Chapter Four

Hayden entered the room and found Bozz Stanley Wilcox, the head of the Wilcox crime family, sitting behind the desk.

The crime boss appeared older than his photo and Hayden was suddenly reminded of Christmas because Bozz could have doubled for Santa Claus during the holiday season.

With his bushy white beard and equally white mustache, the man’s bright blue eyes and wrinkled face had Chris Kringle written all over him. He was portly too, with that round build, and the whole picture was finished off with a shiny brow, and bushy eyebrows.

Fuck, even his nose was cherry red. But what sat on the desk in front of Bozz was no present that any mother or father with half a brain would ever give to their kids.

Stacks of money from selling drugs were piled high and by the number of bundled Benjamins, Bozz’s business had had a very lucrative night.

“What?” Bozz didn’t sound too happy to see him and that was when Hayden noticed the packages of drugs sitting next to the money. Each small clear plastic bag held white powder that Hayden knew would soon end up on the streets and someone’s child would be addicted or worse, dead.

Well, shit.

It was all true. Bozz was a monster of the worst kind.

Hayden lifted his gun and pointed the barrel at Bozz’s heart, and he lifted his hands real slow up in the air and stayed like that.

They both stared at each other for almost a minute and it was fifty seconds too long and Hayden knew it. He needed to pull the trigger before someone came back there or Bozz got smart and reached for a weapon.

“You want the money? Drugs?” Bozz gestured to the stacks on his desk.

“No,” Hayden said distastefully, gripping the gun tightly.

“Hello, Bozz.”

Hayden gnashed his teeth when Ice spoke behind him. He hadn’t even heard the door open, that was how quiet Ice was. The tall blond man stepped around him and stood at his side.

“Goodbye, Bozz,” Ice stated, andput two, snick, snick, into the man—one in the chest and one in the head before turning toward him.

Before he could fully process that Ice had stolen his portion of the job, Ice grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the office before shutting the door quietly.

Hayden wanted to protest when Ice took the gun from his hand and tucked it back into his shoulder holster out of sight.

“Come on,” Ice said softly and Hayden followed him out the back door.

It was an exit Hayden had been too nervous to see. Damn it. Ice shoved him into the dark alley and Hayden suddenly couldn’t get warm in the cold Denver night. He shivered and rubbed at his own arms.

Boots crunching over the gravel of the vacant back parking lot had him spinning around to find two of Cobalt Security’s bodyguards, Jaxon West and Gunner Morgan, walking toward him.

Jaxon wore his long hair in a half knot and strands were falling loose, a black leather jacket, dark jeans, and combat boots. The man had the poise of a rockstar god and when Jaxon yanked him into his arms, Hayden was too fucking surprised to do anything but hug him back.

“Call me when you’re on the road,” Gunner quietly said to Jaxon and then got into a black SUV and drove out of the parking lot.

Jaxon turned away without a word and Hayden found himself ushered into the man’s dark gray pickup. The heater blasted and after a few minutes, Hayden was able to stop shivering.

“Okay, you can say it,” he croaked.

“Say what?”

“I make a piss poor assassin.”

“You’re a bodyguard, Hayden. You only kill to protect.”

Jaxon sounded so sure. Perhaps he was right, but Hayden wasn’t going to say so. Truly though, he’d only ever shot someone when they’d come for someone he was trying to protect, so maybe there was some truth to the words.

“So why did you take this job?” Jaxon growled, put the truck in gear, and drove away from the bar.

Hayden shrugged.

What could he say… that just once he wanted to do something outside of being a Cobalt bodyguard? He wanted to do something Jaxon wasn’t a part of?

Which reminded him of Jaxon leaving him and going for weeks to California without asking him to go nor a thought of what that would do to them, but he had and he couldn’t get the thought nor the feelings out of his head.

They’d been best friends for years and even closer since Ryder had married and was no longer around much, at least that was what he’d thought. Perhaps that was his first mistake thinking Jaxon wanted him around and on jobs. Friends didn’t take off without a word.

Obviously, thinking about it now, he realized he’d been wrong. He didn’t bother to answer Jaxon’s question, because again, what could he say?

Instead, he pulled his Sig Sauer P365 from his back holster and opened the large, modified glove compartment. Inside lay Jaxon’s FNX-45 tactical suppressor-ready handgun and he tucked the weapon inside and also his spare. Might as well be comfortable while traveling.

When Jaxon turned the truck south on the freeway on-ramp instead of in the direction of his motel, Hayden glanced around.

“Where are we going?” He frowned. He had his go bag and a burner phone in the motel room.

“To see a friend of mine. Logan may take a job from him. So, we may be gone a couple of days.”

“And Gunner?”

“He’ll meet us there.”

Hayden squinted. He didn’t work for Logan any longer, but Jaxon didn’t seem to care.

