Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Cain

"Boss."

Joe's pounding on the door to my bedroom. Violet's wound in the sheets, her head on my chest and hair all around me. I extricate myself with a groan. The door's locked, and it's likely urgent.

Cursing, I tug on a pair of boxers and walk to the door. I yank it open. Joe stands on the other side with an apologetic look on his face.

"I'm sorry."

"Have you ever tried texting? Fucking calling me?"

"Don't kill him, Cain, your phone's been off for hours," Violet mumbles behind me.

"She's right," Joe says with a grimace. "I got a call from the Salem P.D. They've got a warrant for the arrest of that Robbins woman. Seems she's been dabbling in counterfeit money."

"Fucking hell."

"Yeah."

"Get Henri down there with Claude. Find out what you can. I can't close this case today; Violet and I have a job to do."

He nods, takes down some further instructions, then shuts the door. I turn to find Violet sitting up in bed, frowning at my phone.

"He is a persistent motherfucker, isn't he?" she says teasingly.

"I only hire persistent motherfuckers." I toss her a pair of jeans and tee. "Get dressed, woman. We've got work to do."

She tosses off the blanket, stretches, and yawns. "Coffee on the road?"

"I'll take you to Java Witch."

In Salem, various restaurants and locales are named after witches, our signature mascot, one could say. Known for the infamous Salem Witch Trials, we now wear what should be shame like a badge of honor. Violet does love the Java Witch brew, though.

"Can I get one of those twisty cinnamon things, too?"

"Babe, get whatever the fuck you want." She knows I don't give a shit what she gets, but she still likes to ask me. For a ballsy woman, she's fucking cute.

I sling my holster on and pack my favorite Ruger.

"Jesus," Violet moans behind me. I look over my shoulder at her.

"What?"

"There's nothing that makes me want to fall to my knees and suck your cock more than seeing you suiting up for a job." She feigns swooning before she sits on the edge of the bed to tug her boots on.

"Wish I could say the same for you," I say, as she slides her new knife into her ankle sheath before she reaches for her new Wilson.

"I know, I know," she says with an eye roll. "Watching me get my weapons makes you want to… I dunno, handcuff me to your bed or something."

"Don't need the threat of a weapon to bring out the handcuffs."

She smiles and gives me a coy look.

"Alright, where to first?" she asks, as she heads to the bathroom and quickly fixes her hair and makeup. "Pastor What's-his-name?"

"Yep. See what he has to tell us."

Suddenly, she pops her head out of the bathroom, her toothbrush shoved into the side of her mouth. "Way a mim," she mumbles.

"Huh?"

She takes her brush out of her mouth. "Wait a minute. Now wait a minute. Cain, what's the typical payout for a hit?"

I shrug, testing the safety on my Ruger. "Hugely varied. Could be ten thousand, could be ten mil. Why?"

"Your rules went through my mind while I slept."

I nod, pleased. It's partly why I went over the rules before we went to bed. She's fucking brilliant, and her mind works even when she's at rest. I knew she'd wake and have them memorized.

"Yeah?"

"Assassins get paid up front. Right?"

"Yes."

"Like there's no assassin layaway plan or credit or anything. Cash only."

"Right."

"And… they get paid lots. Last I checked, the average annual salary of a typical assassin was about eighty million dollars a year."

I nod. "Right."

She throws her hands up in the air. "Then… where's my parents' money? If my father was an assassin… he was worth money. Big money. Right?"

I nod. "And if you weren't supposed to exist, and no one knew they had a child…" my voice trails off.

"Right?"

"I'll call Joe. Put him on it."

If she has money owed to her and someone fucking took it…

She nods, heading back to the bathroom, and soon we head out. She takes a minute before we go to get to her knees and pat Romulus and Remus, kissing each of their furry heads.

"You are crazy about those dogs."

"You know I love them."

I watch as the two dogs moon over her when she leaves. Hell, everyone moons over her.

We all love Violet.

I hate the thought of her leaving. When she's found what she needs to… when she's completed the job she was supposed to… what then?

My phone rings, and I go to silence it, when I see it's the Salem police.

"Hello?" I answer the phone as I open Violet's door.

