Hostage (Predators MC #3) (31 page)

“What’s the job?” Shadow cocked an eyebrow, his interest definitely piqued.

“Two people. The client wants it to be public. He said he wanted the world to see,” Reaper told him, sounding almost bored. “I tried to talk him out of it. You know how messy public executions are. The authorities are more interested, there’s a higher chance of capture, and the like. Regardless, he was insistent, offered extra, so of course, I told him I would use no one but the best.”

“Who are the marks?” Shadow inquired. “Wait,” he said, a small bump outside the door suddenly putting him on edge. Shrugging, he decided he would take care of it later. “Sorry, go on.”

“You’ve heard of Jupiter Technologies?” Reaper asked.

“Everyone has one of their phones or computers.”

“It’s the CEO, Simon Daniels, and his daughter and Vice President, Scarlet.”

“How much is he offering?”

“Three million American dollars, but of course, I would take my customary five percent.”

“Of course.” Shadow didn’t bother to ask who had ordered the hit. Reaper was the only one with that information, and he didn’t share. Although, Shadow had his suspicions.

“Do you think you can do it?” Reaper asked, sounding amused. “I can call someone else, or you know, you’re always free to reach out to another member.”

Being a member of the club was the highest honor for an assassin, but it came with a few rules: You never revealed the club’s existence; Reaper always took a cut of the profits; and if help was required in any way, the other club member was to always agree… for a price—either another favor down the line or for money.

“I can handle it,” Shadow snapped. “There’s a reason you called me. You need the best, so that’s what you’re getting. But I want the money as soon as the job is finished.”

“Of course. I’ll deposit the money into your specified account, as usual. This is a big job, Shadow. Don’t disappoint.” With that, Reaper was gone, and the line went dead.

As Shadow shut the phone, he couldn’t help thinking about the job at hand. He knew exactly who had just hired him. Gregory Aspen had been trying to acquire Jupiter Technologies for years. It was public knowledge. Shadow couldn’t help thinking, from the news and papers, that Aspen was definitely unhinged and that, if he truly were the one who had hired him, he was a fool, given that his hatred of Daniels was very well known.

Personal feelings about his clients aside, Shadow had accepted the job, and he was a man of his word. It was time to get to work. It wasn’t every day such high-profile targets were named, and the money being offered was unheard of. It was more than enough to set him for life, even with Reaper’s portion taken out.

He walked across the floor to his desk, pausing to pour himself a drink before he sat down, ready to begin. Downing the whole of his scotch, he turned on his laptop and looked up the two people who had unknowingly made his early retirement possible at the ripe old age of thirty-two.

Google yielded quite a lot of information about the father/daughter pair: personal histories, business deals and acquisitions, even where Scarlet had gone to school.

As Shadow looked into the duo, searching for a way to reach his goal, he couldn’t help admiring the girl who had worked her way through the ranks, earning her role as vice president. It was unheard of for an heiress to actually earn their fortune. A close-up photo showed a raven-haired beauty with gorgeous bright eyes, though he couldn’t decide if they were blue or violet.

He felt something strange come over him as he looked at her pictures. Lust, definitely, but there was something else, as well. A feeling he was unfamiliar with.

He kept digging, and it didn’t take long before he found her wedding announcement. He wasn’t at all surprised to see that it had been cancelled only a few months later. The article detailing the story had a picture of the girl getting into a limousine, her hand covering her face from the many photographers. The image struck a chord in him, and Shadow felt inexplicably protective. He wanted to shield her.

“Focus,” he told himself, shaking his head. He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything for the girl. He took pride in the level of detachment he steadfastly maintained on every job he took. It was this cold professionalism he had become known for; it made him one of the best and able to demand higher fees.

He continued his research and, sure enough, he found the famous feud between Daniels and Aspen that had led to his hire. Apparently, Aspen owned the second largest technology company, second only to Jupiter Tech. They had been rivals for years, but just a few years ago, it was rumored that Daniels had stolen some component that would have made Aspen millions and catapulted his company to number one. Even though Aspen had taken Daniels to court over the matter, there had been no evidence of any wrongdoing on Daniels’s part, and he had gotten off scot-free. Thus, the feud had begun.

