Lance: A Hitman Romance (Santa Espera #2) (19 page)

Katie

God, did they have to tape my hands so tightly?

The chair I’m sitting in is uncomfortable. They took the bag off but there’s duct tape over my mouth. I try crying out, but nobody helps me. My hands are bound behind my back, and my feet are taped to the legs of the chair.

But at least I’m in the corner, which means I can see this entire room.

It’s large — maybe it was a storage room before, given the lack of windows. There are only eight people here, besides me. Four of the men walk around carrying guns, but they look nervous, uncomfortable. There’s one guy standing by a heavy-looking metal door with a bolt on it. That must’ve been the one we came through. There’s another door with a window against the far wall. I think it looks into a kitchen, but it doesn’t look like anybody’s in there, and besides, nobody’s guarding it.

The guy in charge — Gil — finishes screaming at Lance and ends the call on his cell phone. He puts the thing down on his desk and then turns to Jackson, the only person in here I recognize.

“He should be here soon,” Gil says, and Jackson nods.

“Good,” he says, his eyes darting over to me. There’s a big lump near the back of his head, and I’ve seen him rubbing it every now and again. “I can’t wait to soften that guy up a bit before the kill.”

My heart drops. Lance should know this is a trap … shouldn’t he? There’s only one guy who doesn’t look nervous, but defeated instead. He’s dressed up like an African rhino hunter, and every now and again he gives me an apologetic look. I’m willing to bet that one’s Willy.

“Everybody!” Gil shouts out, addressing the room with his back to me. “When Lance gets here I want all of you on him. He’s slippery, like an eel. You keep that gun on him. Don’t let him try to mind-control you. He can do that, so just be careful.”

Some men exchange glances but nobody says anything. Gil sits down in the chair at his desk and rummages through one of the drawers, then takes out a small vial and proceeds to tap some white powder onto his desk. As he grabs a credit card and starts cutting it up, Jackson saunters over to me.

“So, sweet cheeks,” he says, the first time he’s talked to me since I got here. “Happy to see me again?”

I grimace behind the tape and make a retching noise with my throat. Jackson’s smile washes from his face.

“You know, I’d watch that attitude if I were you,” he snarls to me. “Because once we kill Lance there ain’t gonna be anyone here to protect you. And I still mean to get me a piece of that hair pie. In fact, I may just keep you in the chair while I do. I like you better this way.”

“Mmf fmm mm ffmffm fmm,” I say. Jackson gives me a look.

“What?” he asks, so I repeat it. Jackson’s eyes narrow, but then Willy comes up behind him.

“Look, buddy,” he says, causing Jackson to turn around. “You can’t possibly expect to understand her with this thing on her mouth.”

Willy reaches down and peels the tape from my lips. It stings my face, but once it’s off at least it’s easier to breathe.

“Ah, thank you,” I say to Willy. Then, turning to Jackson, “I said, I like you better dead.”

Anger flashes across Jackson’s features and he raises a hand.

“You fucking-”

But Willy’s fast, and he grabs a hold of Jackson before he can do anything to me.

“Let go of me, you Aussie cunt!” Jackson yells, struggling.

“Hey!” comes Gil’s voice, and both Jackson and Willy look over. Gil’s face looks sweaty, and the white powder is gone. “You two! Stop that. Don’t hurt her before Lance gets here. Jackson! Come here, I need to talk to you.”

Wrenching his hand from Willy and giving me one last dirty look, Jackson stalks away leaving Willy and I alone. Willy turns and looks out over the room.

“Sorry about that,” he says in a low voice. “He never should’ve been let loose in public.”

“It’s okay,” I say. Willy looks down at me, and he gives me another apologetic look.

“I’m Willy,” he says. “Lance and I are friends. I don’t know if he mentioned me …”

I nod. “He did. And I could tell who you are. You’re the only one here who doesn’t look like an idiot.”

Willy suppresses a smile, but then it fades again.

“I’m the one who told him to go see you,” he says, shaking his head. “This … you being here, this is all my fault.”

