Kit stripped down to his boxer briefs before venturing into the back of the walk-in closet where he kept his chest with the lotus stamp across the top of it.

Briefly running his hand across the top of it, he thought of the last time he’d opened it, years prior when he was still a part of the Lotus Society.

There had never been a need for him to revisit this part of his life—he could still complete a job without the contents of this box—but for this one, for what was at stake, he didn’t want to risk it.

Keying in the combination on the old lock, he twisted it off and lifted the top, his gaze scanning over the contents with easy familiarity.

Inside were two sets of knives, the handles made of bone, another case with three modified handguns and silencers, a bulletproof vest that was retrofitted with specialized technology that made it lighter than the average one, and finally, his black book.

Each assassin for the Lotus Society had their own code—their own way of remembering the assignments they completed. Kit knew one who kept news clippings of obscure events, but because the date and place were the same, she kept track of her kills that way.

Kit, on the other hand, didn’t use any elaborate code, merely kept the date and time in which his kill was made within the pages of his book.

Seventy pages, twenty lines per page, and he only had nine pages left—eight, at the end of this night when he filled in this slot.

One last job.

Picking it up, he placed it on a shelf nearby before shrugging on his vest and strapping it into place. Then he dressed before arming himself with enough weaponry that he was prepared for anything.

Kit was tucking a dagger into the sleeve of his jacket when footsteps drew his attention from his task to Uilleam coming to stand in the doorway.

Unlike him, his brother wasn’t dressed for war, and knowing him as well as he did, Kit doubted the man even carried a weapon on him.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Uilleam smirked. “It’s been a while, no? Since we worked together like this, I mean.”

Kit shook his head. “That’s because you actually enjoy making an enemy out of me.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch, brother.” He pushed off the wall, going over to the glass globe sitting on a shelf. With a swipe of his finger, he sent the sphere spinning. “I merely like to twist the coils and watch people dance.”

Kit shrugged on his jacket then looked at his brother. “Whatever you say.”

“My mercenaries—”

Stepping around him, Kit went out the bedroom. “I’ve never had need of your mercs, I fail to see why I would need them now.”

“We’re walking into an unknown scenario. While I’m sure you have a mean swing, it’s likely that William Tremaine has enough security that even if you were able to cut them all down, he could possibly get away in the interim.”

“True,” Kit agreed, “but that’s why I have them.”

The Wild Bunch stood at the foot of the stairs, masks and gear in place.

Kit didn’t doubt that Uilleam’s mercenaries were fully capable of handling themselves, but he trusted The Wild Bunch more. He knew how they worked, the way they moved, and furthermore, in the unlikely chance that he couldn’t get the job done, he knew they would be able.

“Let’s move.”

Uilleam was the last out of the house, his phone in hand as he slipped into the passenger seat of Kit’s car.

As Kit climbed in after him, a voice sounded over the speaker. “I have everything you asked for.”

“Then tell me why Elias needs the politician dead,” Uilleam said, buckling his seat belt as they pulled off.

“To be honest, there’s a lot I still don’t understand, but—”

“Then tell us what you do know,” Kit said.

“If you would stop acting like an insufferable toe and let me finish speaking, I’ll get to that.”

Kit arched a brow, surprised at her daring, but Uilleam merely looked amused.

“I’m starting to see why you’re in the doghouse.”

“Winter,” but Uilleam didn’t sound chiding in the slightest. “Tell us what you found.”

“As I was saying. Any connection between Elias and Tremaine is practically nonexistent, but they did have something in common. There’s a bank—Grayson Memorial—that they both have accounts with. Elias’ accounts are obviously buried under a lot of useless information, but I found it.” Winter couldn’t sound more proud if she tried. “Tremaine, on the other hand, his was much easier to find.”

“A moment, Winter,” Uilleam said before putting the call on hold. “Grayson Memorial, d’you know it?”

Kit nodded. “Privately owned and a number of my associates do business through that bank.”

And by associates, he meant the men and women who needed a skilled banker to move their money without detection.

No one knew Grayson’s secret, and how he managed to stay under the radar for so long, but so long as he was able to do his job, no one particularly cared.

Uilleam studied him a moment before saying, “Interesting,” then reconnected the call. “Go on, Winter.”

“‘Cause long silences are totally normal … Most politicians have their vices, and Tremaine’s happens to be hookers—totally original. Interestingly enough, there’s been some chatter about him in my circles. Some think he doesn’t just like to get his rocks off with them—he also has a thing for strangulation.”

Whether a good man or not, the politician would still have to die this night, but it did make it easier knowing the man wasn’t an innocent.

“Send me everything you have on him. We’ll be arriving in fifteen minutes so have the security mainframe down.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“What are you planning?” Kit asked once he was off the phone.

Uilleam tried to keep his expression neutral, but Kit had learned quite quickly how to read even the most minute of expressions. “What makes you think I’m planning anything?”

“There’s no need for you to know anything about William Tremaine. The mere fact that you’re asking about him tells me that you intend to try to use the man in some way.”

“It’s never wise to waste a potentially profitable opportunity. You do your job, and I’ll do what I do best.”

Turning into the community, Kit didn’t argue with his brother, knowing that the man would do what he wanted. Regardless of whatever information Uilleam hoped to glean from the man, Kit was stopping the man’s heart when it was time.

Killing the lights before they got too close to the residence, Kit parked about a block away.

The Wild Bunch didn’t wait for him, moving without instruction toward the mansion.

Uilleam redialed his hacker, waiting until she answered before saying, “Deactivate the alarm.”

