Veiled Target (A Veilers Novel) (20 page)

And no matter what, so was she.

Her quandary sent pinpricks of razor-edged pain to her heart. A slow death from heartbreak had begun. Was this how Max had felt?

Rolling over to her side, away from the lies in the file, she brought her knees to her chest and wondered if there was a way to avoid it all. Could she stay away from Hugh? From the job that had given her purpose, but now had her doubting its integrity? A chill shook her and she blinked back tears. Disappearing would physically remove her from pain, but emotionally escaping from harm was impossible.

Then she considered how it all began. The blind date she’d been reluctant to accept had set in motion a series of events she’d never anticipated. Was it a coincidence or fate that had brought them together? After a few slow deep breaths to ease the ache in her chest, she thought the latter.

She’d never put much stock in destiny, but quietly evaluating the circumstances of the last week, an overwhelming awareness struck her as if it were a tangible object.

She was meant to be with Hugh.

Meant to save him.

Or was she simply meant to help him find Trey? Guarantee the Night Runners had a leader in place after Hugh’s elimination. Since she’d done that, fulfilled her end of the bargain, there was no reason to feel this teeter-totter emotion.

So stop thinking about it! Get over it and move on.

If she didn’t take that advice, she’d grow stagnant and be of no help to anyone. A sharp pain pierced her temples. She massaged her forehead, but it did little good. A moment later, the jangle of the door handle startled her and she bolted upright.

“You ready?” Kensie asked, opening the bedroom door just far enough to peek inside.

“In a minute.” Tess gathered up the papers and file folder off the bed.

“Francesca’s chomping at the bit so hurry it up, okay? She’s got to meet with Christian before you.”

Tess walked to the door and opened it wide, knocking Kensie off balance. “Tell Francesca to leave without me if she can’t wait.”

“Aww, come on now. She’s just grumpy because she wants some better cases. She thinks you get all the good ones.”

“What would you say if I told you I don’t want any more?” The words flew out of her mouth so fast she didn’t have time to stop herself or realize what she’d said. What she’d just revealed.

Kensie’s mouth dropped open. “Any more cases?”

“Forget it.” She turned away.

Grabbing her arm, Kensie said, “I can’t forget it. What’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything was wrong. She wasn’t about to tell Kensie, though. For too long she’d kept things bottled up inside, perfected automated responses and superficial small talk. Yes, Kensie was her friend, the closest thing she had to family. And yes she’d just slipped damaging information, but it was easily covered up. For as much Kensie’s benefit as her own. The less her friend knew about what had happened with Hugh, the better.

“Nothing’s wrong. I meant any more good ones, silly. I want a few bad ones. You know, a couple of easy marks I can take care of with my eyes closed.” She shrugged off Kensie’s hand, while putting on her best “don’t worry” face. “I was even thinking I might like a vacation. I can’t remember the last time I got more than two days off in a row.”

No, she wasn’t thinking about vacationing with Hugh. She. Was. Not.

“You sure that’s all it is?” Kensie could always read her moods.

“I’m positive. Tell Francesca to hold her horses and I’ll even mention to Christian that the next top priority job ought to go to her.”

“Okay then. See you in a few.”

The bedroom door closed and Tess hurried into the bathroom to finish getting ready for what might be her last trip to P.I.E.

When forty-five minutes later they strolled into the well-appointed office, Tess’s stomach back-flipped. The clandestine operation tucked several floors below ground level inside a Los Angeles high-rise had never before made her queasy. Today the copper walls, marble flooring, refrigerated temperature and minimal furnishings took discomfort to a new level. She’d swear
Alien
was about to burst from her belly.

Francesca headed to see Christian, and Tess and Kensie chatted with the front office secretary, a lovely woman who had been with P.I.E. for only a few months. She wrapped her thick arms around each of them in a hug that suggested motherly pride and affection. After a few minutes of pleasantries, Tess took off for her small corner of the sterile environment.

