Good Intentions - Adrian Hell #6 (Adrian Hell Series) (20 page)

That won’t ever happen to me. You know why? Because I ask questions. I find out information for myself. I don’t take things at face value from the people who hire me, because I’m a paranoid sonofabitch. I make sure the job is done cleanly and that the target deserves to be on the business end of my Beretta. If I’m not satisfied by what I find out, I turn the job down and walk away.

D’you know what? If The Order of Sabbah doesn’t like the way I do things, they can kiss my ass! They hired me for my skills, not my personality. They would’ve done their research on me, they would’ve asked around… they would’ve known my reputation before they approached me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m well within my rights to ask for some information when I’m putting my ass on the line.

Pierce was surprisingly helpful earlier, offering me some much-needed insight into how The Order works. But I’m not happy with what he said. A handful of people making decisions on behalf of everyone else never works out well for everyone else. I can guarantee that any decision made is in some way beneficial to the person or people making it. Or, at a push, the highest-paying clients.

He mentioned Mr. Way. For me, that was a cut-and-dried job. The guy sold women and girls to wealthy men, essentially for the purposes of sexual slavery. No one will ever convince me that killing him wasn’t the right thing to do. But what I’m not convinced of, is that there wasn’t a bigger picture being considered when the contract was taken out on him. I think they do go around killing all sorts of bad people, for no other reason besides they were bad—which I consider almost honorable. But what I don’t like is when they start serving their own agenda and disguising it as the greater good. Shit like that sounds a little too familiar, and history proves it’s never a good thing when people do it.

I slam the palm of my hand down hard on the wheel.

“Goddammit!”

I can’t believe I’ve been so blinded by everything that I didn’t see any of this coming. I knew something was off, from the moment I woke up in that bed. But I carried on anyway. And where has it got me? I only have one friend in this new life, and now I have to kill her or risk having my head blown off my shoulders.

I grip the wheel tightly with both hands until the color drains from my knuckles. I can feel myself getting angry and frustrated. I’ve not been myself since waking up in that weird room. I rolled with it for a while, but when the honeymoon was over, even I managed to recognize there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Hence the therapy. Which, don’t get me wrong, has been helping—much more than I thought it would. But there’s still something not quite right. It’s as if a part of me is missing. It’s not the killer instinct, it’s more…

I let out a long sigh as I realize what I’m getting at.

It’s the desire. The passion. My heart’s just not in it anymore. It feels as if I was doing this for so long simply because I had to. But when I moved to Devil’s Spring, it was over for me. I didn’t have to do anything. And that made me happy. But this life caught up with me and ruined everything. I was forced back into this world and I resent it for making me pick up my guns again. And now, after everything I’ve been through, I’m stuck in this vicious cycle, unable to ever walk away from this life again.

All this therapy has changed the way I look at things. It’s made me question things I would otherwise have taken for granted. Maybe that’s why I’ve been questioning everything. Why I’ve been so reluctant to put my faith in The Order… I’ve been looking for a reason to back out, to stop myself from committing to my new life… Because I don’t want it. I either want my old life, to be me, or nothing at all.

I should have just…

I reach behind me and take out the Beretta tucked into the back of my waistband. I hold it low, resting it on my lap. I look down at it, admiring its beauty, finding comfort in the feel and the weight.

I look around casually. The neighborhood is quiet. The temperature’s at its hottest right now. The light blue sky is free from the blemish of any cloud, and the sun is bright and intense. I could be the only person in the world.

I lift the gun up, bringing it closer to my face. Everyone I’ve ever cared about is either dead, or thinks
I’m
dead. I’m essentially a prisoner in my own life, condemned to an existence of violent slavery, working for an organization that exists only in myth. I have no freedom. I can never rest. My life, such as it is, belongs to someone else, and I’m not sure I can live with that.

I flick the safety off, work the slide, and place the barrel against the fleshy underside of my chin, in the middle of my jaw. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

Fuck it. There’s no one to miss me. I’ll finally be free. Free from the guilt. Free from the sadness. Free from…

I open my eyes and breathe out slowly.

