Page 4 of The Assassin
“Thanks, Ardan, I appreciate it. Maybe I’ll talk to Sloan about giving you a pay rise.” He winked.
Ardan laughed. “I’m already the best paid assassin in the States.”
“Really?”
“Most of the Killough Company men are, sir. It’s one of the reasons why we’re expected to have loyalty to Sloan. He cares about his soldiers, as long as they do their job.” Ardan glanced at his watch.
Conall chuckled. “I’ll let you go. Can I trust you’ll answer me when I call, then?”
“Always, sir. You and the boss are my number one priority.”
A weird look passed over Conall’s face, like he wasn’t quite used to being so important, and he nodded. Ardan bowed his head and spun on his heel, his shoes squeaking on the freshly polished marbled floor as he headed toward the front door. Mr. Hopper was already there when he reached it and had it opened for him. Ardan tilted his head in thanks and walked out into the fresh air.
Removing his sunglasses from inside his suit jacket, he slipped them on against the blinding sun. A wind fluttered lazily from the direction of the beach and he glanced that way, taking in the distant sand dunes that led down onto a wide beach and the roll of soft waves on the shore. He’d been down there more than once and it was a beautiful place to hone his breathing, which Ardan sometimes needed to do to get into the right mind frame.
The boss had prime real estate in the Hamptons and he shared the peace and tranquility with his men, if they deserved it. Ardan, quite often, deserved it. Right now, though, he felt like a failure. He’d never been on a mission for this long, even though he’d known Mancini was never going to be an easy target.
One of the guards near the door glanced at him and Ardan nodded, short and brief. Duffy’s wide shoulders strained at the solid black suit he wore and his sunglasses glinted in the light. His sandy blond hair was cut in a military-style fade close to his head which made his ears look too big where they sat. While he was a lot shorter than the other guards, he was the only man who Ardan knew and trusted to fully protect Sloan and Conall with his life. He excelled in the shooting course Ardan had set up for the guards, and was the best competition Ardan had fought in hand-to-hand combat classes. More than once, he’d proven his loyalty as well.
“Sir.” Duffy tilted his head and straightened again, turning to stare forward.
“I’m heading out again for a month or so, Duffy.” Ardan stepped closer to the bulky guard and kept his voice low. “You know the drill. Report to me if anything suspicious happens.”
“And who am I watching, sir?” Duffy asked quietly.
“Anyone and everyone. Someone was talking to Detective Diaz, and we need to sniff out our rat.”
“Affirmative, sir. We’ll find the rat and drown him.”
Ardan patted him on the shoulder. “Make it so. Report to me if anything happens. I want to know what you do. If the boss has visitors, I want to know everything about them. Who they are, what they do, even when they take a shit in this house, am I clear?”
Duffy quirked a grin and then canted his head forward. “Yes, sir.”
“Good man.”
Ardan walked toward his car, a sleek BMW parked and waiting for him near the fountain of the round driveway. He hit the fob, watching the lights flash, before he opened the door and slid in. The smell of leather assaulted his nose and he breathed in the new car scent. Sloan had recently updated their vehicles, as he did every year, to keep up with the top quality gear, while keeping their enemies guessing.
His phone buzzed before the call ringtone sounded in the car. Ardan tugged it out of the inside pocket of his suit and accepted the call when he saw Franco’s name. “Tell me you know where he is.”
“You know I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.” The sound of him typing on the other end of the phone had Ardan rolling his eyes, but when Franco slurped from whatever pop he was drinking, Ardan cringed. Franco, who never appeared to sleep, ran on high-speed, aided by caffeine. He was as techie as they came, a hacker and tracker for hire. A lot of the hitmen and assassins in the Society used him. When they ran an organization of contract killers, they needed tech people too.
“Well? I’m waiting.” Ardan started the engine, causing the call to slip through to Bluetooth. He put his phone in the cup holder and shifted the car into drive, heading out of Sloan’s long driveway and out into the street of massive mansions that belonged to criminals and celebrities.
“Pleasant Beach. He’s in Pleasant Beach.”
“How do you know? Mancini knows about you too, Franco. He changes burner phones every time he leaves a location.” Ardan’s hands squeezed around the leather of the steering wheel, the texture under his palms a calming feel.
Franco snorted and the tapping grew faster. “He’s there, trust me. I’ve got some scouts in the area, too, and they gave me confirmation. They saw him there. He’s been there for about four or five days.” He paused long enough to breathe deeply through the line. “That’s Norse Lords territory. Are you sure you want to go near it?”
“I know a Lord,” I said, sighing. “Santiago and I go way back.”
“Ah. Your ex?”
“Yes.” Ardan pressed his foot harder on the accelerator and the BMW shot forward onto the highway. Weaving his way through cars, he hurried toward the private airport Sloan often used.
“Would he let you into Pleasant Beach for business?”
“It’s not his choice. He’s not the president of his club.”