“Solomon has my phone and ID,” he said instead of reminding the guy they weren’t co-workers. “You know that’s protocol.” The no cell phone policy was one of Erebus’ assassin’s rules. Never carry phones or ID on your person while doing a job—in case it could be used to trace back to their main contacts and information. Erebus rules—leave it all with the boss and pick everything back up along with pay when the job was complete. Since Ice had done the whole hit, did that mean he wasn’t going to get paid? Damn Jaxon. He scowled.

“We’ll get you a new one.”

“But I like my Mickey Mouse phone case.” Yep, he pursed his lower lip.

Jaxon shook his head and Hayden had to admire the man’s restraint. Right about now, Jaxon should be sighing and making grumbling noises about him being a smartass but then would flash him a smile.

But he got none of that tonight.

“And I don’t have anything packed,” Hayden finished with a huff, and even that didn’t make the man smile.

“I grabbed a bag for you when I was getting mine.”

“Control much?”he wanted to snap, but held it in. Jaxon was a controlling SOB, but in all honesty, it was one of the man’s endearing qualities because he did it out of love.

“What if you didn’t find me tonight? Who would have taken Logan’s job?” Hayden goaded.

That ought to show him, he thought. Oh yeah, that sounded really tough. He silently groaned and gazed out the passenger side window.

“Nobody,” Jaxon murmured. “Logan would have waited or let the job go.”

Guilt washed over Hayden. “Shit.” He scrubbed at his face and leaned back against the expensive gray leather seat that was several shades darker than the paint of the brand-new Ram 1500 TRX pickup.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sounding anything but.

“Talk to me.” Jaxon threw him a worried look before returning his eyes to the road. “What’s going on?”

“Other than you need a haircut?” He smirked and then grinned when Jaxon tossed him a scowl.

“Quit stalling.”

“I’m supposed to be the one with long hair.” He flipped his blond hair over one shoulder and completely stalled, as Jaxon called it, before waving his hands in the air for emphasis.

A muscle ticked in Jaxon’s jaw. “You don’t have a patent on hair length. Besides, I thought you liked mine long.”

“Who told you that?” he deflected and reached into the backseat to pull out a backpack that he was sure was filled with snacks. They never took a case or worked a job without bringing food along. Plus, he was not getting into a discussion about why Jaxon had grown his hair long. Hayden already knew the answer to that question because he’d once asked. He clearly remembered what Jaxon had said—he did it to attract more dates.

Dates! Like Jaxon West, sex god, badass in leather, needed more flipping dates. What a joke.

Anyhow, it became apparent that Jaxon didn’t recall telling him that little bit of information and Hayden rolled his eyes before digging into the pack. He made a sound when he came up with string cheese wrapped in plastic.

“Give me one of those.”

“Not happening, you only brought two.” Hayden snatched both cheeses out and set the bag between them.

“Right, one for you and one for me.”

“But I’m hungrier, so I get both.”

“How do you know I’m not starving?” Jaxon squinted, but Hayden saw the smirk lifting the corner of the man’s mouth. A dimple popped in Jaxon’s unshaven cheek.

“No. Besides, you always find time to eat,” Hayden reminded him. Of the two of them, he was the one to forget to eat and was constantly reminded by Jaxon—who always seemed to call him skinny.

“Okay, you can have it. You’re too thin as it is.”

And there it was. If Hayden had been a more sensitive guy, he would have taken offense, but he actually liked his trim form.

Hayden shook his head, peeled the string cheese, and leaned toward Jaxon. When the man opened his mouth to say something, Hayden poked the cheese between his lips, making Jaxon half gag.

“There. Happy?” he said, acting like he was the one put out.

Jaxon coughed and pulled the cheese out to take a bite and at the same time, threw him a dirty look.

Ahhhhh, it felt like old times.

“So, you wanted to work as an assassin?”

Hayden gazed out the window, taking a bite of the cheese. “Something like that.”

“So, how’d that work out for you?”

Hayden snapped around to glare at Jaxon. “Don’t be an ass.” He was suddenly pinned briefly beneath Jaxon’s stormy gaze, but didn’t give a shit if the guy was judging him. “Just because I couldn’t shoot Santa doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you,” he growled around a bite of cheese.

“Santa?” Jaxon’s eyes went wide and the sound of the man’s deep laughter did funny things to his stomach.

The laughter hurt.

Damn it.

He hated being laughed at when he wasn’t being funny. Perhaps Jaxon needed a reminder of the fact that Hayden had kicked his ass in the past and could do so again very easily. If Jaxon thought he was returning to Cobalt Security, the guy could think again.

“I’m not going back.”

Jaxon shot him a glare and then turned back to the road, his big, tattooed hands curled tightly around the steering wheel.

“We will see.”

“I’m serious.”

“Sure you are.” Jaxon’s skepticism was thick.

“You know what, Jaxon? People can act stupid on occasion, but you abuse the privilege!” he hissed.

Jaxon’s chuckle rang loudly in the cab of the truck.

Damn the man.