I’m standing at the edge of the doorway when I see that little bitch round the desk, and that’s the trigger I’m looking for. “How about we skip the cuffs,” I say, drawing my weapon and entering the room. I don’t dither. I charge at him, grab his shirt and shove him in the corner against the glass window. “You killed them all, didn’t you?” I demand.
“Sure. I did it.” Davis laughs. “Of course, that confession is under duress.”
“How did you kill them?”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” he says. “But I think I will enjoy the lawsuit coming your way.”
“You don’t want to do that,” I say. “And I really don’t want to have this conversation. I just want you dead.”
“Jacob, what are you doing?” Jewel demands softly.
“What I promised you I’d do. Killing your slayer.”
“You won’t kill me,” he says. “There are fingerprints, ballistics, registered weapons and we both know yours is registered. There are cameras. And there’s me making her life hell because you went macho on me.”
“The cameras are off,” I say. “And here’s why everything else you said is shit I don’t give an extra shit about. I’m not just an ex-Green Beret. I was an assassin for the government. I did dirty work for a lot of important people. They don’t want my trouble to be their trouble. So, if I say: ‘clean it up and make it go away,’ they clean it up. That means I can kill you, make a phone call, and walk the fuck away.” I cock the weapon.
“Jacob!” Jewel calls out. “Do not kill him.”
“You heard the lady,” he taunts.
“She’ll thank me when you’re gone,” I promise him. “And damn man. I haven’t killed anyone in six fucking months. You know how that feels, right? How you want to kill, how you need to kill.”
“Jacob! Put your weapon down.” Jewel’s gun cocks.
“She won’t kill me,” I promise him. “The only reason you’re alive is that she’s a better person than me and she’s feeling guilty about wanting you dead.” I move him, shove him hard and flat against the glass, and point my gun at his head. “You decide. Her way or my way.” I look him in the eye and let him see how much I want to kill him. How willing I am to kill him.
“I did it. I killed them. Are you happy?”
“No,” I say. “I want proof. The kind that puts you away for life.”
His lips tremble, anger burning in his eyes. “National lockers, number 2899.”
“Call Adam, Jewel.”
“I’m calling.”
I back up and motion to the corner. “Stand in the corner, hands on the wall.”
“Adam,” Jewel says behind me. “Go to this address now. And wear gloves.”
Ass-twat glowers at me but walks toward the corner. I shove him into it and check him for weapons. “Cuffs,” I call out to Jewel, who is quickly there to hand them to me.
I cuff the little prick and then lean in close, for his ears only. “You come at any of us from prison, or anywhere else, I’ll make sure you die in your cell after you put some pretty smiles on some of the lonely guys in there with you. The idea of that is so enjoyable that it’s all that is keeping you alive right now.”
I shove away from him and I turn to face Jewel. She stares at me and there is judgment in her eyes that I don’t want to see. I look away and grab a chair, setting it behind Davis in the corner before shoving him to his knees. Once he’s there, I sit down behind him, and the little bitch sobs.
It’s a full twenty minutes before Jewel’s phone rings. “Adam?” she asks. “Yes. Okay. I’m sending a team.” She hangs up. “We have what we need,” she says, appearing beside me and then kneels next to jerk off. “You’re under arrest Davis York,” she states, going through the formality of reading him his rights before she stands back up, but she doesn’t look at me when she does. I feel that punch of anger in her, between us, but I leave it alone.
I stay focused on Davis who is still a danger until he’s dead as far as I’m concerned. I want to kill him. I should kill the bastard, but some part of me knows that’s what I can live with. Jewel cannot. A reality I will soon face, and I know it.
Ten minutes later, the place is swarming with officials and Davis is hauled away. When I stand up and look for Jewel, she’s not there. My gut knots with her absence, and I fight anger and other emotions I don’t want to feel. I exit the office and end up cornered for questioning. I don’t locate Jewel again until I’m finally on the street a good hour later. She’s standing with a uniformed police officer and the minute her eyes find me, the look on her face punches me in the heart. She breaks away from the officer and walks toward me.
“Is it true?” she asks, when we meet in the center of the sidewalk. “Were you, are you, an assassin?”
“Was,” I say, “as in past tense.”
“How many people did you kill?”
“As many as I was told to kill.”
Her blue eyes flicker, her ivory cheeks heating. She doesn’t like that answer. “Did you ask questions?”
“Does it matter?” I challenge.
“Did you kill Jesse Marks?”
“Yes. Now go ahead and ask me if I killed his family.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you that.” Her voice is a low, emotion laden rasp.
“But you wanted to,” I say. “I see that and a whole lot more in your eyes.”
“I’m just trying to understand.” Someone shouts her name and she leans closer to me. “What happens when he tells them you’re an assassin?”
“He’s not that stupid, but if he does, just call me a sniper. That’s what the government will claim as well.”
“But you were more.”
“Yes, and I should never have gotten close to you. I won’t come home tonight.” I turn and walk away. I leave her behind like I should have left her behind the day I met her. Because my past was always going to be the end for us.