Chapter 11

When Anni's brother first approached me, I'd never heard the name Ranger Cavanaugh. Although, when you meet the man, you realize pretty quickly that he's a natural predator.

Maybe normal people could look into his eyes and ignore the cold, dead stare.

I, however, recognized the look.

I see it enough in the mirror when I'm wrapping up a job, or often on the faces of the men I'm dispatching from the land of the living.

To say I didn't believe him when he said his sister wasn't like him would be a vast understatement.

All I was told in taking her contract was what she'd done and the price paid out on confirmation of job completion.

Killing women isn't my favorite.

In general, I pass on those contracts, but un-fucking-fortunately, I owed Andretti—the older one—a favor.

A few years back, I missed an important camera that would've gotten me caught in two seconds flat. Lucien Andretti called in that favor, with no interest in wiggle room or negotiations.

So, I took the job.

Only to have her brother find me before I even made it out of the city.

Ranger knew exactly how likely I was to find his little sister, and he wanted my help.

I was not inclined to give it, but after three weeks spent in his basement, let's just say, I changed my tune.

The disturbing part is, he didn't torture or interrogate me once.

No, he had a different tactic in store for me. It broke me quicker than if he had pulled out all my teeth.

I've often employed a don't ask policy in my professional life. Of which, Ranger quite ruthlessly and efficiently showed me the error of my ways.

Never again will I take a favor from an individual I wouldn't trust to call it in.

My history spoke for itself. I'd never failed on a job until Andretti called in that fucking favor. All it took was scenting the little omega, and my priorities changed.

I was able to salvage my Swiss and Cayman bank accounts, but all my US funds were forfeited when I faked my own death.

I certainly wasn't going to drag Annika back to her brother.

He wouldn't have let me keep her.

Then we would've tried to kill each other, and it would have become a whole big thing.

She would have been miserable with him, and I do everything in my power to keep her happy, so it was much easier to kill off my for-hire identity.

Picking up one of the handpicked backup personas was even easier.

Grady Wells bore more than a passing resemblance to myself. So much so that he could have been my long-lost twin brother. The difficult part was guiding Annika to Las Vegas when I found her while she was still in Texas. Her life there was rather insulated, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never find an in.

But I'm nothing if not persistent, and it all worked out in the end.

I let myself into my house, listening for the telltale moaning that the dick is still alive.

Yep, I knew it.

He's far too pathetic to end his own suffering. I did leave him a knife. If he was so inclined, he could have used it to speed up the process of bleeding out. Or he could have sliced his own throat and been done, once and for all. Alternatively, he could chop off his good hand and slide right out of the shackle. Except, he'd have to use his feet to saw with.

I chuckle, shaking my head.

I gave the man options. He might not like any of them, but they're there.

Having a prisoner feels more time-consuming than a puppy.

Especially since I'm on the edge of a neighborhood.

I don't even get to take him out for walks or to play fetch.

Oh well, it's time to make sure he doesn't die of dehydration or starvation. Then I can get back to climbing into bed with my sweet little omega.

I only realize I didn't lock the front door when I hear it pop open.

My gaze slides from the guest bedroom to the hallway that leads to the front door. His moaning and begging can't be heard from outside. I know because I've checked at length, but from inside the house, it's a completely different story.

Fuck me.

This isn't good.

Here's hoping it's just another of the Andrettis' hired killers here to try their luck.

Annika's wavy brown hair peeks around the hallway that leads to the front door, and my stomach drops.

Goddammit.