Page 5 of Taking Care of the Target

She tried to think if there was more after that—if at any time she had decided to take a trip to New Jersey, of all places. Something tickled her brain. She remembered filling out college applications. Was one of them to somewhere in New Jersey? She’d filled out so many, but it was possible she’d considered going east.

The nurse who first checked on her stepped into the doorway. “How are you feeling? Did you remember anything?”

Cassie shrugged. “I think I might have applied for college here. Maybe I was visiting to check it out. Or maybe I was getting ready to start.”

“Well, there’s a policeman here to see you. He has a few questions, and they think they found out who you are. I wanted to make sure you were ready for him.”

“Go ahead and send him on in.” Sure she looked like a mess, Cassie automatically went to smooth down her hair. And found it ended just past her shoulders, the front pieces slightly longer than the back

When did I cut my hair?Goosebumps pricked her skin; everything was off, like she was in a weird dream she couldn’t wake up from.

A tall man with dark hair entered the room. She’d expected an older guy with a mandatory cop moustache. Instead, she got clean-shaven and mid-twenties. Judging from what she could see anyway. Without her glasses, all the edges blurred and features softened, and she wished for them once again.

“I’m Officer Tom Duffy.” He placed a chair next to the bed and pulled out his notepad. “So, you’ve been living in Trenton for the past two years, attending The College of New Jersey and living at a place over on Prospect. Any of that sound familiar?”

She let the news settle for a moment, but itdidn’tsound familiar. She was eighteen when she graduated high school, she worked at the Barbecue Pit for two—no, three—years when she decided to start seriously looking at colleges. “I don’t remember college at all. Or even coming to New Jersey.”

At least I finally did it. I started college.

Of course, I don’t remember anything, so I’ll have to start over.

Officer Duffy asked several questions, some she could answer and several she couldn’t.

“Well,” he said, standing up, “that’s about it for now. Get some rest, and when the doctor releases you, we can have someone escort you back to your apartment if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Cassie said. “Especially since I have no idea where it is.”

Chapter Three

Vince hesitated outside his uncle’s office door. He could hear Dante and Sal inside and, from the sound of it, they were arguing.Again. His shoulders tensed at the thought of being in the same room as them. He’d avoid being in the same room as Carlo, too, if he could help it. Unfortunately, it was inevitable.

Vince knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an answer before entering.

“I’ll go over there right now and get it done, Boss,” Sal said. “I could sneak past one measly cop and make it look like an accident.”

Carlo glanced at Vince before returning his attention to Sal. “We’ve gotta be careful. We’ll be first on their suspect list.” He twisted his chair toward Dante. “What happened to your informant at the hospital? She was supposed to let us know the second she was lucid.”

Dante shrugged. “I…well, she saw me out with Mia. You know how broads are.”

Usually, Vince didn’t bother asking what was going on—he didn’t want to know. He was ashamed by how much healreadyknew, but something was different this time. He could see it in his uncle’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Cassie,” Carlo said. “It looks like she’s not only woken up from the coma I hoped she’d stay in forever, but she also has a police escort. If she testifies, we’re all toast.”

Vince’s stomach dropped. He pictured her standing behind the hostess stand, looking painfully cute, pushing her glasses up in that way that made it hard to think straight. A clashing mix of relief and regret hit him as he processed the fact that she’d woken up.

For months he told himself to keep his distance, but last week when he came in, he couldn’t help at least thanking her for covering for Mia. Then she’d laughed, implied that he couldn’t handle waiting tables, and he’d slipped and let himself be pulled in. Told himself things could be different with her. That she didn’t ever have to know how screwed up his family—his life—was.

It lasted less than an hour before the thought got thrown back in his face.

Dante used his fingernail to pick at his teeth. “Maybe we should get Jackhammer to do it. I’ll do it if I have to, but I wouldn’t like it. She was such a sweet girl. Plus, all she really needed was a visit to the plastic surgeon, and she would’ve been a knockout.”

Everything Dante said after he mentioned Jackhammer sounded far away and distorted. The hired thug was known for drawing out his kills as long as possible. The image of Cassie slowly bleeding to death, pleading for her life to a man who’d get off on her begging for mercy, rose up and turned Vince’s blood to ice.

“I’ll do it,” Vince said, and it seemed as if he’d stepped out of his body and was watching himself volunteer. His heart beat too fast, and his fists clenched by his sides. He took a deep breath to steady himself and locked eyes with Carlo. “Let me be the one to take care of it.”

Carlo stared at Vince for a long moment and then turned to his goons. “You two, leave me and my nephew to talk about this.”

Dante and Sal stood and started for the door, but at the last second, Sal turned back around. “I’ll do it, Boss. She was sweet, but she never gave Sal the time of day. I could even—”

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