, but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t, and everyone in the room knew it. It was the nature of their jobs—sometimes he and Cooper had solid, detailed intelligence. And other times shit went sideways, decisions were made in seconds, and lives were lost—or saved—in heartbeats.
“The kills I made were in service of my goals,” Pierce said, his gaze pointed. “No one else’s. When I pull the trigger or bury the knife, I know what it’s all for. If you could say the same, she’d never have had to rescue you in the first place.”
“That’s enough,” Cooper snapped, glaring at Pierce. “And just for the record, you pompous prick, there were multiple layers of authentication at the bank. Fingerprints alone would have gotten us through the door . . . and either shot in the vault or arrested.”
“What layers?” Open curiosity, there and gone just as fast, hobbled Pierce. Cooper couldn’t remember a time she’d ever seen him openly want something. It added a dimension to him she’d sensed, but never seen the depth of.
“A token,” she explained, “something we had to specifically describe and identify. Once that was authenticated, there was a story—one only Will would know—that went with it. Verification was done over the phone, but it was complex. It would have been impossible to fake.”
Pierce considered her for a long moment, as if he were working out a puzzle in his head, fitting tougher pieces she’d given him with others he already had.
Nerves that had only just begun to settle flared to life again. Instinct said she was standing at the precipice of a drop into deep, still waters. She just couldn’t see the edge.
“Interesting,” Pierce said slowly. “Do you still have the phone number you used?”
Cooper shook her head. “Why are you here, Pierce?”
“Completing the contract I accepted on Dr. Mitchell, of course.” He stepped over to Mitchell’s corpse, knelt and snapped several photos at an angle that was sure to capture the man’s face.
“I’d cut you in for the assistance,” Pierce added as he stood, his gazed fixed on his phone, “but I’m afraid he’s of lit
tle monetary value.” Pierce stepped over Mitchell’s corpse, then wiped the toe of his shoe against the edge of the rug, smearing it with a streak of red. “I suppose a thank you will have to suffice.”
“What are you talking about?” Cooper asked, watching with no small amount of disgust as Pierce palmed a handful of grapes from the tray of fruit on the table, as if there weren’t two dead men on the floor.
Pierce shot her an amused look. “You really have no idea, do you?”
“Obviously not.” Cooper set her jaw and folded her arms.
“I’ve been searching for Mitchell for well over a year.”
“To kill him.”
“Yes.”
“Why? You said the contract on his life wasn’t worth much.”
“I said it didn’t have any monetary value—at least not to me.” Pierce didn’t do anything so common as smile or grin, but something smug and self-righteous tugged at his mouth and added depth to a face that had weathered beyond its years. “I haven’t killed for anything so common as money in years. A three-million-dollar bounty doesn’t interest me.”
Jesus. No wonder security had been so tight around Mitchell. Million-dollar contracts were rare. It would be more than enough to entice the very best contractors . . . and the very worst. The sort of men who took hits for more than money. The ones who built their reputations on difficulty—or depravity.
“How long has his contract been open?” Cooper asked, because no way had the hit on Mitchell started out that high.
“Nearly two years,” Pierce said. “Your friends at the CIA were rather desperate to shut him up, but I think they hoped to do so discreetly.”
Which meant AI&I hadn’t just hidden Mitchell, they’d practically made him disappear, and in the process elevated him to a career-making hit. Whoever made that kill would become a legend. In that world, it was a reputation that could invite challenge, but also provide a degree of protection.
Except, the man who’d made the hit was already legendary in his own right. Pierce had a Teflon-coated reputation for efficiency, accuracy, and brutal honesty. If he said he was going to do something, he did it. And he damn well expected the same of the party backing the contract.
None of which explained why he’d taken this job.
“I do hope whatever’s on that computer is compelling, Cooper. Now that Mitchell’s gone, focus will shift.”
“What are you saying?” Will asked.
Pierce raised an eyebrow. “I should think it’s obvious—Mitchell was the CIA’s number one loose end. With him gone, they’ll move on to number two . . .” He pinned Cooper with a hard stare. “You were merely an inconvenience, love. An annoyance, but one to be dealt with when time and resources allowed. You knew little and could prove less. You weren’t a threat.” He slid his gaze from her to the computer and back again. “Until now.”
“I’ve been living under a contract for over a year. Maybe it’s not worth three million dollars—”
Pierce shook his head, a laugh, low and vicious, rumbling out of his throat like a warning.
“It always amazes me, Cooper, that even after everything, you could remain so naive.” His laughter died, and his expression turned sober. “It’s one of the reasons I like you,” he admitted, his voice edging toward something sad and resigned and layered with experience, “even though I know better. Affection only ever leads to grief, and I would grieve for you, Cooper, for whatever that’s worth to you.”
Cooper went still, and for the first time since she met him, Pierce felt every inch the lethal assassin she knew him to be. She stepped back and straight into Will, who stood behind her like a sentinel.
“I’m not here for you, Cooper.” Pierce’s eyes softened, and a line appeared between his brows.
He’d warned her, over and over and over again, not to trust him. Not to trust anyone. But he looked both hurt and surprised—with himself, she imagined—that for even a moment, she’d been afraid of him.
Cooper reached for Will’s hand and loosely linked her fingers with his.
“I’m not here for him either,” Pierce promised.
Cooper swallowed past the fear that had risen in her throat. She believed him, and yet, the anxiety remained.