She stepped into her fancy-shmancy office, threw Hugh’s file on her desk and took a seat in her swivel chair. God, she’d spent endless hours here poring over assignments and feeling like she was helping rid the world of evil. She’d been a dutiful employee and thrived on going undercover and eliminating. The mental reminder that all her previous targets had deserved to die didn’t help the sour stomach plaguing her.

Her phone buzzed, a red light blinking in Morse code to alert her that Christian was ready to see her.
Time to put on your tough girl persona, Tess. Don’t let him see what’s going on inside you. Don’t give him reason to doubt your strength.

She walked down the hallway and tapped on his door.

“Come in,” he commanded.

The hundreds of time she’d entered before didn’t make this any easier. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Have a seat.”

One never sat unless instructed to do so. She took the single velvet upholstered chair centered across from his expansive mahogany desk. “Thank you.”

“How is the Langston case going?” He sat behind his desk like he owned the world. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, black shirt and crimson tie, he oozed confidence. His dark brown hair reminded her of Bobby Darren’s in
Gidget,
her favorite movie when she was a teenager. Too bad the similarities ended there.

His eyes betrayed any semblance of decency. He leered at her, thin dark slits seeing, she knew, far more than one would expect with so little openness. If she looked at them too long, it felt like spiders crawling up her neck.

“Fine.” She couldn’t muster anything else to say.

“The client has phoned me several times inquiring as to when the elimination will occur.”

“I’m working on it.” Okay. That was better. She’d gathered more vocal strength.

“I told him it would be taken care of by Friday because I need to pull you from the case for a couple of days.”

Tess hoped her shock didn’t show. She prayed he couldn’t detect the fluctuation in her breathing pattern. He’d never pulled her from an assignment before. Never. Was he trying to leave her as little time as possible to take care of Hugh? Was he on to her?

“I don’t”—she paused, trying to correct the little glitch in her voice—“understand.”

He lifted his hands from his lap and placed them on the desk, one on top of the other. His silver and diamond pinky ring sparkled. “What is there to understand? I’m assigning you to an elimination that you must finish up in the next two days. Then you will return to your undercover work with Langston and kill him.”

There were too many damn questions swirling in her head so she decided to start with the new target. “Finish up? The assignment’s started?” Another first. What the hell was going on?

“Francesca’s been compromised. I just took her off the case. You’ll go in and finish. I’m confident you can handle it.”

Worry circulated through Tess. Had he given Francesca the same ultimatum he’d given her? Would she have one more chance to prove her worth too? “Why not assign Kensie since I’m on assignment already?”

Silence from the man across the desk.

Which gave her time to think.

Truthfully, being pulled from Hugh’s case for a couple of days might be a blessing in disguise. She needed distance from him. Needed something to keep her busy and remind her that she was a contracted assassin.

“I take that back. I’m happy to do it.”

“Exactly.” He handed her a single piece of paper. “This fact sheet is all you need. Francesca finished the preliminary work. All I want you to do is infiltrate and eliminate by Thursday. I trust that won’t be a problem.”

“No problem,” she said, reading over the sheet. In fact, it looked like a piece of cake. So easy that she might have time to get to San Diego and locate Dobson before Friday as well. Because she needed to find him before she could figure out what to do about Hugh.

“Back to the Langston case,” he began. “I sense some apprehension from you.”

The guy never missed a beat. That was why she knew she had to tell him the truth about what she’d found out.

“Yes. My investigation hasn’t turned up anything to warrant elimination.” There. She’d said what she came to say.

“I don’t care,” he said, his voice unwavering, authoritarian. “You are to eliminate the target on Friday.”

Since she’d never uncovered information to prove a Veiler innocent, she wondered if this would have been his standard reply on previous cases. She didn’t think so. Something about the way he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t let any more air escape his weathered lips than was necessary, told her this time was unique. Why?

“Actually, information I’ve found proves he’s—”

“Guilty. I told you this was your last chance. If you do not follow through with the elimination, there will be consequences.”

“Like me at the bottom of the river? You told me. I know.” Suddenly, his threats held little power over her. Once she found Dobson and figured out a way to save Hugh, he could put twenty-pound ankle weights on her for all she cared.