Fuck!

Who am I kidding? We all know I’m too proud to take the coward’s way out. It’s too easy, and I don’t deserve that. If I’m going to find peace, I should be made to suffer first. To fight for it.

I put the safety back on, place the gun down on the seat beside me, and start the engine. I check my watch.

Shit. I’m already running late…

17

15:39
AST

I sit down heavily in my usual seat and glance out the window. The glare from the sun is still reflecting brightly off the windows in the nearby buildings. I let out a long, tired sigh and look over at Kaitlyn Moss. She looks slightly disheveled, which I suspect is due to a full day in a warm office. She takes off her glasses and cleans the lenses with a piece of cloth.

“Sorry I’m late, Doc.”

Kaitlyn puts her glasses back on and nods. “It’s no trouble, Brad, though I do usually prefer a bit of notice if you can’t make the original appointment time. Luckily, I had a cancellation this afternoon, otherwise we’d have had to re-schedule.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just… it’s not been a great day, and you’re pretty much the only person I trust enough to talk to about things right now.”

She shifts in her seat, re-crosses her legs, and clasps her hands on her lap. “So, tell me what’s happened?”

I feel a little overwhelmed when I think about how to answer that question. I have to tread carefully here. I can’t say anything that would give her the impression I’ve broken the law in any way, but it’s difficult to think of a metaphor to apply to what’s actually happened that both tells the story accurately enough that her feedback can be useful, but remains vague enough that I don’t get in trouble.

I take a deep breath. “Well, I… acted without thinking earlier today. I put myself in danger to help someone close to me, and I’ve ended up putting them at risk through my actions.”

“This person who you’re close to… is it Lily?”

I nod. “That obvious, huh?”

She shakes her head and smiles. “Not obvious, but an educated guess.”

“Yeah, she came to me for help, and I offered it, but I didn’t consider the consequences of my actions, and now I think she might be in danger.”

Kaitlyn nods along thoughtfully. “Could you perhaps be seeing danger where there isn’t any? Yet again, you’ve assumed this natural role of protector… Are you possibly looking for danger as a means to justify your actions?”

I can’t help but feel as if I’m wasting her time. While I’ve no doubt what she’s saying is phenomenally accurate, based on the information I’m giving her, the fact I’m not giving her a true account of what’s happening in my life means her advice is irrelevant and, ultimately, worthless.

I shake my head. “I… don’t think so, no. I happen to know she’s in very real danger right now, and that’s a direct result of what I did. I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to help her. But I didn’t think far enough ahead to take into account the consequences, and now she’s…”

Kaitlyn puts her hand up. “It sounds as if you’re assuming the blame for something you had no direct control over. No one can plan for something that may occur unexpectedly. All you can do is what you feel is right at the time. It’s as if you’ve expanded the guilt cycle we spoke about and you’re allowing it to encompass every aspect of your life. That’s no way to live, Brad.”

I nod. “I know. I… ah… I considered killing myself before I came here today.”

She’s visibly shocked, but only for a moment. She recovers quickly and frowns. “How long have you had those thoughts?”

I think about it. I remember back in the day, before everything went to shit. When it was just Josh and me, blasting out classic rock songs as we ran from the loss of my family. In the early days after losing them, I thought about eating a bullet every second of every day. Quite seriously. It was Josh who kept me going, until I began choosing to keep going myself. That feels like a lifetime ago.

I shrug. “Not long. I was just sitting in my car before, lost in my thoughts, and my mind just kinda… drifted toward the idea. It made sense at first. I even put a gun right here…” I point to the flesh underneath my chin. “…but when I actually—I dunno—
entered
that moment, I just felt detached. It was almost as if I knew exactly what was happening, and simply talked myself out of it. I see that as the coward’s way out, and that’s not who I am. I think maybe I needed to test myself—to put myself in that position to see how it would make me feel.”

“And how
did
you feel?”

