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County Cork is a hotbed under the idyllic countryside, and I take out those fucks there, too.
But Edinburgh is meant to be my last port.
This proves fucking tricky, because this man is hidden and protected well.
So, I wait. And watch.
It’s two-thirty a.m. when I finally locate the perfect place for the hit. It’s an old house he’s using as a fresh safe house, out in the country, the kind of place from which you can see for miles. He just moved there, and he’s alone. Well, there’s a guard, but I can take care of him.
It’s easy work to dismantle the alarm system—the downside of a big property. I move in, gun drawn, various other weapons on me and my Kevlar firmly in place. I’m not a fucking idiot. I cross from room to room in the dark, listening.
Footsteps.
I wait, calculating the distance, the size of the opponent from the heaviness of his step, the length of time between each one.
My target is deep in the house, where, according to the blueprints I studied, is a stronghold of bedrooms, study, and operations. Not quite a safe room, but a proxy of that.
I get my hunting knife and move up to the door where the footsteps come from. I put the gun into my holster and wait. A shadow falls as a light comes on, and it’s stretched. One gun, but in the shadow, I can see it’s on his side.
The moment he steps out, I grab him and draw the knife across his throat then turn it, shoving it up, through his head and into his brain. He drops. I clean the blade, take his weapons, and continue without skipping a beat.
“Gustave,” my mark barks. “You can have her for a while.”
Fuck. He has a girl. And she’s going to be very young. I’ve studied his tastes. Sick fuck.
I pull my gun and step in through the open door, just as he ties his robe around his waist.
“Gustave won’t be making it.” I shoot him in the hand then the leg, and he goes down with a squeal of pain.
I deliberately don’t look at the naked girl who is chained and gagged with an O ring. I need a moment to calm, otherwise I’ll kill him in seconds.
“Seems like,” I say to the howling man, “you and I are going to have some fun.”
I’m ready to face the girl but keep an eye on the fat fuck while I free her.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” I say, careful not to touch her because that’s the last thing she’s going to want. I slip off my jacket and hold it out, ensuring she nods her approval before wrapping it around her shoulders. “Tell you what, though. Do you want to help make him suffer?”
Her eyes are red, swollen, but there’s an instant gleam at the mere prospect of revenge. Revenge I’m sure she’s been dreaming of every single night she’s been here with this fucker.
I can’t help the sadistic grin when she comes up, takes a paperweight, and smashes him in the fucking dick.
His howl is unholy.
She reminds me of someone I know.
I smile and hand her a knife.
It’s done. The targets are all dead. As for the torture, the details are not something I’m inclined to share. The job is done, the girl is safe, and that’s all that matters.
I lean back in the seat on the private plane as we fly back.
Finally, I allow myself some booze and some rest. That ends too quickly, and I sigh as Chicago’s skyline glitters from below.
When we land, I turn my phone on. I’ve been gone just over two weeks, and I’m half expecting a text from Rabbit.
But there aren’t any. Not a single one.
A dirty smile appears. Fuck, I love how hard to get she’s playing.