“Not you. Kensie and Francesca.” His lips barely moved yet the message came through loud and clear.

A weight knotted the back of her throat and plummeted to her stomach. Horror at the words he’d said swept a chill over her lips and down her spine.

He didn’t care about Hugh’s innocence. And he didn’t care about punishing her friends—and his employees—if she didn’t comply.

She’d dedicated herself to P.I.E. and in the blink of an eye she hated herself for it. The man she’d thought worked with integrity did no such thing. He’d just solidified her worst fears and confirmed all her doubts.

She hated him. Hated him for taking her loyalty and…and… God, if she’d been complicit in eliminating other innocents, what did that make her?

Goddamn him. She held her breath as she willed her body not to shake and her voice not to waver when she said, “This is my deal. Take it out on me and me alone.”

“I’ve come to the conclusion there’s no fun in that. You’re reckless, brash. Couldn’t care less about what happens to you. And despite your recent failures, still my best employee.”

She studied him, wishing like hell she’d figured him out sooner. “You don’t care whether or not this Langston guy is innocent?” She tried to sound detached, apathetic, while her insides twisted at the mention of Hugh’s name.

“Last chance,” he reiterated, returning his hands to his lap.

The client definitely had an ulterior motive. And her boss…was he in on it?

During her twelve years with P.I.E. they’d never talked much about Veilers.
Funny,
she thought, staring him right back in the eye—something that made up such a big component of her occupation was the subject least talked about. Instead, they all carried out their jobs without examination.

“Can I ask you a question?” she ventured.

“You can.”

“Have you ever met a Veiler you liked?”

The slits of his eyes narrowed further and while slight, his eyebrows furrowed, causing a wrinkle above his nose. She’d caught him by surprise. Seconds ticked by before he shifted his weight to the side of his high-back leather chair.

“Yes.”

An honest answer, she surmised by his contemplation, and one that scared the hell out of her.

Two days later, a cool breeze wafted in through the bedroom window as Tess sat motionless in the middle of the floor. Her legs were crossed, hands on her knees, back straight, head forward. She stared at a tiny speck on the wall beneath the open window.

She took a cleansing breath in. Held it, slowly let it out. Repeated this for the umpteenth time. The wind picked up outside, the Santa Ana breezes stirring up pollen, dust and trouble. The unsettling air tore her attention away from the focal point she’d tried to maintain for the last twenty minutes.

Trouble. She was shoulder-deep in it.

The digital numbers on the clock next to her bed said 8:26. Three hours and thirty-four minutes until Friday. Not that she was counting.

The elimination she’d been assigned to take over for Francesca turned out to be more difficult than she thought. It had taken the entire allotted time. Not because she’d lost her touch. No. She was still the best goddamn eliminator out there. She could have had the deed done in the first few hours. No one would have been the wiser. There was just one problem.

She didn’t want to do it.

She couldn’t bring herself to kill him.

The
him
was a forty-something working-class man and demon. He owned his own business, had a family and yes, had done some nasty things.

But he wanted to change.

When Tess had caught him earlier that evening in the act of stealing a man’s soul in the alley behind his small Italian restaurant, he’d slumped to the ground and confessed his sins…

“I can’t help myself, Tess. I want to better myself and what better way than taking the good I see in others?”

“You’re killing innocents, George,” she answered.

“I know,” he groaned, “I’m cursed. If my wife finds out, she’ll divorce me. My kids won’t want to see me. I’ve been trying to stop, really I have, but the devil won’t let me. Says I traded my soul to marry the love of my life.”

She looked down at him, his potbelly stomach hanging over his belt. “Did you?”

“Of course I did. But that’s beside the point.”

“What’s the point then?”

He pushed himself up against the brick wall, but still his double chin was evident. “True love.”

“Come again?”

“I want to be a better man for my wife. I want the goodness in me to overcome the demon. To beat it. What the hell did I know twenty years ago when I agreed to the deal? All I knew was that I was madly in love and would do anything to marry her.” He took a deep breath, looked up at her with reminiscent eyes. “There was another man, you know. A better man than me. He had money. Lots of it. She would have left me for him.”