Chapter 1

Chapter One

Hudson

" A ny trouble?" I look up from my phone at Atlas's question and frown.

He stares at me from behind his colossal desk.

"Don't you think I would have led with that?"

Kenzo chuckles from the sofa where he's lounging.

"There was a time when you'd refer to me as sir."

I smirk at his hard tone. "It's all part of the act, sir . When we're out in public, I'm nothing but your mild-mannered, dutiful driver," I grunt, making Atlas's lips twitch.

"I, for one, would love to see people's reactions when they realize that Pete, Atlas's humble driver, is actually a world-class assassin," Kenzo says with glee in his voice.

"Anonymity is what keeps me alive. Have you ever heard of Miko "the bullet" Haines?"

Kenzo whistles, but Atlas is the one who answers.

"He's the assassin who died last year, right? I never met him, but I heard his name being thrown around. He had a list a mile long of kills he was responsible for. Apparently, the guy was an arrogant ass."

"That's my point. He put his image and name out there, bragging about who he was and what he could do. Then, to top it off, he shares the names of his targets. The man was a fucking idiot. Loose-lipped assassins end up dead. And every single fucker on that list had friends and family that are most likely the prime suspects."

"We get it. Flying under the radar keeps you alive. Still, it must be boring as fuck just driving us around all the time," Kenzo sighs, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"Him." I point at Atlas. "I drive him around. I don't work for you. In fact, shouldn't you be in your own fucking office running your own criminal empire right now?"

"I'm bored."

I look at Atlas, who crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head.

"How can you be bored? Don't you have minions to boss around or something?"

"Everyone is too scared of him right now." Atlas chuckles.

"It's not funny. I never wanted to be the boss. I should have given the job to Pete."

I hold my hands up. "It was your wife that took out the Hoffmans, which means you got the job. Suck it up."

He huffs and takes another sip of his drink as Atlas looks at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Cash will be in your account by tomorrow. You want a few days off?"

After doing a job in the UK, which involved taking out a member of parliament and his mistress and flying straight back, I'll admit jet lag is kicking my ass. When I was in my twenties, I could survive on a few hours of sleep a week if necessary. Now, age is my weakness. At forty-three, I am fast approaching the half-century mark, and my body is more than happy to remind me of that fact. One of those reminders was that I needed far more sleep than I used to. I also had knees that creaked like a fucking trap door in a B-rate horror movie, signaling the end of my career.

An assassin is nothing without the element of surprise.

"Sure, if you don't need me, I have some shit I need to do anyway. I—" My cell phone rings, cutting off what I was about to say.

I pull out the phone and frown at the screen when I see it's my son, Landon. Landon and I have a turbulent relationship at best. His mother, Eloise, and I dated in high school. I knocked her up when we were both fifteen. I tried to do the right thing by marrying her after we graduated. I joined the army and became a sniper—and a damn good one, too—until the bureaucracy bullshit became too much. I left after a decade and came home. Within a year of being back, everything fell apart. The ten years I spent enlisted meant the time I'd spent back home had been minimal. That didn't stop us from getting pregnant with Abbot, though. It just meant Eloise went through the pregnancy and raised a baby alone. There was a lot of bitterness and resentment on her end. When faced with actually living together, it proved to be our downfall. We weren't the same fifteen-year-old kids anymore. Arguments and fights became our new normal until, one day, I walked away, burning any bridges we had left.

Naturally, my sons hated me for abandoning their mother. I was mostly a stranger to them, anyway, Abbot in particular, and my leaving made it that much easier for them to avoid me. I'd like to say I pushed for more with them, but the truth is, I knew they were better off without me. After coming home, I took on jobs that were less than legal until I made a name for myself as a gun for hire. Having them in my life would have been a risk, no matter how fiercely I guarded my identity.

I'd spoken to them on and off over the years, but their calls were still infrequent enough to raise eyebrows when they did contact me.

"Landon? Everything okay?"

"Mom's dead." I stand up straighter. Kenzo and Atlas jump up to stand with me when they see the tension in my body.

"What happened?"

"Hit and run. I don't know anything else yet. I'm waiting for the cops to come tell us more, but?—"

"Where are you?" I bark.

"Mercy Central. You don't need to?—"

"I'm on my way." I hang up before he can say anything else.

"What's going on?" Kenzo is the first to ask.

I look up at them both as I slide my phone back into my pocket, realizing just how little they really know about me.

