Bullet to the Heart (3 page)

“What the fuck’s going on, Rand?” Ken’s voice was controlled, but a vein of fury wound through it.

“They made a play. You need to get to Seattle now,” Rand responded as his gaze explored every shadow and corner. The rain continued to fall, though he was shielded from the drops by the building’s overhang.

“I’m on my way.” Just that, nothing more.

A cab pulled up to the front just as Rand zeroed in on the corner of the building farthest from him. A woman, petite with striking long red hair, walked out of the far entrance, umbrella in hand and a large handbag on her shoulder.

Something about the way she walked, so fluid and relaxed, nothing out of place on this cold, rainy day, made everything in Rand go on alert. She was too calm, too composed. But her eyes—they never stopped moving, touching on her surroundings ceaselessly. When her gaze landed on him, it skimmed and returned. Something sliced through the brilliant blue orbs. An infinitesimal widening of her eyes, a small moue of her lips, and the feeling of alertness inside him ramped up to dangerous levels.

Rand tensed as his body hardened in a rush, every muscle drawing tight in preparation for a fight. The nameless something was veiled as quickly as it appeared, and their moment of connection was broken as she stopped and stepped into the taxi.

Rand hit the last number that had shown up on his phone. The one that had called and offered the warning. He waited while it rang.

The woman, a beautiful sliver of light in the abysmal conditions, settled into the cab, and Rand was offered a tantalizing view of pale, slim calf before the door closed.

The woman spoke to the driver, and he began to pull away. Then lightning struck Rand as she lifted her phone and looked directly at him, beautifully painted red lips moving, drawing his gaze.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

She could taste the shock of his presence on her tongue, slightly bitter, but tinged with a certain sweetness she couldn’t place. Remi licked her lips and took a deep breath.

He was a gorgeous man. His pictures hadn’t done him justice, but the heat that shimmered along the bridge of sight between them had her heart beating in triplicate and her lungs laboring for air.
This is not good, Remi. Not good at all.

“Shouldn’t have done what?” he demanded, voice hard but curling through her body like warm butter.

End the conversation, damn it.
“Come after me,” she whispered into the phone.

The cab passed him. He hadn’t moved from his position beside the column, hadn’t come after her in any way. A shiver passed up her spine and settled a warning in her brain. The man was too controlled by half.

Her heart squeezed, nearly closed off her throat. His gaze tracked her and the connection between them was tangible. So much so that she almost had the cabbie stop so she could step out into the arms of the man who’d raced after a sniper.

She shook her head.

“Lady, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but I’m going to do more than just come after you. I’m going to hunt you down and repay what you’ve just done ten-fold.”

He meant it. Could his conviction lead him to her? She was a ghost. A figment of reality. Nothing but a harbinger of death.

She turned in her seat, looked over her shoulder, and watched as he finally walked to the curb, staring hard after her departing taxi. She shuddered as his hand flexed and his eyes, even from this distance, smoldered with rage.

“You can try,” she replied softly. Then she lost her ever-loving mind. “I’ll welcome the challenge.”

“That was a good man you just sniped. Donnie Parker had done nothing to you. Tell Joseph I’m coming for him too. I’ll kill you all,” he promised in a voice dark with all things retribution.

She snorted at his assertion about Donnie Parker. “Perhaps you didn’t know Mr. Parker as you think. Perhaps you should dig a little deeper into your employees’ pasts before you trust them with your life, eh? Perhaps,” she paused and inhaled slowly, deeply, “you should thank me for not taking your head instead of his?” She laughed with no humor, the sound dull and lifeless to her own ears. “You may hunt me, Mr. Beckett, but I think in the end it will be to thank me for sparing you today. Goodbye.”

“What the fu—”

Remi disconnected before the epithet completed. He would never thank her, but they’d meet again, sooner than he thought. She turned away from the back window. He’d disappeared from her view as they’d turned left.

“Take me to King Street station, please,” she requested of the cabbie as she broke open the phone and destroyed the inside of it. She wiped it down and within seconds tossed it out the window.

