‘O-kay.’ Ken wasn’t sure if that was Decker’s sense of humor or a touch of insanity. He wasn’t certain that he cared. ‘I’ve had a long day. I’m going to grab some shut-eye while Sleeping Beauty in there sleeps off the ketamine. Wake me when he comes to.’

‘You want me to extract any information from him?’ Decker asked quietly.

‘No. He’s my friend, my responsibility. I’ll get what I need.’ With that, Ken turned away and walked down the hall to his own bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door, exhausted. He was glad Demetrius would be under for another few hours.

Ken had killed two people today and ordered the deaths of four more. Drake Connor’s sister and Reuben’s wife had been taken care of. Drake and Marcus O’Bannion were still out there, causing trouble that Ken didn’t even want to think about. He’d lost his security chief and found out that Reuben and Demetrius had been stealing from him. Maybe even working together.

He’d been told by his own daughter that he was getting too old for his job. Maybe she was right.

Because he didn’t have the energy to extract information from Demetrius at the moment. In the quiet, his heart hurt. He and Demetrius had started out as a couple of grad students selling weed to their peers and together built up a company worth millions, serving customers in more than forty-two countries. Selling them just about any perversion they desired. He wasn’t ashamed of that. There would always be buyers for that sort of thing, so there would always be sellers. Might as well be me.

He stripped off his shirt and stood in front of his mirror. Yesterday he’d been proud of his reflection. Now . . .

His cell phone began to buzz, and he prayed it wasn’t Decker saying Demetrius was awake. Luckily it was Sean. ‘What’s up?’

Sean sighed. ‘Dad, I just heard something on the police radio you need to know about.’

Ken sank down to sit on the edge of his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘What?’

‘An unidentified woman was found in a cheap motel about twenty minutes ago. The front desk says they have no record of her having checked in, that she broke into the room, OD’d on a sedative and went to sleep. Description matches Reuben’s wife, Miriam.’

‘She’s dead, right?’ Ken had given her the sedative himself and Burton had taken her to the motel to die.

‘No. Unconscious, but not dead. The chatter said the police were responding to an anonymous 911. Just thought you should know.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Ken pinched his nose harder. ‘She got picked up twenty minutes ago? But she should have been dead hours ago. I gave her enough sedative to take down Reuben, for God’s sake, and she weighs half what he does. If he’s still alive,’ he muttered. ‘If Miriam is alive, somebody pumped her stomach.’

‘Or made her throw it all up.’ A pause, then a tentative ‘Didn’t Burton drop her off?’

‘Yeah,’ Ken said flatly. Burton who hadn’t wanted to kill her to begin with. Reuben’s second-in-command had history with Reuben’s wife. Burton hadn’t allowed her to die. He’d arranged for her to be saved, putting them all in jeopardy. Especially me. Because Ken had forced Miriam to drink the damn sedative.

‘Do you want to buy me out?’ he asked Sean abruptly. ‘Alice said the two of you did.’

‘Maybe. We’d have to clean house.’

Ken huffed bitterly. ‘If we keep on losing people, cleaning house won’t take too long.’

‘Do you want me to find Burton?’ Sean asked quietly.

‘I know where he is,’ Ken said. ‘And I know that you’re aware of my phone trackers.’

‘I wouldn’t have been a very good IT person if I hadn’t known,’ Sean said reasonably. ‘I don’t hold it against you.’

Ken was quiet for a long moment. ‘Can you handle Burton? He’s a big guy.’

‘No, but Alice can.’ It was said with no bitterness or ego. Sean actually sounded proud of his sister, who’d gotten the lion’s share of Ken’s athletic genes.

‘She’s not . . . you know . . . with Burton too, is she?’ Ken asked with a grimace. ‘Not like she is with DJ.’

Sean chuckled. ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Ken shuddered at the image. ‘No. Just get Alice, find Burton and bring him here. I’m not sure where she is. She said she was going to finish off O’Bannion.’

After ending the call, Ken kicked off his shoes and lay on his bed, too weary to take off his pants. The image of Stephanie Anders doing it for him flashed in his mind like unexpected fireworks.

‘No thank you,’ he whispered to himself. Stephanie Anders was not anyone he would ever take to his bed – and on top of the day he’d had? Ludicrous.

But maybe that was his subconscious trying to tell him it was time to get out. Once he fixed this mess, he’d take his personal bank accounts, along with those of Demetrius, Reuben and Chip Anders and he’d retire.

Once he fixed this mess.

Twenty-five

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 11.30 P.M.

Marcus rubbed his mouth, his lips still tingling from that kiss in the hospital parking lot. Finally, he thought. After nine months of telling himself that he’d only drag her down with him, he’d finally silenced that voice in his head.

There was only one small wrinkle – she hadn’t asked him about the kidnapping and Matty. He wondered if she’d had a chance to Google what he’d told her to. She’d been a tad busy, after all. Maybe she hadn’t had time. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know if she had. Because if she hadn’t and if by some chance she had forgotten, he didn’t want to bring it up.

Except that she had a right to know. He couldn’t keep something like that from her. He’d tell her after all this was over, after he’d had a chance to get to know her completely. After he’d had a full night with her and had woken up with her at least once. He’d have something to take away with him then.

Or maybe he’d tell her and it wouldn’t matter. It was possible. She’d taken the Ledger activities with a surprisingly open mind. But that was different. His team at the Ledger was like a modern-day Mission: Impossible team. They’d never actually killed anyone, although he and Diesel had come close a few times.

But what he’d done after Matty died was very, very different. He had killed someone – even if his finger hadn’t been on the trigger. He stared down at the gun in his lap. It might have been a murder weapon – the murder weapon, even. He simply didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

But he did know that every time he carried it, he put himself at risk. When it’d just been himself to worry about, that had been okay. Hell, it might even have been part of the allure. But he didn’t just have himself to worry about anymore. Scarlett had put her career on the line for him. She’d stood with him.

He’d have to put the gun away, in his safe where it wouldn’t cause her any trouble. He took it from the pocket holster and ran his thumb over the barrel. It was not lost on him that he’d caressed Scarlett’s skin the same way a few minutes ago.

The gun had become more than a mere weapon long ago. It was a talisman, just as his knife was, but for very different reasons. Using a different gun would take some getting used to, he thought. But if it uncomplicated even a portion of their lives, it was a small price to pay. Because now that he’d held Scarlett in his arms, now that he’d tasted her lips and watched her face as he made her come . . . and now that he’d felt her hold him so tenderly that he’d thought his heart would club its way right through his chest . . . He knew that he was not letting her go.

He slipped the gun between his seat and the car door, where he could get to it if he needed it, then took his laptop from its case and opened the threat list. He cleaned it up, removing any references to his staff or the more questionable things they’d done, then emailed it to Scarlett.