"That was my son. Their mother is dead. I'm heading to Mercy Central to meet them."

"Their?" Atlas asks.

"Yeah, my sons. Landon and Abbot."

"How the fuck did we not know you had kids?" Kenzo asks as he slips his jacket on and heads for the door. "Are you two coming or what?"

"Kenzo," Atlas calls.

He turns to look at him before his eyes move to me and then back to Atlas.

"What?"

"There's a reason we didn't know Pete had kids, and I'm guessing his sons know nothing about us," Atlas replies. Kenzo stands there for a moment before he nods and steps away from the door.

"It's nothing personal, Kenzo. My boys don't have much to do with me, and nobody knows about them. You know what I do. You know it would only take one slip-up for them to become targets."

"I know, but things aren't the same now. You're not the lone wolf you used to be. With me and Atlas at your back, people would be insane to mess with you."

"He's right. You think I'd let anything happen to Iris?" Atlas crosses his arms over his chest.

"Not for a second. And I know that when Kenzo's son gets here, Kenzo will do everything in his power to keep him safe too. But it's a little different for me. For one, my boys aren't likely to be taken for ransom or held as leverage. I'm a hitman. We play by different rules. I wouldn't even know my sons were targets until they had bullet holes in their foreheads. Now, like you said, things are different. But the damage is already done, at least to our relationship. I was never a father to them. I couldn't be. I made sure financially they were set for life, but beyond that, I was just the guy who broke their mother's heart and walked away."

"How old are they?"

"Landon's twenty-eight, and Abbot's seventeen."

"Old enough to understand that nothing is black and white. It's up to you. But just know we're there if you need us."

"I think I should handle this alone. They're grieving, and I won't take advantage of that. There will be time later to tell them, if necessary."

"Take the Jag." Atlas tosses me the keys.

"I'll get one of the guys to pick it up from my place later," I tell him before heading out.

I jog down to the underground garage and climb into the Jag, which is my usual car of choice when I chauffeur Atlas around.

I drive to the hospital on autopilot, my mind going in a dozen different directions. Regret leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It's hard to think about how different my life would be if I had taken a different direction.

Maybe I'd be living in the suburbs in a house with a white picket fence, working a nine-to-five job, and coaching Little League on the weekends.

I grimace. The all-American dream has never appealed to me. I was never one for conforming, which is odd for a soldier.

The truth is, being a hitman pays exceedingly well. I've amassed a lot of money over the years. So much that I'll never have to work another day in my life. Neither would my boys or their children when the time comes.

My house is paid for, as is the summer home and all my vehicles. I could have bought more, but for years, I lived a nomadic lifestyle, and that seemed pointless.

Turning on the radio, I listen to a country song about a man heartbroken that his wife left and took the dog. It makes me want to rip my own ears off, but it's the distraction I need.

Yeah, there are a million things I could have done differently. But I didn't, so now it's time to deal with the fallout. Luckily, I have thick skin, and like Atlas pointed out, they might be my sons, but they're not boys anymore. They can love and be protective of their mom's memory, but I'll be damned if I take their shit.

When I get to the hospital, I park the car and head inside, giving my ex-wife's details to the woman at the information desk when I reach it. She gives me a sympathetic look before directing me to the third floor.

I take the elevator up, ignoring the looks I'm getting from the two nurses talking quietly to each other. On any other day, I might have taken one of them in the janitor's closet. Hell, I would have taken them both together. But today, all I can think about is Landon and Abbot.

When the doors slide open, I walk out, not bothering to flash the nurses my patented smirk or play the gentleman by letting them leave first so that I can check out their asses. I just focus on getting to my boys.

I spot Landon first, taking in his wrinkled suit and the stubble on his face as he talks to one of the doctors. Abbot's sitting in one of the hard chairs, staring off into space as he absently runs his fingers through the mass of blonde hair belonging to the girl curled next to him with her head in his lap.

"Dad?"

I refocus when I hear Landon's voice. He says something to the doctor, who nods before he walks away.

Landon walks over to me, and I take in the way he carries himself. Say what you will about my boys, but they loved their mother. Her loss will affect them in a way losing me never did.

I get it. She was there for them. She stuck around—was there for every scraped knee, every football game, even their first heartbreak.

They didn't get anything like that from me, so playing the father angle now won't get me anywhere. It's easier to let them take the lead with our relationship.