He glanced at her in the rearview and nodded. “Locker number four-five-four. I do not know your next destination,” he informed her in heavily-accented English.

“
Ce n’est pas grave, non?
” He didn’t respond and she leaned her head against the back of the seat. Her hands shook and she tried to center herself. Joseph would know very soon, if he didn’t already, that the primary target hadn’t been hit.

Her entire world had just gone the way of Mr. Parker’s head. She smiled and felt a piercing satisfaction that her journey had begun so smoothly.

Remi reached for her bag, knowing within minutes things would again change, this time irrevocably. Once her hands touched the cold black metal of her Gemtech silencer, they calmed. Her heart settled and her breathing steadied.

The interaction with Rand Beckett moments ago was placed into her lockbox of memories for analysis at a later date. The matte-black beauty of her Walther P22 sang to her, and she reached for it, cradling it in her palm, letting the frigidity of the metal ice over the parts that had warmed at thoughts of Mr. Beckett.

She loaded the silencer onto her baby and waited. It wouldn’t be long now.

The cabbie slowed, darted a glance both left and right, before he reached with his right hand to the seat beside him. He turned and her world slowed as the cab rolled to a stop in an alley, everything coming at her as if underwater.

“Joseph says you’ve let him down. He won’t allow—”

The hole bloomed in his forehead, neat and round, smoking even as the blood began to dribble down his brow and over his nose. His eyes had widened in knowledge that split second before his brain had been ravaged by the hollow point. She did not regret this life-taking. She couldn’t afford to.

Fuck what Joseph would or would not allow. She wasn’t his anymore, would no longer be a pawn in his games.

“I know you can hear me.” Though she whispered, her words were loud in the silence left by death. It wasn’t the man slumped over in the front seat she spoke to. It was the one far away who even now sought to control his creation.

Rain dripped down from the gray sky above, tiny ticks of frozen ice pelting the glass. It was cold outside. She placed her baby back in her bag and grabbed the door handle. “You won’t see me, but I’ll be the second to the last thing you ever know, I promise.” She let the quiet invade her soul, gave a few moment for her words to sink in. “We’re coming for you, Joseph.”

She stepped out of the idling vehicle, put her bag over her shoulder, and reached for her umbrella. The sirens wailed several blocks over. Remi didn’t know what panic felt like. Fear either. Those memories, the flavors of those emotions, were too distant to recall.

She didn’t open the umbrella, keeping it close to her side instead as she began to walk north. A cop car sped past her, but she maintained her pace, walked with ease even in the cold rain. Ahead another cab pulled down the street and she waved it over, settling in when he stopped.

“SeaTac, please,” she murmured.

“Sure, lady. Lemme turn around up here, and I’ll get you right there,” the gruff-looking older man replied. “Something big went down a few blocks over, and I wanna avoid that location like the plague.” He chuckled, mumbled something about degenerates and lowlifes, then turned the car around.

“I wonder what happened?” Remi knew this game backward and forward. She had to blend in, appear to be nobody in particular, a curious non-entity.

It was second nature, like a skin she wore until she could shed it in the real light of day. She laid her head back against the headrest and watched as the buildings passed her by in a blur. Seconds became minutes as they made it to the expressway and began their journey to Seattle’s airport. The silence in the car was ominous. A curious tightening in her limbs warned her that all was not as she was hoping it would be.

She lifted her head, met the cabbie’s gaze in the rearview, and a flash in their rheumy depths triggered her to action. She ducked, covered her head as the car careened into the guardrail, smashing at almost full-speed into the retaining wall at the side of the highway. She heard the screech of metal, felt the concussion as the engine exploded and flames shot through the wreckage. Pain took her breath, the impact having thrown her to the floor, causing her to hit her head. Glass pelted her face and hands, brought blood.

Her ears rang, and smoke consumed what was left of the interior. She had to get out, and as she lifted up, she noticed the rear passenger doors were gone. She was trapped between the front and back seats, the car having caved in from the force of the hit. She wiggled, felt her hands slide on the leather in front of her, and recognized she had injuries.