“No, hey,” I say to him. “This isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault but his.” I look over at Gil, who’s speaking in a low voice to Jackson. Willy sees them and nods.

“Lance is in danger,” he says, and my heart plummets in my chest.

“I know. I only hope he realizes it’s a trap.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt he does. It’s just that there aren’t many ways out of here. And he’s a bit outnumbered.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

Willy tilts his head. “I’m not sure. If — when — the shooting starts, I’ll try to protect you. Lance is quick on the draw, and I might be able to take a few out myself. But it’s Jackson I’m really worried about. He’s the one who’ll give Lance a run for his money. Once he starts shooting, I don’t doubt-”

“Willy!” We both look over to see Gil staring at us. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just telling this one to keep her mouth shut,” Willy says. Gil narrows his eyes for a moment.

“Come here. I have to talk to you.”

So Willy walks away and I’m left in the corner, facing out into the room.

Everybody is quiet. There’s tension in the air. Willy leans over as Gil mutters into his ear. Men prowl around, every now and again looking over at me. I see their eyes move up and down my body, and it makes me grimace to wonder how they can think of sex at a time like this.

Quietly, I try to pull at the tape keeping my hands together. It’s tight, and I can feel the hairs on my arms being pulled out. But even so, it’s starting to loosen.

Suddenly, there’s a movement. Something small, and against the far wall. I look at the window in the unguarded door and see Lance’s face.

My heart skips a beat in my chest. He’s only there for a few seconds before disappearing, and I glance around the room. Nobody else seems to have noticed. I wait, my heart pounding, but nothing happens. Part of me thinks I imagined it. It’s not until half a minute later that I hear Lance’s voice call out from beyond that door.

“Gil!” he shouts, a sharp noise, and everybody starts, turning their head in that direction. Several guys raise their guns, the rustling of metal only amplified by the silence in the room.

“He was supposed to use the front!” Gil hisses.

“I told you, we should’ve guarded the back!” replies Jackson.

“Shut up!” Gil whispers. And then, “Lance! Come on out! Come and join us!”

Lance responds, “You’re not going to just shoot me when I come out, are you?”

“What? No!” Gil replies with a laugh. “Nobody’s going to shoot anyone!”

“Then why are all your guys aiming their guns at the door?”

Gil hesitates a moment, and then laughs again.

“Ha ha, ahh, you are a slippery one, Lance! Okay everybody, lower your weapons.”

The men all do as he says, slowing lowering their guns. They look unsure, uncertain of what’s going to happen.

“Okay, they’re all down!” Gil shouts, and through the window I see a small mirror appear for a second before disappearing.

“Okay!” Lance calls out. “I’m coming out!”

And then the door opens slowly and Lance steps out into the room. He doesn’t have a gun in his hands. Every single person around him is quiet.

The air is thick with anticipation. Inside I’m screaming,
Damn it, Lance! It’s a trap! He’s going to kill you!

The door behind him swings closed again and Lance looks around the room. He looks at the men scattered about the room, at Jackson and Willy standing by the desk, at me taped up in the corner, and then at Gil, standing next to Jackson. Lance smiles.

“Gil,” he says amiably. “Buddy. What’s going on? What’s with all the metal?”

“Don’t
buddy
me, Lance,” Gil says. “You’re not my buddy. You haven’t been my buddy since day one.”

“I’ve been your employee,” Lance tells him. “That’s the same as being your buddy.”

“No,” Gil says, and I can hear the pouting in his voice. “You know what being a buddy is?” He walks over to Jackson and stops beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Being a buddy is doing whatever your boss tells you, no matter what. Being a buddy is not going behind his back and telling lies to his face.”

“What?” Lance furrows his brow, keeping the smile on his face. “Gil, I may have backed out of that job, but I didn’t lie to you.”

“Oh.” Gil nods, and he takes his arm from Jackson as he starts taking slow, rambling steps around the room. Lance’s eyes follow him. “Oh, I see. Oh you didn’t lie, is that right?” Gil stops and looks at Lance. “Lance … how loyal would you say you are?”