Moving on, Shadow kept digging, looking for their homes, their work building—searching for the best way to complete his mission. He ran his hand through his chestnut-brown hair and exhaled. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

He had just decided to pack his bags and leave for New York to study them in person when he refreshed his screen.

“Hello. What is this?” he asked himself. “
Jupiter Technologies partners with O’Cleary Cancer Foundation to host Charity Gala at the New York Opera House
,” he read aloud. The article detailed the collaboration of the gala to be held at the Metropolitan Opera House in two weeks. And Simon and Scarlet Daniels would be attending. Shadow could hardly believe his luck. He would have to hurry, but it could be done.

He pulled open his desk drawer and carefully lifted the false bottom, cleverly hidden and rigged to set fire to the contents if opened incorrectly. He reached in and pulled out his most useful defenses: his passports and false IDs. Shuffling through, he pondered whom he should be this time. He chose one at random, his bed beckoning him.

After locking the room behind him, he returned to his bedroom and slipped back into bed. Then he reached over and woke the unknown woman, having decided he was going to celebrate his new life of luxury a little early and get rid of the image of the beautiful Scarlet Daniels while he was at it.

She was just as eager as before. Her legs wrapped around his slender hips, pulling him in deeper. Dropping his mouth to her neck, he unwillingly thought again of his next target. He wondered how she tasted and imagined tracing her lips with his fingers. And when the woman beneath him cried out in pleasure, it was still Scarlet he was imagining.

The woman was breathing heavily, still feeling the aftershocks of her climax, when Shadow gripped her neck tightly in his hand.

“Oh, someone’s naughty,” she said seductively.

“You have no idea,” Shadow said huskily. “I hope your little attempt at eavesdropping was worth it.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide with fear as Shadow’s grip tightened on her throat.

Reaching up, he grabbed her chin, and she slowly started to relax. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, though, his other hand came up to the top of her head, and he twisted. Her neck snapped easily, and Shadow shoved her body off the bed. It landed with a muffled
thump
on the plush rug.

Deciding to deal with it later, he turned over in his now empty bed and drifted to sleep, his mind swimming with the promise of a fortune while a beautiful raven-haired girl danced at the edges of his dreams.

T
he night of the gala
, everything went according to plan. Everyone on her team had really pulled through, and Scarlet couldn’t have been more proud of the way things had come together. Her first big project was a massive success.

Even her father looked better than he had in months. He was smiling and had even told her that he was proud of her, something that had only happened twice before: at her graduation from Brown—majoring in business, of course—and when she had broken up with Bradley.

Though,
Scarlet thought to herself,
he probably only said it that time because I was doing what he wanted
.

He had really outdone himself this time. His tux was perfectly tailored to hide his weight loss, and his hair and makeup had been expertly done to hide his sunken cheeks and thinning hair. Trying to maintain a sense of privacy, only his doctors, board members, and Scarlet knew of his terminal illness.

As always, Julie stood close by just in case he needed anything. He looked like the giant she had grown up with, and she couldn’t help smiling at him.

It was as if the universe had aligned in her favor for once, though it had been a difficult process. While the Opera House had immediately agreed to host the gala, there had been a few snags along the way. The caterer they had originally booked had cancelled only three days before. Scarlet had nearly torn her hair out in frustration. Fighting the urge to scream, she had personally called every other caterer in town before finally finding one on such a short notice who was willing to take over—at almost double the price, of course. She was still annoyed by that.

O’Cleary’s Cancer Foundation had decided to give her the runaround the first few days, too. Her assistant, Julie, had reached out to their public relations representative within minutes of Scarlet’s request, but the rep, Starla, had refused to call or email Julie back until several days after the original phone call. To her credit, Julie had called and emailed several times a day. As a result, Scarlet had pulled some strings and called Mr. O’Cleary herself, explaining the situation. He was deeply apologetic and promised to resolve the matter himself.

“I am so sorry for any trouble you may have experienced, Ms. Daniels. Of course, we would be more than delighted to partner with you for such an event, and I will personally make sure that everything is taken care of post haste,” he had said in his deep Irish brogue.

True to his word, not even an hour later, Julie had received both an email and a phone call from the new public relations representative for the Cancer Foundation. It seemed Starla had been relieved of her position.

