Page 7 of Taking Care of the Target

“Well, she was friendly,” Tom joked as he pushed open the door and stepped inside the apartment.

“Yep, a real peach,” Cassie said.

Labeled boxes sat around the room, creating an obstacle course that led to a kitchen with a yellow stove and fridge. The few unpacked items looked like things she’d own, yet didn’t ring any bells. An eerie sensation settled over her—it was starting to be the most familiar thing in her life.

“Anything?” Tom asked, and she shook her head.

But then she caught sight of the couch in the living room off to her right—bright pink and gloriously familiar. She stepped over boxes, sat down on it, and hugged one of the black and white polka dot pillows to her chest.

She’d been about eight or nine when her and Dad’s old couch reached the embarrassingly ratty point, the stuffing spilling out of the brown cushions. So they’d gone to the furniture store to pick out a new one. At the time, she’d loved all things pink—still did, honestly—and had flipped over this couch. Dad had wrinkled his nose, made a joke about the bright color blinding him, and then sat down and commented it was “actually comfortable.” When she’d said she wanted it, he’d bought it to make her happy, even though it didn’t match anything in the house.

Tears lodged in her throat, and she swallowed them back, determined not to lose it. When Tom raised an eyebrow, she managed to say, “I’m just really happy to see my couch.”

To his credit, he didn’t look at her like she’d lost her mind—which she literally had, at least part of it—but now that she had her couch, it felt like she might be able to get through it anyway. Finding her glasses or getting new ones was next on the list. She was tired of constantly squinting and everything being so fuzzy.

She gave her pillow one more hug and then straightened. The dull ache inching across her skull meant it was time for another pill. From experience, she knew waiting too long meant suffering sharp shooting pain that took forever to go away. Hopefully in another few days she wouldn’t need them anymore. They made her even more disoriented, and she doubted that was any way to get back her missing memories.

After filling a glass—she hoped the tap water was okay to drink—she tossed back a pill and then offered Tom a glass.

“No thanks. I better get back to work, I’m afraid. I wish I could stay and help you get settled.” He put a hand on her shoulder, and for an awkward beat she thought he was going to hug her. She’d never been a hugger—anyway, she didn’tthinkshe’d ever been. Maybe during the two years she couldn’t remember she habitually hugged people she barely knew. He must’ve sensed her hesitation because he dropped his arm. “Will you be all right here?”

Cassie nodded. “I’ll be fine. And thanks. For everything.”

“Call if you need me. I’ll contact the apartment complex your friendly landlady mentioned, explain the situation, and let you know what I find out. Honestly, I’m glad you’re moving. This is a rough neighborhood.”

Coming from a cop, it made her extra glad she was leaving, too. It also justified the anxiety that kept tapping on her shoulder and whispering that she needed to get the hell out of here, even though she’d barely arrived.

***

Vince inventoried the items on his kitchen table. Two pistols, plenty of ammo, gloves, a lock pick set, and a knife. He gathered everything except for one of the loaded guns and put them into the duffel bag with his emergency stash of cash and a change of clothes, just in case things got messy. He grabbed the remaining gun, slid it into his shoulder holster, and put his green army jacket on to cover his weapon.

For a moment he paused, shaking his head at the situation he’d gotten himself into.What the hell am I doing?

Over the years he’d tried his best to stay away from the shady side of Uncle Carlo’s business, focusing all his energy on running the restaurant. Occasionally he had to go rough someone up for money owed, like whenever Carlo bailed out Bobby. Bobby, who always promised this time he was going to change, only to end up in jail or some other huge mess again. He also always managed to disappear before fulfilling his end of the bargain with Carlo, leaving Vince to take care of it.

He’d had to get his hands dirty a few times, but he’d never killed anyone. Before the incident a little over a week ago, he’d only seen one other death happen right before his eyes, and it happened to be the worst moment of his life. Anger and sorrow churned together, forming a toxic mix that’d slowly eat away at him if he let it. He quickly slammed a lid on those memories and turned back to the murder in the alley. He’d tried to talk Carlo into giving the man one last chance, but evidently chances were in short supply.

Vince let out a long exhale, hoping it’d ease the tension coiling his muscles, but no such luck. He took one last glance around, shouldered his duffel bag, and exited his house, his booted steps echoing across the wooden porch before being swallowed up in the grass. No stars lit the night sky, the sliver of moon the only thing breaking up the darkness. A car drove by, bass bumping a steady rhythm, and then everything fell silent again.

The top of his Jeep Rubicon was down, so he tossed his bag into the back. If he was going to be shot at, he’d prefer the hard top on, but he didn’t have time to take care of that now.Guess I better get it right and drive fast.

He slid into the driver’s seat, still not feeling ready even after several hours of planning, rehashing, and going over every scenario he could think of.

Cassie’s face flashed in his mind, the way it had frequently done since he’d walked into Carlo’s office and heard them talking about killing her. The pale green eyes behind those black-framed glasses, the blond hair, the shy smile she always flashed him before surprising him with a witty retort. Usually he did all the hiring, so when Carlo had informed him he’d taken care of hiring a new waitress, Vince had expected a pretty but stupid girl without much experience. The pretty part was right, but the rest wasn’t even close.

Not only was Cassie their most reliable employee, she was also smart and sweet. Was it any wonder he’d found excuses to chat with her whenever he could? That he’d sometimes stand back and watch her move between the tables, then experience a pinch of jealousy over her talking to and grinning at the customers, because he wanted to be on the other side of the conversation?

He’d nearly asked her out a dozen times, but then he would remember who he was and how sweet she was, and he’d force the foolish idea right out of his head. Regret rose up and wrapped suffocating tentacles around his lungs.Maybe if I’d asked her out…

No going there. Nothing could change the past. All he could do now was make sure she didn’t get taken out by any of the lowlifes his uncle would hire. She deserved better.

She deserved better than him, too, but sometimes you just had to choose the least awful option.

Of all people, why’d it have to be Cassie?Rage filled him, and he slammed the steering wheel with his palms. He took a second to calm down, told himself once again that there was no other way, and then started the Jeep and made the turn onto the path there was no coming back from.

Chapter Five

“McVee,” Jim said, answering the ringing phone on his desk and nearly tipping over what was left of his now-cold coffee.

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