Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

I move to the details specifying the location, noting that the target will be giving a speech at an invitation-only event that will be held on private property. Likelihood of infiltration—nonexistent. The closest spot the assassination can be accomplished from is a building fifteen hundred yards north of the property.

No wonder Kruger decided to delay the Mexico mission so he could get me onto this one. Although he has two teams of mostly ex-military personnel at his disposal, they are generally only used in situations requiring blunt force. Eliminating a target with a single bullet from nearly a mile away requires tremendous skill and precision. And nothing beats the experience of someone who has been executing targets with long-range weapons since he was sixteen.

I plug the coordinates from the file into the map app on my phone. The location pings at thirty miles north of Boston. The last time I had a job in this area, I met Nera. The display clock reads nine a.m. That means I have twelve hours to get back to New York, arm up, and reach the mission location.

Taking one last look at Nera’s window, I pull onto the street and floor the gas pedal. Even on a Sunday morning, the traffic is heavy, but it doesn’t bother me as it typically does. Spending time with my cub has a strange calming effect on me, and sometimes it lasts for days. Things that usually irritate me or make me go ballistic, don’t seem to affect me that strongly, as if the world isn’t such an awful place anymore. I don’t feel like it’s just me against the fucking universe. And instead of a dumpster fire, I think that life can actually be something good. But as time passes and the tranquilizing effect her presence has over me dissipates, the reality of my world reverts to its original state—enemy territory. And I don’t want to live in that wasteland anymore.

Not once in my life have I thought about changing my vocation. All I know how to do is kill. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. The only future I had. But now, another path has formed in front of me. A path that I never dreamed would be open to me because souls like mine don’t get second chances.

Not that I believe myself to be redeemable. No, there’s no absolution for my sins. And my general stance about people hasn’t changed—I still don’t give a fuck if they live or die. But Nera does. And I would do anything if I could become more worthy of her. A good man I will never be, but I could be better. For her.

I’ll find a night school or a tutor, something that would allow me to finally learn how to read properly. I’ll even rein in my temper and not kill the teacher if they call me a dummy for not being able to read more than basic words. And I’ll find some stupid regular job, even though I don’t need the money. Normal people have jobs. I don’t really have any particular skills other than eliminating targets, so it would have to be something simple. Working with people is out of the question. I’d probably end up strangling my superiors and colleagues before the end of my first day. Maybe a warehouse worker? No, there’ll be people around there as well. The only type of people I can work with are the dead kind. Maybe I should work at a funeral home.

Kruger won’t take my retirement well and will try to stop me. I’ll have to deal with that whole issue once and for all. After twenty years, I’ve had enough of his shit. It’s time to break up this dysfunctional family of ours. Family . . . fuck. Simply thinking of him as such speaks to just how deeply fucked-up I am. Regardless, if he insists on standing in my way, I’m going to kill him despite all that. I’ll kill every person in this world if they dare to come between me and my cub.

After I’m done with this last job, I’ll finally reply to Felix Allen. I have no idea how that crackpot geezer got ahold of my phone number, which isn’t listed anywhere, but he’s been messaging me every couple of months, asking if I want him to help me get Kruger off my ass for good. I’ve ignored each text so far, but he keeps sending them. I don’t need him to save my ass, I can handle that on my own, but I’ll ask him to get me a new identity. The name still wouldn’t be mine, but the one I’ve been using nearly my whole life isn’t, either. Maybe I could ask Nera to pick one for me. I don’t care what it is as long as she likes it. Yes, I’ll do that.

One last job.

And then, maybe I’d be able to start a new life. With my cub.

Chapter 21

Private property, 30 miles north of Boston

“This reminds me of the parties Mom liked to host.” I pass Zara her drink and nod toward the crowd in front of us.

String lights hang from the iron supports that have been set up around the lawn, casting the area in a warm yellow glow from hundreds of swaying, globe-shaped bulbs. An array of intimate tables with white satin tablecloths and big bows tied around each pedestal and similarly adorned chairs are spread all across the grass. White flower arrangements and tiny lantern-shaped replicas of overhead lights make up beautiful centerpieces on every table. Elegantly dressed men and women mill around, enjoying overpriced champagne from thin crystal flutes as a mix of heavy fragrances competes with the fresh evening air.

The entire Family is in attendance at the don’s birthday celebration, of course. When Dad called this morning to say that “the party is still a go,” I told him I’d be coming as well since I was “feeling much better.”

“One of the reasons I don’t like these parties is because they remind me of her,” Zara whispers.

“Me too.” I look down into my glass, watching the ice cubes floating on the surface. “Happy to be done with school?”

“Yup.” She just shrugs and takes a sip of her juice.

“Your dress is lovely.” I gesture to her tight, floor-length dark-gray gown. It’s very pretty with its long sleeves made of lace and high neckline, but a bit too prim and proper for her age. “You look beautiful.”

She forces a smile and quickly looks away.

“Zara.” I take her hand, compelling her to look at me. “I know you don’t believe me, but you are the most beautiful woman at this party.”

“Sure.” She tries to pull her hand away, but I hold on tightly.

“You are. And I’ll keep telling you that until you get it through that thick head of yours. Got it?”

Zara just sighs and nods.

Even when she was a baby, Zara was a pretty child, but now, with her long chestnut hair and pixie face, she’s stunning. I tried to explain to her that people look at her because she’s beautiful, but she won’t hear it.

“Did Dad make you come here tonight?” I ask. I know she hates all Family events and will skip them anytime she can, unless our father doesn’t give her a choice.

“Yes. It is his birthday celebration, after all.” Spoken so softly that it’s barely audible.

“I’ll talk to him. He shouldn’t force you to come to Family gatherings if you don’t want to. I mean, I can understand him wanting you here this evening, even though his actual birthday is next week, but still,” I say, even though I know he’s not likely to listen to me, since “parading” daughters who will soon be of marrying age is a regular thing in Cosa Nostra.

“So, your stalker is back. I hope he was sorry for making you worry so much. Is everything okay with him?” Zara asks before taking a sip of her drink.