Scarlet whirled around the floor in her sparkling midnight-blue gown, her black hair tumbling around her face in elegant curls as she marveled at the scene around her, her eyes taking in every detail. The Opera House was her favorite place in New York, and the beautiful lobby was packed with people. New York’s elite had all turned out, anxious to see if the rumors that Scarlet was taking over Jupiter Tech were true.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlet allowed her mind to wander for a blissful moment, admiring the beautiful chandeliers that always reminded her of fireworks and the glorious winding staircase before being snapped back to attention.

“Great party, Scarlet!” one woman called.

“Such a great cause!” an elderly woman said, grabbing her wrist to try to chat.

“You look stunning!” came from an older gentleman Scarlet knew was only looking for a young woman to accompany him home.

With so many people talking and trying to get her attention, Scarlet’s head was spinning. She thought she would get whiplash from trying to speak to each person as she worked her way through the crowds, security trailing behind. One of the first lessons her father had taught her was how to mingle with the who’s who of society. As proud as she was, it was still crushing to hear the biting comments many had about her and her rumored ascension to CEO. For each positive comment, every piece of praise, she heard two in disagreement.

“She’s so young,” she had overheard an unknown woman in a flowing red dress whisper to a well-known actor as she’d walked up the carpeted staircase behind them. “I can’t believe Simon would be foolish enough to name her CEO. I mean, just look at her. She’s a child.”

The actor, whose name escaped her at the moment, murmured his agreement. “It’s so true,” he had begun. “She’s only, what? Twenty-eight?”

The woman had nodded.

“Not old enough to run a company the size of Jupiter Tech.” The actor downed the rest of his champagne and switched his empty glass with a full one from a passing waiter. “However,” he’d continued, taking another sip, “her father knows her better than any of us. He must know she’s ready, even if we can’t see it.” He winked at Scarlet, just noticing her presence next to them.

The woman, who had not seen her, had pursed her lips in displeasure but said no more.

Scarlet had continued ascending, determined not to let the woman get to her, though it was a fruitless effort since there were many more hushed discussions throughout the whole party.

She was relieved when Julie came and told her it was finally time for her father’s speech.

Ushered to the stage that had been set up at the junction where each winding staircase met, Scarlet took her place behind and slightly to the right of the podium, next to a cute redheaded representative of the O’Cleary Cancer Foundation, while her father approached the podium. Though he tried very hard to hide it, Scarlet could tell he was in pain.

“My dear friends, it is my absolute pleasure to welcome you here this evening, and I want to thank you for your generous donations in the name of furthering cancer research and helping to erase this disease. Unfortunately, Mr. O’Cleary could not join us, but he sends his sincerest thanks for your donations and wishes he could have been with us tonight.

“As many of you have speculated, we have gathered here this evening not only to join together in a just and honorable cause, but to make an announcement, as well. I see no point in beating around the bush, so here it goes. Effective Monday, I am retiring as CEO of Jupiter Technologies, and my daughter Scarlet will take the reins,” Simon declared to the crowd as Scarlet stepped forward, taking her place beside him at the podium.

The crowd immediately erupted into a frenzy as the rumor was confirmed. As previously discussed, they were keeping her father’s diagnosis completely private. They did not want the company to seem weak or vulnerable during the transition to new leadership, and after everything, they had decided her father needed his privacy while he dealt with his illness.

“I have every confidence in her,” Simon continued as the noise dimmed. “She will be excellent, and I am proud to be able to give her this opportunity to not only challenge herself but the company to reach greater heights and do things the world has never seen before.

“And now, back to the party! Again, I want to thank you all for your patronage to such a great cause and for your attention and patience as I deviated just a bit from our main goal.”

Scarlet felt her face grow hot under the stares and whispered conversations as she and her father were escorted off the podium. The crowd clapped politely, and Scarlet could barely hold it together under everyone’s scrutiny. Now that the rumor had been proven as fact, the judgment began full force, despite people smiling and congratulating her on her new position.

All of a sudden, a shot went off right next to her. People screamed and scattered. She had no idea what had happened as she and her father were grabbed and pulled out the back.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw more security swarm the front of the building. The frantic shouting of the other patrons was the only clue she had about what had happened.

* * *

S
hadow had arrived
from London the week before the gala, all his plans in his head and a burner phone in his hand. Other than observation, he was ready for his big job, but he had one stop to make first: Little Italy in Lower Manhattan.

