Page 36 of No Control

I just have to hope his humanity doesn’t overpower his loyalty. It’s another reason I take care of the groundwork. He’s better with all the coverup.

“Also," Jude says from behind me, "I created a digital trail for Mason. The cleanup crew took his phone to Vermont. He’s got some old college friends in that area, and they took it to a bar. Created a video of him going into a bar and leaving. You know the drill.”

I nod as I descend the steps and open the garage door. “I knew there’s a reason I keep you around.”

“Here’s the address for tonight.” Jude pulls out his phone and sends it to my phone. “The guy has a wife and kids.”

I frown. “How old are the kids?”

“Teenagers,” Jude rattles off. “They’re not around much. From what I gather, home life isn’t so great. The oldest daughter is nineteen, in college, and living away. The youngest girl is seventeen. She spends a lot of time at her boyfriend’s house.”

“And the wife?”

“No idea. She’s never out and about. No socials. She stays home all the time. There’re rumors floating around that he won’t let her leave.”

“Wonder if she ordered this,” I muse. I love it when the wives of abusers have the funds to take them out. It makes my job all the more enjoyable.

“No idea. Good luck though.”

I give his shoulder a squeeze and head for my black Mercedes SUV. It’s not really my type, but it’s the best way not to stand out. I have other cars for that. “Don’t be late picking Lydia up,” I warn him, before closing the car door.

The fucker rolls his eyes at me.

I put the car in reverse, laughing to myself. I know he’ll pick her up and do as I say, even if he gripes about it. We’re a good team, and I might have gone off the deep end with my obsession with Lydia, but it’s only going to get worse from here.

Anticipation strains against my jeans. It won’t be long, and I’ll be making her mine. I know that. There’s tension between us, and she’s going to give in. However, how soon depends on how I play the game. I need her to trust me. It’s going to take that to handle the truth when it comes to the surface.

The drive to Beverly Hills is long and grueling, the traffic annoying. I don’t like living close to the larger cities, but most of my hits don’t live out in the boonies. High-class sickos need to flash their lives in front of as many people as possible. I pull up against the curb, parking across from the stucco modern mansion. It’s charming to some degree, though maybe a little overdone.

I settle in my seat, focusing my gaze on the house. There’re so many cameras around these days that we have to switch out license plates and vehicles constantly, but it’s a low cost to pay to keep from going to jail.

Though I do have connections everywhere.

My eyes focus on the front door, but my mind drifts back to Lydia. I’ve done so well focusing on the goal of getting her to accept my offer, but now? Now all I can think about is those glassy emerald eyes, taunting the evil in me. I want to rip her to shreds.

And I hope like hell I didn’t underestimate her.

I won’t know until I can get closer to her, learn her soul and what makes her pretty mind tick with so many dark images. My mind pictures her beneath me, but that fades as the front door opens of the Carlson residence.

Out steps my target.

Bart Carlson.

“What a name,” I mumble as I watch him, dawning a tuxedo as he heads toward the Lamborghini in the driveway. I peer at the ajar front door, expecting someone else to join him. However, when a blonde woman clad in a pair of flannel pajamas pulls the door, I see exactly why people think what they do.

She looks rough.

And even from the distance I’m sitting at now, I can see the light bruising on her cheek. I shake my head. Who knows what else this guy is into.

He looks back at her, gesturing something that’s too easy to interpret.

Go back inside.

Carlson looks around, a concerned expression on his face.

Yeah, I saw it, dipshit.

And if I wasn’t so excited for my guest to arrive, I would take care of him right now. But I’ll have to wait until he’s not going anywhere. It’s better if they’re not missed for a while. That always complicates things.

---