“Then why are you here?” she asked.
Pierce’s phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “For what I was promised,” he said, staring at the screen. “For this information. For her.”
Given his general predilection for gloating, Cooper expected a smug smile or a smart remark. Instead, Pierce’s face went soft and open, his expression almost reverent, and for a split second, Cooper looked back in time. Saw the man Pierce had once been, before his life, and the cost of living it, had caught up with him.
He locked the screen, put his phone back in his pocket, and stepped right back into the role he’d carved for himself.
“As I said, thank you. I couldn’t have found Mitchell without you.”
“How did you find us?” Will asked, giving voice to just one of her questions.
“Tracker in her boot,” Pierce said, nodding toward her left leg. “Another in your pack. One in the base of your rifle. I’m nothing if not thorough.” His grin was for her, but his words were most definitely for Will. “Aren’t I, love?”
The son of a bitch wore smug like a teenager who’d just discovered cologne.
“Ignore him,” she told Will. “Pierce enjoys the sound of his own voice, but his ego withers without attention.”
“You wound me.” Pierce brought a hand to his heart.
“I doubt it,” she snapped. “When did you start tracking me?”
“From the beginning, of course,” he explained. “I like to keep a ready eye on my investments.”
“Investments,” she repeatedly hollowly, as the truth, one he’d told her often, but she’d never quite believed, crashed over her in waves. “You used me. For what? To find Mitchell? You could have done that yourself.”
He laughed. “You flatter me. Atlantic Insurance hid him far too well. I could have searched for years and come up with nothing more than rumors and ghosts.”
“But you thought I could find him?” Cooper asked. “Why? I didn’t even know I was looking for him.”
“You were my dark horse, to be sure,” Pierce agreed. “It was always a long shot, but you were angry, and determined, and more than anything else, you were motivated.”
Of course. Because with Pierce it always came back to motivation.
“I knew if I got you enough information to keep you angry, to keep you hungry, that it was possible you’d find him.”
“It was a real win-win for you, wasn’t it?” Will snarled. “If Cooper didn’t find Mitchell, you were no worse off. And if she did, you got what you wanted without having to spend valuable time and resources looking for him yourself.”
“You should keep that one,” Pierce said, shooting Cooper a grin. “Lethal and smart—there are so few of us.”
“You said ‘got’ me enough information,” Cooper said, her thoughts racing as she sorted through her entire history with Pierce. “So every time you brought me a rumor or a tip, or some file you procured—”
“All thanks to your friends at the CIA. It wasn’t easy, but I was able to convince my contact you were more asset than threat. It took some work—they preferred I simply put a bullet in the back of your head—but they came around. Gave me enough information to keep you going. Keep you—”
“Motivated,” she finished for him.
“Yes.”
“Jesus. Why didn’t you just offer her up on a silver platter and save yourself the trouble?” Will stepped around Cooper, his body tense and vibrating, as if one more word, one more confession would send him over the edge.
When she glanced at Pierce, she took another step closer to that cliff herself. “Oh God—you did, didn’t you?” She searched his face for a lie or regret or shame or simple shock that she’d accuse him of such a thing. Instead, she found nothing at
all. “Why?”
“Did you presume to be the only one in this game who’d lost something?” Pierce asked, his voice tight and angry. “The only one who’d been betrayed?” He took a step toward her and stopped when Will put his arm out. “Look at how far you’ve gone to save a man who wants to kill you.”
“He’s—”
“Your friend,” Pierce agreed with a nod. “I know. Now imagine he was something more. Imagine he was everything.” Pierce stalked closer, and this time, he ignored Will’s warning to stop. “Now imagine, Cooper, that someone took him from you. Permanently. Irrevocably. Brutally.” He stared at her, his green eyes hardened chips of jade. “Consider everything you’ve done to save Cole,” Pierce whispered. “And ask yourself how far you’d go to avenge him.”
Though her heart hurt for him, she shook her head. “There are lines I won’t cross, Pierce. I can’t.”
“I thought so, too,” he said softly. “Until I’d crossed them. Until what lay beyond them was more important that what lay behind.”
“I’m not you,” she whispered and willed herself to believe it. That when the time came, she’d step back instead of plow forward.
“No, love,” he said with a sad smile. “You’re not. Go home, Cooper,” he said, turning away from her. “You heard Mitchell; your friend is beyond help. Whatever’s on that computer—it’s enough to take down every single person responsible for what happened to Cole. What happened to you. This is your ticket home. Don’t waste it.”
“Would it really have been so easy for you?” she asked when he started to walk away.
Pierce turned to look at her. “Once, it would have. And that’s the difference between us. If the CIA had been willing to trade this information”—he held up his phone—“for your life, I’d have struck that deal.” Pierce smiled. “Lucky for us both, they simply didn’t think you worth it.”
“Just like that? My life for information. Like it was easy. Like I was nothing.”
“Yes—and push come to shove, you’d have done the same.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” Pierce slid the phone back into his pocket. “Look at everything you’ve done up to this point. Every contract you accepted, every life you took—you made compromises, too. And if you don’t stop, if you don’t go home, you’re going to keep making them.” Pierce caught her gaze and held it. “Ask yourself now, while you have the time and the space to truly consider it—what are you willing to risk? What price you’re willing to pay. Is it worth your life?”
Fearless (Somerton Security Book 3) Page 22