Page 13 of Rivals & Revenge

The phone I got off one of the hitters from the grove was clean save for a picture of Tierney and a pre-programmed phone number that traced back to an endless loop of burner phones. Seemingly a dead end, but I had my tech guy tearing it apart just tobe sure.

Her phone had been far more interesting, leading me to the last place I would have expected to find a lead: the broker.

The broker was meant to be a neutral party. Their only roles were arranging jobs, finding a hitter or hitters who have the skill level necessary for the target, and, of course, collecting and distributing payments when the job was finished.

“Tonight. Nine-thirty. Balder’s Grove. Blades only.” the text had read; short and sweet.

It wasn’t unheard of for clients to want to control at least some aspects of the job, but hitters at our level bristled at the restrictions.

When some mousy housewife wanted to off her husband, in most cases she could do it herself, or if necessary, she could hire literally anyone to help with that.

Now, when world leaders and the filthy rich played chess and wished to knock pieces off the board by taking out foreign dignitaries, celebrities or one of the royals, that’s when they called me. Well, someone at least close to my skill level—like Tierney.

When you take out a top tier hitter, however, you either find the best and offer them triple, or you send an army of newbies/mid-level and hope someone gets lucky. Whoever this was definitely chose the latter.

She was barely clinging to life. Despite her spunk, she wasn’t out of the woods yet. I had taken it upon myself to stand for her until she was well enough to be properly offended for herself.

For now, though, I was more than capable of looking into the matter on my own. Even if I found myself reticent to snoop through her belongings, yet another thing that annoyed me about this whole endeavor, there was still plenty to work with.

Apollo scratched at the door, dragging me from my reverie, and I turned to him, arching my brow. His tail thumped heavily against thehardwood, completely oblivious to my annoyance, as he turned back, offering me an impatient whine.

“Fucking spoiled ass mutts,” I muttered to the empty room as I made my way to the door.

Zeus sounded like a horse as he scrambled to find his feet and make it to the back door, lest Apollo be the first one out.

I opened the door, my feet doing their familiar shuffle, avoiding the dogs as they rushed through the open door for their evening run.

Following them into the yard, I embraced the autumn chill against my face, my eyes searching the fading sunlight for an answer to her question. “Why?” But the only reply from the taciturn sky was “mine”.

I moped around in the yard, occasionally kicking leaves out of my path, my eyes repeatedly finding their way back to the empty front step. The irony of my longing to find another white rose was not lost on me.

The lads danced at the edge of the sparse copse of red fir trees that grew in the eastern yard. Both feeling their youth, they had chosen to taunt the murder of crows that had taken up residence there.

I whistled sharply, their ears perking up at the familiar call. Two more sharp, quick trills rang out, and they bolted for the door. Always racing, everything a good natured competition between the two.

My toes barely danced out of the way before they came barreling through the open door, their heavy tails slapping against the dining room chairs as they passed by.

Strolling to the kitchen and flipping the water on, my mind kept returning to the feisty blonde sleeping two rooms away. The fear painted across her face. Her lips twisted with disgust, which I knew from experience, wasn’t directed at me, but at herself for allowing a weakness.

I needed to keep her hidden—safe while I figured out what was going on and who wanted her dead. She needed to stay here, whether she liked the idea or not.

Cold water from the open tap splashed against the overflowing bowl, spraying tiny droplets of water across the front of my shirt.

“Shit!” I cursed, spinning the knob that turned off the water.

“You know better than to let yourself get distracted.” I murmured to myself, sitting the water bowl on the floor for the lads.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I sank into my favorite chair, the supple leather far more comfortable than the torture device I’d spent nearly a week sitting in, waiting for her to wake.

I need her to feel safe here. I thought to myself, scoffing internally as soon as the words formed in my mind. “Safe.”The way a lamb would feel safe in the den of a lion.

Inspirations struck, sending me to my feet. I knew exactly what would make me feel safe. Well, safer at least. She was still living under the roof of a rival she had no real reason to trust and I knew that trust wasn’t something that came easily to either of us.

Hell, it wasn’t like I was ready to lay all my cards on the table, either. But maybe, maybe I could give back a little of the power that was stolen from her in that grove.

I toed off my shoes, my feet silent against the hardwood floor as I crept toward her room. The drugs Connor gave her should keep her under for a few more hours at least, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

The moment her door snicked shut behind me, my eyes found her karambits in the darkened room.

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