"You didn't need to come," Landon says before running his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, son, I did. What do you need from me?"

He opens his mouth but shakes his head and looks over at his brother, who's still staring at the wall like there's nobody else around.

"Look, a lot has happened since the last time we saw you. I don't even know where to start. And honestly, I just don't have the energy to get into it now."

I don't let his attitude bother me. "Do the police have any idea what happened?"

"If they do, they aren't speaking. So far, all I know is that she was hit by a car, and it took off." Landon grits his teeth as he continues. "She coded three times before they got her here. After that last time, the test showed no signs of any brain activity. They turned the machines off just before I called you. We're just waiting for them to clean her up so we can go see her and say our goodbyes."

He rubs his hand over his face. "When was the last time you spoke to Mom?"

I wrack my brain, knowing it's been a while but not realizing just how long it's been until now. "It's been about four years. Jesus."

He nods, his eyes moving back to his brother. "Abbot implied as much."

"I wasn't there before, but I'm here now."

"Are you? Or are you gonna bail at the first sign of responsibility?"

I tense at that and take a step closer, lowering my voice so only he can hear me. "I get that you're pissed, Landon, but I'm not gonna stand here and let you use me as a punching bag. You wanna take your shots? Wait until we're behind closed doors."

He sneers. "Right, I wouldn't want to damage your reputation. Your boss might not like that."

I sigh. I can't say I'm surprised he knows about Atlas. The man is a big name around these parts, and Landon, ironically enough, decided to go into law. We're on two very different sides, and though I'm proud as fuck of him, he still needs to learn when to watch his mouth.

"If you know who I work for, then you know you should be very careful about what you say around other people who can hear you. If you're disrespectful, it will have to be dealt with."

He rolls his eyes but, thankfully, doesn't say anything more on the subject. "Did you know Mom got remarried?"

That makes me jolt. "What the fuck?"

He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues, "Yeah, almost three years ago. I didn't even know about it until after they'd tied the knot. She probably knew I would have locked her in my trunk and kidnapped her. The woman always did have shitty taste in men."

"Boy," I growl in warning.

"I'm not a fucking boy. I'm a man. You would have noticed that if you had stuck around."

"Where's this fucking husband?"

"Derek Rivers is long gone, thank God. But not before he took every penny she had. Drained her bank accounts, including Abbot's college fund and our trust funds."

"What the fuck? You better tell me where this fucker?—"

He holds up his hand and shakes his head. "When I said he's gone, I meant in a permanent way. The stupid fuck gambled it all away. Every penny is gone, just like that," he snaps his fingers.

"Didn't stop him from placing more bets, though, leveraging the house and the cars. In the end, he found out the hard way what happens when you borrow from the wrong kind of people and don't pay them back. You'd know all about that, though, wouldn't you?"

I growl at him, but his shoulders slump, going from pissed off to defeated in seconds.

"I didn't know about the gambling. I'm living in Boston now. I got a job as a junior associate at a high-powered law firm. I share a house with three other guys because rent is expensive as fuck, but I like it."

"I can buy you?—"

"Don't do that. Don't come back now and try to buy your way back into our lives. I'm proud of what I've accomplished. I worked my ass off, and I'll be damned if I let you taint that now."

As much as I want to smack the disrespectful shit upside the head, I don't. If the shoe were on the other foot, I can't say I wouldn't feel the same way. Hell, I wouldn't have given myself the time to speak. I would have thrown a punch first and asked questions later.

"Alright, I get it. I'm a piece of shit. If that's what you need to believe to get through this, Landon, then fine, so be it. But what about Abbot? What does he need? And who the fuck is the girl?"

Landon's fists unclench as he looks at me. "He needs to stay here with you. I share a house hours away from here, and he's almost done his senior year. I don't want to uproot him when he has enough going on."

I blow out a sharp breath. It's on the tip of my tongue to refuse. This is the kind of thing I've avoided to keep them out of trouble. Yet trouble found them anyway.

I think back to what Kenzo and Atlas said about things being different now, and I hope to God they're right.

"Okay, I'll take him."

He nods, and I don't miss the surprise on his face. I'm sure he expected more of a fight, which makes me feel like an even bigger prick.

"The girl. Is she his girlfriend?" I can't get a good look at her from here with her hair covering her face, but I know I don't know her.

"She's… complicated," he admits with a sigh. "Her name's Starling, and she's our stepsister."