A loud, high-pitched voice comes over the speaker.

"Mr. Master. It's me. I've been trying to reach you for three days."

For fuck's sake, I forgot the PD puts calls from the jail through their secure line, no doubt so they can tap them.

"Have you?" I don't miss the way Violet's eyes narrow as she snaps her seat belt shut and mouths who's that ? I shake my head and head to the driver's seat.

"I told you I couldn't help you immediately and would need some time." I hear something in the background, and a series of clicks.

"I paid you all my inheritance for your help!"

I blow out a breath and try to speak patiently, though I want to hang the fucking phone up. "And I'll help you as best I can, but allow me to remind you, you've been taken into custody, have you not?"

"I have! And I need you to get me out of here. You're the only one with enough clout that you could do it."

"I'm sorry. That's way beyond my pay grade. My team will be in touch."

"Mr.—"

I hang up the phone.

Violet stares out the window for a moment in silence while I type in the minister's number on my phone.

"Desperate much?"

"Tell me about it. Jesus."

"Something's off about her, Cain."

I roll my eyes. "You're just jealous."

"I am not just jealous. And holy shit. What is that? "

I look in my rearview mirror and groan. Doesn't anyone listen to me?

"You… weren't supposed to see that yet," I say, shaking my head. "Jesus."

Her jaw drops. "You are holding out on me! Oh my God. You bought another truck and didn't tell me?"

She doesn't know because the goddamn truck's for her.

"They weren't supposed to bring it yet," I say, backing up so we can leave.

"Oh my God, I want to touch it. Plllleeeease. Pretty, pretty please, can I touch it?" She runs her hand along the dashboard of my truck, as if to appease herself.

"When we get back," I promise, then add in a teasing voice, "if you behave yourself. Now tell me where to go."

"I'll tell you where to go," she pouts. I pinch her thigh, and she squeals. "Okay, alright. So we're heading south of the historical district."

"Perfect."

"So back to what I was saying earlier. Where on earth is that money?"

"That's a very good question, and I think it would be worth our while asking Gray Descamps that very question."

"Agreed. If I'm no one, and my parents made all that money… their income has to be hidden somewhere. It can't just be like… under the mattress."

"It's pretty hard to hide millions under a mattress."

"But it could be done."

I snort. "Have you actually seen what a hundred million dollars looks like in cash?"

She raises a brow to me. "So we've gone up to a hundred million. I have not. Have you?"

"I have. I was once contracted to assist with a drug bust that ended up revealing the largest amount of cash ever confiscated in the history of the East Coast. We apprehended the drug dealers who'd kept two hundred and fifty million in cash in a bedroom."

"So that's why your bed's the size of a small island?"

I laugh out loud. "I knew you'd find out eventually."

"Two hundred and fifty million is a lot of fucking money. And if your father was as successful as you thought he was… well, that money's definitely somewhere, isn't it?"

She looks out the window. I wonder if she's imagining herself wealthy, what she could do with that money. What she doesn't know is that everything I have is hers for the taking, and there's a reason she couldn't afford my services.

Violet's mine. I won't ever let her go. And everything I own is hers.

"I know what you're thinking," she says.

"You're a mind reader now?"

"You could say it's one of my talents."

"And?"

"You don't like the thought of me being wealthy." There's a pained sound to her voice I don't miss.

She couldn't be further from the truth.

"Why wouldn't I want you to be wealthy? Of course I do. Things are easier when you have money. I don't like the thought of you going without at all."

"No, Cain," she says in a softer voice. "You don't like the idea of me not needing you."

I scoff. "I'm not that insecure, babe."

She doesn't reply. We'll battle her goddamn insecurities until she knows exactly who she is and how much she's worth.

"We're only five minutes out now. What's our plan?"

"He might suspect who you are as soon as he sees your eyes. Maybe we should've put your contacts in."

She has color-changing contacts for times like these, when I don't want anyone to remember her or identify her in a line-up.

"Nope. I want him to know exactly who I am when I interrogate him."

"Wait, just last night you were saying that you didn't want to hurt an elderly man."

"Perhaps I've changed my mind," she says decidedly.

"Oh? And what did that for you?"

