Page 46 of The Assassin
Ardan nodded solemnly. “It makes sense.”
Gabriel glanced out the window at the men standing by the door of the mansion-styled house, and a piece of him longed for that life again. Being part of a mafia meant he’d found himself another type of family he’d chosen. They were brothers in arms, even if they didn’t call themselves that. Being in the Killough Company would be different. Gabriel was the odd one out, a rabbit in a pride of lions. Many Irishmen didn’t like Italians, and vice versa. It wasn’t often that Killough let anyone who wasn’t Irish into their organization, not unless they were runners or associates, which meant Gabriel would be an anomaly.
The privacy glass slid open and Gregory glanced back at them. “To the Hamptons, sir?”
“Yes, Gregory,” Ardan answered.
Gregory nodded. They chatted about old times on the drive toward Killough’s house in the Hamptons, laughing about some of the derelict targets they were sent to kill or send a message to. With Killough and the Italians working together, Ardan and Gabriel had crossed paths on a lot of assignments, chasing the same men and women who thought they could fuck over mafia families. There was always someone who thought they were smarter than the bosses.
By the time they arrived at the mansion, it was nearing late afternoon, with the sun hanging low in the sky, the last rays of light dancing over the small sandy hill that obviously led out onto the beach.
Gregory pulled the car up in front of the house and turned off the ignition. Ardan and Gabriel both slid out, and Gabriel glanced up at the tall beauty sitting in front of him. He’d heard stories about Killough’s mansion, but he’d never seen it until now. The rumors weren’t lies. Two floors high, with curved balconies attached to what Gabriel assumed were various rooms, it had peaked roofing and was painted white. In the middle of the circular driveway was a water fountain of an elephant with its trunk raised, which looked brand-new, as though recently replaced. The bright green grass around the mansion seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. With the expanse of lawn, though, came bulky guards carrying guns.
Gabriel whistled. “Killough’s not wanting for much.”
Ardan laughed. “No, but it comes with risk. Do you have a place you call home?”
The front doors to mansion opened and an elderly man with gray hair slicked back on his head stood in the threshold, watching and waiting, his eyes narrowed on them suspiciously. Or more specifically, on Gabriel. According to the recon Gabriel had done on Sloan Killough last year, he could hazard a guess that this was Donnie Hopper, Killough’s butler and the man he used as eyes.
“Yeah. I bought a home in Dallas, but I don’t stay there much. Wanted that feeling of being home, but it’s not the same,” Gabriel said. Being in that house made him feel even more lonely, and the only time he stayed in his apartment was to sleep before he moved onto his next job. “You know us contract killers. Always on the move. What about you?”
“I have an apartment in NYC. I don’t visit it much. When I’m working, I stay here a lot, so Sloan puts me up in a guest bedroom.” Ardan chuckled. “It’s probably more of a home than my actual apartment. Come on.”
Ardan strode toward the two steps that led into the house and nodded at Mr. Hopper in a hello. Gabriel did the same, but Mr. Hopper harrumphed at him as he passed. Gabriel was quickly getting used to that kind of reaction from all different parties, though, so he let it slide off his back. He’d be getting that from more than just Mr. Hopper while he worked for the Killough Company.
The inside of the mansion was as jaw dropping as the outside, with high ceilings and sparkly chandeliers that looked like they were worth a mint. The grand staircase put the Folliero’s to shame with its white double staircase with shiny marble flooring, and black handrails that had wavy designs stamped into them. To his left was a set of open doors that led into a grand dining room with a massive table and a wall-length mirror on the opposite side. More chandeliers, more glamor.
Ardan nudged him. “Sloan likes luxury.”
“Does he need a table that big?” Gabriel asked with a hint of a smile.
“Yes. He entertains important people on occasion.” Ardan waved toward the right of the staircase and they moved together down a wide hallway with navy walls decorated in beautiful painted artwork. They came to a brown door and Ardan knocked loudly. “Sir, it’s Ardan with our guest.”
He said it so loudly Gabriel thought he was trying to talk to someone upstairs. Gabriel cocked his head and Ardan glanced at him with a grin.
“Sometimes the boss and his pet have a little fun in the office, and they don’t always hear me.”
“Ah.” Gabriel snorted. “Can’t blame them for that.”
“Come in,” came Killough’s rough, dominant voice from the other side of the door.
“It’s now or never,” Ardan whispered with a wink, throwing open the door for Gabriel to step through first. Killough and his pet weren’t fucking, but Conall Morrissey sat in Killough’s lap, a pleasant smile on his face as though they’d already got their fuck session out of the way. His hair was a mess on the top of his head, not held back with a hair tie like Gabriel had seen in pictures he’d received from multiple sources, in case he ever needed them.
Gabriel hadn’t ever been this close to Sloan Killough before, but he was exactly as Gabriel imagined. Handsome, the scar across his eye a reminder of just how dangerous he was. His eyes were bright against his tanned skin, the dark beard trimmed neatly against his sharp jaw, a contrast to the bleached hair on his head. He wore an ash gray suit, with the jacket laying over the back of his chair, and dark blue suspenders over his white button up shirt. Stylish, dangerous, powerful. The man everyone in the US underground was afraid of.
Conall rose with a smirk and walked over to greet Gabriel with a hand outstretched. “You must be the famous Mancini. I’ve heard a lot of… choice words about you.”
Gabriel laughed. “Ardan has a way with insults.”
“He definitely does.” Conall threw a grin over Gabriel’s shoulder at the man in question. “I’ll let you gentleman talk business. I have a job to do.”
With a wink, he strode out the door and shut it behind himself. Killough waved his hand at the two seats on the opposite side of the desk. He had a glass of amber liquid already in his hand, which he raised to take a sip from. Gabriel assumed it was whiskey. The Irishmen he knew loved that kind of shit.
“Mr. Mancini, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face. I’ve heard many rumors about your expertise.”
Gabriel inclined his head as he and Ardan took the seats they’d been offered. “Thank you, sir, and I’ve heard quite a bit about you too.”
“I have a feeling what you heard isn’t all good.” Killough grinned behind his glass before he took another sip and set it back on the desk. “It’s been quite a turn of events over this last month with my assassin and you.”
