Wild Justice

CHAPTER 37

Jack made me put my heels back on to move the body. Because, apparently, tetanus was a serious concern. He did most of the heavy lifting, but we did need to carry the guy, not just drag him across the park. And it was a bit of a hike. Still we managed it.

We weighed the body down and tossed it into the pond. That makes it sound easy. It wasn’t. There’s no sense hiding a corpse if you’re going to be careless about it. By the time we finished, it was nearly two in the morning. And the night wasn’t over yet.

We had to get back to the car. Then we had to make damned sure that it hadn’t been tampered with—particularly that it wasn’t going to blow up when Jack turned the ignition. He knew how to check and showed me.

Then, having ascertained that the BMW was indeed safe to drive, we had to get rid of it. Or at least leave it at the rental company lot and pick up our less conspicuous car.

The rental place was closed. That was fine. Jack had rented the BMW under a different alias and left our previous car in a public parking lot two blocks away.

After that, we still couldn’t return to our hotel until we were sure we hadn’t been followed from there to the restaurant.

So who did we think called in the hired gun? The answer seemed obvious: the guy who knew I was in town. Sebastian Koss. Yes, we hadn’t seen him make a call or anything after our meeting, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t contacted someone, maybe a text under the table as we’d talked, getting my would-be assassin over to the pub to follow me.

Earlier, I’d said I thought it entirely possible for Koss to have a drink with someone he’d hired a hit on. He was, after all, a killer, however justified his cause. And yet to hire a hitman after talking to me? That took a level of cold that I couldn’t fathom. As we drove, I asked Jack’s opinion.

“Talk to a mark? Yeah. Done it.”

“So have I,” I said. “A few words at most. I’ve never had a full-length conversation, though. Have you done that?”

“Conversation?” A snort. “Fuck, no. Worse than killing. More painful.”

I smiled. “Okay, for you, maybe. But it feels like . . . I don’t know. Maybe that’s my ego. I don’t like to think someone could talk to me for an hour and still want to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

I laughed softly. “Thank you.”

“Mean it, though. Even the first time. When Evelyn sent me. I was worried you’d be a risk. Even if you were? Don’t think I could have done it. For someone else, though? Talked to them, then had to kill them? Could manage. If I had to. Rather not. Probably easier if you’re not the one pulling the trigger, though.”

“True. So we’re certain Koss hired him.”

“Never certain. But . . .”

“It almost definitely is because, well, who else could it be?”

“Yeah.” He glanced over. “Sorry. Know you liked him. His reputation anyway. Respected him.”

I nodded. “I did. But that’s not going to stop me from putting the bastard down before he can do the same to me.”

“Good.”

We were standing outside Koss’s house. It was a typical upper-middle-class home in a typical upper-middle-class suburban neighborhood. I’d been hoping for a more ostentatious show of wealth, as if it might prove Sebastian Koss was indeed evil. I know it doesn’t work that way, but it would have helped.

The place was dark. We had no way of telling whether Koss was home, but we presumed he was. There’s no sense hiring a killer if you aren’t going to make sure you have an alibi for the time of death. So when Jack said, “I’m going in,” I turned and stared at him.

“There’s a family in there,” I said.

A slight narrowing of the eyes, relaying an offended “no shit.”

“There’s no need to go in,” I said. “We’re ninety-five percent sure he’s sleeping beside his wife, establishing his alibi.”

“And I’m gonna check. Also getting a better look. Security, layout, whatever. In case.”

I didn’t ask “in case of what.” I knew. In case we decided to kill Sebastian Koss.

“What else?” I said.

A wordless shrug told me it was a valid question.

“You’re going to leave a message, aren’t you?”

A moment’s pause as he glanced away. Then, “Yeah.”

“Jack . . .”

He turned his gaze back on me. “You really think I’d let this slide? Fuck, no. I was sure it was him? I’d put a bullet in his brain while he slept beside his wife. Wouldn’t take the chance he’d call another hit first thing tomorrow. As it is . . .” Another shrug. “Just leaving a message.”

“What?”

He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. I presumed they were the hitman’s, though I hadn’t seen him take them.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Gonna wipe them down. Before I leave them.”

“I’m not concerned about that. It’s a house with four people in it, plus security, maybe a dog . . .”

“I won’t kill the dog.”

I gave him a look.

“Yeah. I know. Not easy. I can do it. Done worse. Brought tools. Not a problem.”

There was little I could say to that. As pissed off as Jack was, he wouldn’t take an unnecessary risk with me standing watch outside.

Jack got in and out without incident. Koss was in bed. Jack had done a little searching in Koss’s office, too, but found nothing.

In the car, we both got quiet. Now that the rush of the last few hours had passed, I realized what had happened. Someone tried to kill me. And that assassination attempt killed my romantic evening with Jack.

I know the two things shouldn’t weigh equally on the scale. Yet people have shot at me before. I’d like to say I’m used to it, but afterward, there’s always that “holy fucking shit” moment when I realize I could have died. Still, it’s not much different from avoiding a car accident. I could have died; I didn’t; I’d be more careful now.

As for Jack, I’d spent the past year wanting to be with a guy who didn’t seem the least bit interested. Then he gives me the most perfect date I could imagine. The dress, the hotel, the car, the restaurant, and then the park with that moment of complete, unbridled—and, yes, unexpected—passion.

The night should have ended back in our penthouse hotel suite, where I’d watch the sun come up from the king-size bed. Instead, I was watching it rise through the window of our tiny rental car, my dress dirty, my hair bedraggled, makeup smeared, even my shoes on the backseat because one of the heels was nearly broken off. We were looking for a hotel, any hotel, not to finish what we’d started, just to sleep. Shower off the filth of the night and collapse, probably into separate beds, as if it was any other hard night of work. I thought of that and I wanted to cry.

“There’s a Holiday Inn,” I said, pointing at the sign ahead.

Jack glanced over. It was indeed a Holiday Inn, and not even a particularly nice one. His lips tightened.

“Gotta be more up here,” he said. “Better.”

I sighed. “We haven’t passed anything else since we left the suburbs. Let’s just take it.”

He glowered at the hotel, as if it had committed some unspeakable offense by existing. Then he turned in.