“Perimeter is set,” Fang’s voice carried over the comm Kit had in his ear.

“Alarms are down,” Winter said next.

Kit nodded to himself. “Breach.”

“Stay on the line,” Uilleam told Winter. “Find everything you can with the information I give you.”

“Understood.”

Kit was the first out of his car while Uilleam followed at a slower pace. He was calculating, shifting through possible strategies until the moment they were inside the house and moving through the corridors until they reached the sitting room where The Wild Bunch had William Tremaine on his knees.

His eyes were as wide as saucers, but with two guns aimed at his head, he didn’t dare move.

And once they were in the room, Tremaine’s attention shifted to them, his gaze scanning over Kit, though there was no recognition in his gaze.

But when he looked at Uilleam …

Sweat beaded at the man’s brow as he looked between them, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Uilleam helped himself to the chair the man must have been pulled from, regarding him with thinly veiled interest.

There was no doubt he had thought of every possible advantage he could gain by using the man—the question was just which option would benefit him the most.

“Good evening, Mr. Tremaine. I hope we’re not interrupting,” Uilleam said casually, even as Kit stood there with a gun to the man’s head.

“I-I’ve never crossed you,” the man sputtered out, his gaze shifting back to the gun. “I wouldn’t.”

Uilleam actually looked rather happy about that. “My reputation precedes me. I’m glad we won’t have to waste our time on pesky introductions. Now, you have approximately”—Uilleam made a show of looking at his watch— “seven minutes to tell me exactly what I want to know. If you do, I won’t kill you. If you don’t, I will show you in the worst of ways what happens if you displease me. Shall we begin?”

Tremaine nodded his head jerkily.

“Tell me everything you know about Grayson Memorial and Elias Harrington.”

Tremaine visibly paled, his mouth falling open as he seemed at a loss for words, but when Kit tapped a gloved finger to his bare wrist, the man got the message.

“I don’t—”

“Trust me, I couldn’t care less about your hookers and whatever fetish you’re into—I want to know how the money changes hands. Despite being me, very few are willing to share the information with me. They seem to think I’m after their money.” Uilleam rolled his eyes. “As if I don’t have my own …”

“ I don’t know, but,” he quickly added when Uilleam shook his head, “it’s only because Grayson has never, and probably will never, mention the system he uses.”

“There’s not much I can do with that information, I’m afraid.” Uilleam gave a callous wave of his hand, as though giving permission for the man to die, but William didn’t give up.

“I’ve heard a rumor, though,” the man said quickly, “that he has someone who runs numbers for him. No one knows who it is, but it’s assumed that whoever it is holds all of Grayson’s secrets.”

“A banker, then?” Uilleam asked, sounding curious. “A name, if you would.”

“Roger Fitzpatrick.”

Now, that was interesting. Uilleam had already been looking into the man and his connections to Ariana’s boutique, but since nothing useful had come of it, they hadn’t bothered to pursue him.

Now, they might need to take a second look.

“And Elias? Surely, a man of your position must have some dirt on the others who seek out the bank for its services.”

Also because Elias obviously wanted the man dead.

Uilleam might have been interested in the reason behind it—he rather enjoyed puzzles—but Kit was not.

“Three months ago, Elias came to the bank with an offer, but I don’t know what exactly. Grayson wasn’t particularly thrilled about it, but he eventually agreed to the deal because Elias made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

“And that offer was?” Kit interjected, mindful of the clock behind the man’s head that was slowly ticking down to his death.

“I only know that it involves Carmen Rivera.”

Of course, it did.

Because Kit’s life wasn’t already fucking difficult.

“Tell me, Mr. Tremaine, why would Elias send someone such as me to kill you?”

The man flinched at the word ‘kill.’ He seemed to be racking his brain for an answer, but he didn’t wait too long before his gaze flickered back to the clock behind him and he was throwing out an answer.

“I have a friend whose son is running for office—I’ve been offering my assistance with getting his campaign off the ground.”

Kit could practically see Uilleam’s interest in this growing conundrum.

“And this friend’s name?”

Now, Tremaine looked unsure, as though he knew they had reached the end of the line without having to check the time.

This was the last chance he had to save himself.

Just beneath his breath, he offered the name—one Kit hadn’t heard in a long time, but whose very utterance made his brows shoot up in surprise.

Things had just gotten much more interesting.

“Thank you,” Uilleam said, “for your cooperation.”

“Then you’re not going to kill me?” Tremaine asked, hope flaring in his eyes.

“I’m a man of my word,” Uilleam said. “I won’t kill you this evening.”

The man took in a rattling breath, his head hanging on his shoulders as he sighed in relief.

“But I can’t save you from Nix, I’m afraid.”

William Tremaine didn’t have a chance to even look up before Kit aimed and fired, sending a round plugging into the man’s head.

Not even two minutes later, Kit’s phone rang.

“I see you’re very good at following directions,” Elias said once the call connected.

“The address,” Kit demanded, not having the patience to go back and forth with the man.

“4649 Lexington and Frankforth,” came Elias’ reply, and Kit was seconds from hanging up when the man spoke again, “and 3251 Adame Street for your lovely assistant. I’d hurry if I were you, Nix. They don’t have much time.”

His phone beeped as the call ended.

Kit gave Fang the address for Aidra. “Go, and don’t hesitate to cut through anyone in your way.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

“I’ll take care of this,” Uilleam said, his phone back to his ear even as his gaze remained steady on Kit. “You go take care of that.”