"I want answers, Cain. I didn't come to you for the good food and better sex."

I reach for her hand but can't help but smile when I give her a squeeze. "I know, baby."

Violet blows out a whistle as we near the address on the map. The tight houses around us spread out to orchards, sprawling mansions atop massive cliffs that overlook the water.

"I thought ministers were poor?" she says curiously. "This guy lives in the lap of luxury." Her brows knit together. "That doesn't bode well, does it?"

"Not all ministers live in poverty, and not all rich ones are corrupt, but..."

I have my suspicions about him. I tap my phone. "Call Henri."

"Hello? What can I do for you, Mr. Master?"

Henri's like a brother to me but has never lost his Southern charm and formality.

"Henri, we need what you've found on Gray Descamps, the shortened version." I've had him working on it since last night.

"I see you're almost there."

"I am." I have my team track my whereabouts and Violet's at all times.

"I'll make it quick, sir. Gray Descamps has been married four times, has seven children with various women, and is the second wealthiest minister in New England." Violet curses under her breath.

"Court cases?"

"None, sir, though there are a few allegations of sexual misconduct in the workforce that were settled out of court."

Violet cringes. "Could this guy get any more predictable?" She sighs. "What does he drive?" Violet asks.

"What does he drive?" I repeat and give her a curious look.

She shrugs. "We'll need to find out what he values. What matters to him. If he's wealthy, it's likely his possessions." She looks out the window with a scowl. "If he has that many children with that many women, it will be hard in this short timeframe to find out which we could use to threaten him with."

"God, I love how your brain works."

Henri clears his throat. "Sir, you're three minutes out."

I wink at her, and she sticks her tongue out at me. She'll pay for that. "Go on."

"Four years ago, he had a paid television show that was very popular. He's known for his fire-and-brimstone sermons on repentance and good works, but his show was shut down during the allegations of sexual abuse."

"Does he have any known phobias?" I ask.

Violet tips her head to the side. I'm not going to walk in and bloody the old man up, but I'll have to get answers, and something tells me he won't make it easy.

"None obvious, but perhaps… water, sir. He had a pool in his backyard he had filled in a few years back, and all his vacations are on land."

It's not much, but it's something to go on.

"Does he have any ties with any known criminals?"

"No, sir, he—no. Wait just a minute." He's silent for a moment. "Four years ago… just around the same time his television show was cancelled, there was a threat to his life. Rumors of ‘organized crime' made the press, but no names and no details."

"Of course," Violet says. "No news press is going to name a mafia group, would they." She curses under her breath again and pulls her knife out. I watch as she runs her finger along the sharp edge of the blade. Thinking.

"We're here." At least, we're in the neighborhood. GPS puts us at the foot of a hill. At the top of the hill stands a wrought iron gate and an intercom.

"Stand by, Henri. May need you to work a lock remotely."

"Yessir."

"Cain, is it wise to just go in the front gate like this? Won't he be waiting for us?"

"I want him waiting."

She shifts on her seat and squeezes my hand in silent approval. I lift her fingers to my mouth and kiss them.

I press the button on the intercom, and a man's voice answers immediately. "May I help you?"

"We're here to see Gray Descamps, please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

Violet rolls her eyes and chimes in. "It's about the salvation of my soul. Are such appointments necessary?"

The intercom is quiet for a moment, and I shake my head at her. The woman's fucking unpredictable.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to make an appointment. Mr. Descamps is unavailable for the next four weeks. You can find his assistant's email listed on his website."

Apparently, saving someone's soul can wait a month when you're sitting on property worth millions. I want at this motherfucker.

"Please tell him it's urgent," Violet says from the passenger seat. Her tone is also urgent , with an edge I know all too well. Violet's about to lose her temper.

I reach my hand to her thigh and give her a gentle squeeze, a reminder that keeping our tempers will work better than coming in guns blazing. She narrows her eyes at me. She doesn't like those reminders.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to make an appointment on the website. Have a good day."

There's the sound of a click, the lock securing. Pretty much what I expected. There's a long, curving driveway. Uniformed guards make their presence known.

"Count them," I say in a low whisper to Violet.

She nods as I back out of the driveway.