Remi took a deep breath and let ice encase her. She lifted her head, searched for a way to get out of the burning heap of metal, and found that if she wiggled forward, she was able to move easier than sliding back.

Sounds infiltrated the crackling of the flames that surrounded her. People calling out, asking if anybody was alive. She pushed them aside, focused on one goal, getting free. Painful moments followed, the heat from the fire drawing closer.

“Lady! There’s a lady!” one woman yelled, and suddenly, Remi was being pulled from the car.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you now,” a frantic voice said.

Get the bag and the umbrella, Remi. Move!
She sat up, pushed her hair out of her face, and looked around, her gaze finding her target. She made it to her knees, gagged, and shoved away the hands that reached for her.

“Lady, somebody’s coming to help you. Just lie down, you’re safe,” a man urged.

“I’m okay,” she managed to get out before she gained her feet and staggered back toward the burning car.

Someone grabbed her arm and she turned, struck out with the heel of her palm, and dropped the man. He writhed in pain and others quickly backed off, but she turned away and continued on.

She reached the burning husk of the car, located her umbrella, and reached in. A sharp metal edge caught her upper arm and ripped into the flesh there. She winced but snatched out her umbrella, and then her bag.

She swayed as she stepped back, felt hands at her back, and once again turned ready to take out anyone who would try to stop her.

Her head was swimming, eyes burning, arm stinging.

“Lady, I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but you’ve got to come away from this car!” A woman this time.

“Get your hands off me, okay? I’m not safe,” Remi ground out.

The woman instantly pulled her hands back as she stepped aside. Remi pushed forward and ignored the calls from the bystanders to wait for help. Instead she moved to the roadway that was quickly becoming congested with cars stopping for the wreck.

“Hey!” someone yelled. Remi ignored them, intent only on getting away from this place, right now.

She walked out into the highway, held up a hand, and someone stopped. She calmly limped around the vehicle and opened the passenger door. “Can you give me a ride?”

“Uh, sure?”

Definitely more question than assurance.

Remi folded herself into the compact car. Her hands were on fire but she held tight to her bag and umbrella.

“Lady, did you just come from that wreck?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes, I did. But I need a ride, okay?” She moved her sodden hair from her face.

He didn’t press the accelerator and her heart beat hard. She cocked her head, wondered at her body’s reaction. That could not be fear. She looked in the door’s mirror and saw flashing lights coming closer. He had to move.

“Can you please just go?” Desperation made her voice strident. She was unable to control the tone and her hands began to shake.

“I think you need an ambulance. People are gesturing for you to get out. . ." he trailed off. It had become difficult to convey his thoughts properly with a gun at his cheek, pressing lightly. “Okay, I’ll get us on the road,” he said quickly, putting the car into gear and hitting the gas.

Relief was a sweet coolness through her veins. She throbbed from head to toe. One shoe was missing, but she had the bag. And the umbrella. She was good. She slowly lowered the weapon. With a weathered eye on the side-view mirrors, she took her first full breath, barely held in a hiss as the pain infiltrated every inch of her skin.

“Get off in three exits,” she breathed out heavily.

“Yes, ma’am.” The driver was doing well, considering she’d threatened him with a gun. She’d offer him some money, though he’d probably never forget this day.

Five minutes went by, cars passing them and being passed in return, before they made it to the exit she’d requested.

“Pull over at the end of the ramp,” she instructed him in a low tone. Her shoulder was numb, her abdomen cramping, and her left leg was burning. Jesus, what kind of people did Joseph have working for him? Willing to kill themselves for an objective?

She snorted. He had people like Remi working for him. Enough said. The driver stopped as she’d instructed him. Probably the sight of her gun resting on her leg imbued his acquiescence.

“Get out,” she ordered.

He looked at her like she’d grown another head. She leveled the gun at his face.

“I don’t want to shoot you. I don’t know you. Tell me, are you a good man?” she asked softly.

His gaze roamed frantically, searching for a way out of the situation. He didn’t move a muscle.

She cocked her head again, brows lowering as confusion swamped her. His face wavered in her vision and she shook her head to clear it.
Get it together, Remi. Keep it together. You’re almost out of this.