Lance narrows his eyes. “How
loyal
am I?” Gil nods. “Loyal enough to work for you for three years.”

“Hmm,” Gil takes another few long, rambling steps as he seems to think. “Interesting, interesting. And what about your friend here?” He turns to look at Willy, whose eyes open wide. “How loyal would you say he is?”

It happens in the blink of an eye. Before Willy can move Jackson’s got his arms behind his back, and at the same time Lance’s gun is out of his holster and is pointed directly at Jackson’s head. The other men scrabble to get their guns up, pointing them at Lance, and by the time they’re all raised some of them are shaking, constantly adjusting their aim. Gil raises a hand and calls for quiet, and those with their guns out freeze while Willy struggles against Jackson.

“Hey! Hey!” Willy shouts as he tries to get free. “What in the fuck?”

“Now now, be patient, Willy,” Gil says, looking at him. “There’s no need for anybody to get hurt. I just want to clear a few things up.”

He motions for everybody pointing a gun at Lance to lower it, and they do, cautiously. Lance hesitates a moment, and then slowly lowers his gun too. Jackson gives him a wide smile.

“Okay,” Lance says. “What do you want cleared up?”

“Yeah? What the fuck is this about?” Willy shouts.

Gil smiles. “You and Willy. You’re old friends, is that right?”

“Yes,” Lance responds at the same time that Willy says, “Yeah!”

“Mm yes.” Gil closes his eyes and nods. “I remember. You both came to work for me at the same time. And, … how
long
have you two been friends?”

Willy shouts out, “Since we were kids!” He struggles again but Jackson holds him tight.

“Since we were kids,” Lance repeats, keeping his calm much better than Willy. Gil nods again as he walks around his desk and pulls open a drawer.

“And … knowing each other since you were kids … I’m guessing you two came up with
secret codes
together, didn’t you?”

Gil pulls out a gigantic ornate knife and my eyes go wide. The handle is made of gold, the curved blade at least eight inches long. Lance tenses and Willy stops struggling for a moment, his eyes going wide too as he stares at the thing in Gil’s hand. Indeed, everybody seems to be staring at it.

“Gil …” Lance says in a steady, calming voice. “Think about what you’re doing.”

“I overheard you two talking, Lance,” Gil says, although he’s not looking at Lance now. He’s studying the blade in his hand. “I heard Willy talk to you this morning.”

He takes a step towards Willy, and then another one, until he’s standing in front of him. Willy tries to pull back, but Jackson keeps him where he is.

“And I know for a fact,” Gil says, “that you don’t have a sister.”

“Gil,” says Willy. “It wasn’t-”

Gil’s hand swipes at Willy’s neck and his words are cut off instantly, replaced by a wet bubbling sound.

Lance’s gun is up again, but so are all the others, and behind all the clatter of metal and shuffling feet comes a low choking gurgle.

I stare, fixated in horror, as Jackson releases Willy’s arms, letting him drop to the ground. Willy continues spluttering, blood pumping out of his neck wound and coating the floor around him. Gil casually takes out a handkerchief and wipes the blade clean, then puts it down on his desk. When I look over at Lance, he’s staring at Willy with shock in his eyes.

“I do not abide by traitors,” Gil says in an eerily calm voice. “I hate liars, and I hate people who lie to me.”

Down on the ground Willy has stopped moving. The wet sound of him trying to breathe is slowly fading. Blood pools all around him.

Lance’s gun hand is shaking. He’s pointing it halfway between Gil and Jackson, not aiming at either of them. Jackson smiles, and when Gil finally looks up at Lance again he gives him a penetrating stare.

“How did that make you feel, Lance?” he asks. Lance slowly swallows, his eyes focusing on nothing, his gun still aimed straight out in front of him.

“How did it make me feel?” Lance asks. “How do you think that made me feel?”

“Well, obviously I don’t know, because you might just lie to me!” Gil shouts. “Lance, don’t you get it? All I wanted was to be your friend!”