We drive along the main road, but we aren't leaving this property until we get what we came for.

"Take a right," she says quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her pull out her gun and shine the handle on her shirt.

"Not sure we'll need that."

"Shame."

Violet's a fucking good shot, and I know she wants an opportunity to use her skills and her new toy.

"An elderly minister has to be approached a certain way."

She sighs. "I know. So I don't get to see you beat anyone up today."

I can't help but smile, because I know she's only half-joking. Every goddamn time I train with one of my men, she's practically dragging me to bed afterward. It's part of how she's wired, and I love her for it.

"Nope. The way to get to someone like him is to really, truly determine what he's afraid of. We need to know what he fears most so we can make him tell us the truth."

"Perhaps he's afraid of heights," she says in a bored tone before she makes a sound of disgust. "So plebeian."

"Or spiders."

She rolls her eyes. "Cliché."

"Or maybe…." her voice trails off as she taps her chin thoughtfully. "Let's think about this. What would a wealthy man who preaches from the Bible fear above all else?"

"Slander to his reputation. Losing all his money."

"Precisely. Oh, Cain! There!" She points to a rusty gate that leads to the back of Descamps's property. I pull the truck over to the side of the road, leaves crunching beneath the heavy tires.

"Perfect. Good eye, baby."

In minutes, she's disassembled the lock. She faces me with a look of triumph. "Ready?"

Before we go, I reach down and loop my fingers along the nape of her neck, pull her head back, and capture her mouth with mine. "I'm ready, baby. Let's do it."

For all his riches, Descamps has gotten lax when it comes to security. My property's heavily guarded, with video surveillance. We don't have so much as a squirrel that crosses the perimeter of my home without our knowledge. Descamps, however, is either lazy or stupid.

The gate leads to the back of his property, everything so overgrown here there's not a chance security would see anything even if they had cameras positioned here. No guard dogs, no armed men. Nothing.

"Wow," Violet says. "Bet you're about to burst a blood vessel imagining how shitty his security is."

I snort. "I'd burst a blood vessel if it were my home so easily compromised. With him, I'm more than happy to make myself at home."

"Agreed."

It's difficult to walk quietly through a wooded area in the fall, as crunchy leaves and branches snap with every step we take. But the wind rustles the leaves, masking the noise we make, and by the time we get to a clearing, thunder rolls overhead.

"What do you see?" I ask her. I'm your man for brute force, but when it comes to hawk-eye vision and strategy, Violet's unparalleled.

"He's got a barn to the right that looks neglected. Roof's seen better days, hay bales sloppy and unkempt. That's where the pool used to be, and a… hot tub? There's a pool house, too."

"Any entrances from the back?"

"Lots. Looks like there's a door by the pool house which leads to a back entrance, as well as a bulkhead, and there's an actual open door on the property as well."

"Let's try the pool house." It's chilly enough this time of year, that part of the house likely doesn't get much use.

"Let's do it."

We move as one, silently and quickly, as several yards of bare ground before us leaves us uncovered and more likely to be seen. In less than a minute, we've made it past the pool house and to the door that leads us into his home.

"Locked?"

Violet frowns at the digital lock on the door while I ring Henri.

"Boss?"

I quickly whisper what I need and send him a picture of the lock. He has data on how to unlock everything from a padlock to a jammed door, and quickly finds not only the year, make, and model of this lock, but succinct directions on how to disable it.

"Let me do it?" Violet asks.

I nod and step back. She's small and lithe, so she easily maneuvers her way into situations just like this.

"Told you it'd come in handy having someone small like me on your staff."

"You did."

"And was I right?"

I hold her slender hips with my hands. "You were. I could pick you right up and tuck you into my pocket."

" Cain. Your timing sucks." Then she quickly nods her head. "I know, I know, I agreed. Now please, let me focus before I lose my concentration here. You and I could take the six security men he's got that I counted, but I'd rather not break a sweat while we're here." She frowns. "I don't want to have to wash my hair again." It's adorable what crosses her mind sometimes.

"Alright, alright," I concede, as the lock clicks open. "But I go in first." I'm happy to let her work her magic with a damn lock, but there's no telling what waits for us on the other side.