He headed to a small butcher’s shop run by a boisterous Italian man who, true to fashion, was named Salvador and was one of Shadow’s oldest friends.

A little bell chimed over the door as he walked in, and he heard a familiar voice from the back, “Just a minute!”

“Sal, are you too busy playing with your meat to come say hello to an old friend?” Shadow called back, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Somewhere in the back, there was a large crash and a man who could have only been Sal came out of the back, cursing, “You son of a bitch.” His thick Italian accent came out as he walked around the display to hug Shadow. “You couldn’t have called to say you were going to be in town, huh? And you almost gave a poor old man a heart attack.”

“Oh, come now, you’re not old yet, Sal. A little rounder than I remember, but certainly not old,” Shadow teased.

“I know, I know. I got fat.” He sighed, placing his hands on his round stomach. “But it’s all Lorena’s fault. She cooks enough to feed the whole neighborhood. Which, now that I think about it, you should stay for dinner. She would love to see you.”

“And I her. But unfortunately, this is not a social visit. I’m here on a job, and I need a little… assistance.”

Sal’s eyes lit up at the words. “Anything for a friend. But,” Sal said, his voice becoming stern as he wagged his finger at Shadow, “you must stay for dinner. You know Lorena would never forgive us if you were in town and didn’t go to see her. Now, what do you need?”

“I need a sniper rifle. This is an important job, so I need your best. Don’t hold out on me,” Shadow detailed. Bringing weapons across the pond was doable, but Shadow preferred not to have the extra scrutiny that weapons invariably brought. He preferred to make contacts with reputable arms dealers and rely on a bartering system when traveling far from the United Kingdom.

“I think I have just what you need…” Sal winked at him then went into the back.

Shadow knew he kept all his secrets in a hidden wall, including his vast array of impressive weapons. Sal was a master arms dealer, but to the outside world, he was just a simple butcher. Whether you wanted a gun or a prime cut of steak, Sal was your man.

As Shadow waited, he walked around the store, looking at the various cuts of meat, his mind wandering to the first time he had ever met Sal fourteen years before.

He had been on his very first solo mission. Alone in New York, he had barely been eighteen, and terrified. Taking pity on the young boy’s inexperience and seeing his potential, Reaper had given him a call and directed him to the butcher shop. Back then, Sal had been a much more impressive figure. Tall and tan with bulging muscles and a fierce expression, he had looked like someone straight out of the Italian mafia.

Shadow thought back, remembering how silently Sal had been standing there, sizing up the scrawny teen who had wandered into his shop, claiming to have been sent by a friend.

“I don’t know any friends of yours, kid. Beat it before you get hurt,” he had said, staring him down.

“Th-the Reaper sent me,” Shadow had stammered, and Sal had raised his eyebrows.

“
Reaper
sent some snot-nosed punk into my shop? He just wants me to get arrested, doesn’t he?”

“Um, well, he said you could help me?” Shadow had said.

Sal’s face had softened, and he’d asked nicely, “What’s your name, kid?”

“Steven,” Shadow had lied. It was the first rule he had learned: never reveal your name. “Shadow” had come later, once he was a full-fledged member of the club.

“What’s your real name, kid?” Sal had asked again.

“My name is Steven,” Shadow had replied a little more firmly, and Sal had chuckled.

“All right, all right. You’ll tell me in your own time. Now, tell me more about what Reaper told you about me and this ‘job’ you’re on.” Sal had smiled at him.

From that moment on, Sal had treated Shadow like a son and friend, often giving him pieces of advice, letting him borrow some of his favorite guns, and introducing him to his alarmingly extroverted wife, Lorena, who, just like Sal, treated Shadow like her own son. Every time he was in the States, Shadow would make it a point to stop by and see Sal and Lorena, even if he wasn’t on a job.

Shadow was startled out of his memory as Sal shuffled out of the back room and around the counter.

“Will this do?” Sal asked, and Shadow’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the most beautiful rifle he had ever seen.

“Perfectly.”

Later that night, lying in his comfortable hotel bed and stuffed with homemade ziti and tiramisu, Shadow dreamed about all the money he was about to receive and, though he didn’t remember the next morning, a pair of almond-shaped blue-violet eyes floated into his dreams.