“Honestly? Like I should live, if only to suffer through life for the choices I’ve made that have hurt other people. The memories of the people I couldn’t save deserve more. They should be able to rest knowing I’m being torn up inside, over and over again, for the pain they felt because of me.”

“Okay… ignoring for a moment the fact you’ve just admitted being in possession of a firearm, the fact you put yourself in that position and chose to live is a good thing, whatever your reasoning. That’s a big step forward. I don’t believe you’re a risk to yourself or others. I think you needed to test yourself, like you say, to see how far you could allow yourself to go, and I think you satisfied that curiosity. I think the next step for you is learning
how
to live.”

She’s looking at me expectantly, but I’m not sure what I should say. I mean, she’s right.
Obviously
she’s right. But what can I say? I can’t exactly tell her the situation I’m in…

Or can I?

No, I can’t. Don’t be stupid, Adrian.

That’s not the kind of shit you can just—

A red dot has just appeared on Kaitlyn’s chest. I feel my eyes grow wide as I process the million different thoughts currently bombarding my mind. I know exactly what it is. Someone’s aiming a sniper rifle at her. What I don’t know is why.

The large window on my left looks out at the neighboring office buildings. Whoever’s holding the rifle has to be in one of them. The dot is steady, which means either the rifle is mounted, or the shooter has a very strong arm. I glance sideways out the window. There are three buildings with line of sight, but only two of them are as tall as, or taller than, the one we’re in.

Fuck!

I don’t know who it is, why they’re doing it, or even how they know where I am, but right now, all the questions can wait. I need to keep Kaitlyn safe. I need to—

“Brad, is everything okay? You look a little… alarmed.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah… listen, this might sound a little weird, but do you mind if we sit somewhere else?” I point to the large space next to me, away from the window. “If I move my chair there, will you sit where I am now?”

Kaitlyn frowns. “May I ask why?”

The dot hasn’t moved a fraction since it appeared.

Shit, shit, shit!

I need to remain calm, but I need to hurry up.

I shrug. “I’d just feel more comfortable facing the window, that’s all.”

She seems to think about it, but after a moment, she stands. “Of course, if that’s what you would prefer.”

I get to my feet and dash over to pick up her chair, making sure I’m standing between her and the window. “Allow me.”

I’m not worried about getting shot. If whoever it is with the rifle wanted me dead, they would aim at me. The fact they’re aiming at Kaitlyn tells me they know who I am, and they want to send me a message by attacking someone I’m close to, so to speak.

She smiles politely. “Thank you.”

I reposition the furniture and sit facing the window. I scan the buildings opposite for any sign of movement, but can’t see anything. The dot has disappeared.

Doesn’t mean the threat has, though.

Who could possibly know I’m here?

Kaitlyn clears her throat. “Brad, are you sure you’re alright? You seem very distracted all of a sudden…”

“Sorry, I just—”

I snap my head left and stare at the door.

What was that?

I frown. There was a loud noise somewhere below us. It sounded as if it came from outside, on the street. I look across at her. She clearly heard it too, but the look on her face is one of confusion more than concern, thankfully. It wasn’t on our floor—it was too distant—but we’re three floors up, so whatever it was had to be big for us to hear it at all.

An explosion?

Perhaps, but I think we would’ve felt some kind of physical repercussion from the blast. Whatever that was, it wasn’t powerful enough to shake the building itself. So it wasn’t a bomb…

A breaching charge?

Hmmm… that’s a little more likely. Which would be very bad. Most normal people wouldn’t use something so specialized to attack a building, which means whoever’s coming in is trained, and has access to that kind of equipment.

Kaitlyn stands. “Do you mind waiting here a moment? I’m just going to see what that—”

I get to my feet and grab her wrist as firmly and as gently as I can. “Ah… actually, I think you’re maybe better off staying here. Let
me
check it out, okay?”

She pulls her arm free of my grip and furrows her brow. “Brad, I appreciate the sentiment, but while you’re here, you’re in my care, and for insurance purposes, unless there’s a fire, I can’t let you leave the office if there’s something wrong.”