19
Non-negotiable contract.
Killian slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a heavy breath, frustrated by another wasted morning with no additional leads. He wasn’t a patient man by any means, and Petrov was grating on his last nerve.
He had spent all morning reaching out to his contacts, both local and in Chicago, hoping to discover some information regarding the purpose of Petrov’s men visiting Miami. But like everything related to the man, he kept his business interests close to his vest. And not mentioning Nick’s name in his inquiries made gathering intel even tougher, especially when his contacts had asked the reason for his interest.
This whole undercover bullshit was pissing him off. A simple, direct…what the hell do you want? …would have saved everyone a whole hell of a lot of time.
He reached for his ringing phone, glancing at the display—the number for Ramon Gutierrez. Killian lowered his brow as he hit the green button and remained silent, as he always did when answering his phone to avoid revealing himself before he could confirm who was on the other end of the line.
“Marks. I’m hungry.”
In line with their protocol, the first word was always his last name. Never a greeting and never the use of his first name to avoid “kill” getting flagged by some automated screening if Gutierrez’s calls were being monitored. And the second phrase dictated purpose…coded, of course. Hungry was code for…I have a new contract in my hand for you.
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Greek.”
“I’ll meet you there.” Killian disconnected the call and pulled out of the parking spot, heading toward the small Greek restaurant on Flagler Gutierrez owned. It was barely large enough to merit the restaurant distinction, but the food was actually tasty. More importantly, it was one of several private locations they often used to discuss business.
Killian had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. Gutierrez knew he had cut back on the number of jobs he accepted in the last few months. This call was anything but random. And while he somewhat trusted Gutierrez, he still cocked his gun and stashed a backup in his boot before walking into the restaurant.
There was a reason he had lasted this long in the business.
He worked his way to the back, casually nodding at the kitchen staff who doubled as Gutierrez’s guard. He knocked twice and waited, surveying the small hallway, cataloging every detail of his surroundings.
“Come in.”
He pushed inside and scanned the room, ignoring the stink in the air from the man’s cigar. All of Gutierrez’s offices were designed exactly the same. A requirement that facilitated the man’s ability to quickly spot even the slightest changes if someone invaded his private space. The cherry wood desk and wall furniture gave the entire room a dark vibe and was far too gaudy for Killian’s liking.
Whatever. To each his own.
Killian locked the door behind him once he confirmed they were alone. Gutierrez never had a third party in the room when they discussed a contract. That just opened the possibility of someone revealing information best kept quiet. And that was a risk neither of them dared take.
“Mr. Gutierrez.”
Gutierrez raised an eyebrow. “I will have you call me Ramon. One of these days.”
“Maybe.”
The man chuckled as he grabbed a file from his desk and extended it toward him. “I have a job for you.”
Killian looked at the file in Gutierrez’s hand.
“Take it. I know you want out, but this one is non-negotiable.”
“They’re all negotiable.”
“Not this one.”
He took the folder with a sigh but refused to open it.
“This is why Petrov’s in Miami,” Gutierrez said, pointing to the folder.
Killian opened the file and did everything in his power to disguise his reaction when familiar pale jade eyes stared back at him. The photograph: a snapshot of Nick’s hospital staff ID badge. Nick’s hair was shorter, more polished, and the smile on his face was subtle, nowhere near as wide as the smiles Killian had seen aimed at him.
“How do you know this is the reason he’s in town?” Killian asked, flipping to the next photograph of Nick in a tuxedo standing by a black luxury car outside a huge mansion.
“I met with him. And I asked him why the fuck he was here.”
Fighting to control every minuscule ounce of emotion in his body, Killian shifted his gaze from the folder to the man sitting comfortably in his leather chair. This was why he worked well with Gutierrez. No bullshit. He was just as blunt as Killian at times. But Killian refused to let his mind explore any more parallels between him and the man sitting on the opposite side of that desk. “When did you speak to him?”
“A few days ago. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer your phone.” Gutierrez leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his desk. “I don’t want that bastard in my backyard. I told him that. But he refuses to leave until he’s tied up a loose end.” He paused for a moment, taking another puff of his cigar as a sneer played on his lips, most likely recalling his private meeting.
Gutierrez always appeared calm and polished, but it took a special strength to keep that much instability in check. Petrov was undoubtedly challenging his mental balance, and Killian couldn’t stand the thought of Nick becoming a chess piece between these two men.
“He said if I helped him tie up that loose end, he would leave. Of course, I told him I had the best bloodhound available in the business.” The wicked grin that spread across Gutierrez’s face as he pointed that nasty chewed-on cigar at him chilled Killian’s blood. “That’s where you come in. So find me that man.”
“I’m not a bounty hunter,” he hedged.
“You’re not. But Petrov wants to take care of this one himself. He says this man is elusive. And he’s offered two-fifty for the find.”
Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Killian’s usual fee for completion of a contract. “That’s generous for just a find.”
“Agree. But he wants that man and I don’t care why. All I want is for that pruny old bastard to leave Miami and crawl back into his cave. I don’t want a cut of the fee. You can have it all. Just find that man and bring him to me so that I can deliver him and escort Petrov’s ancient ass directly to the airport and tell him to fuck off.”
Killian closed the folder, keeping his hands as steady as possible.
“He expects updates. So as soon as you have any information, let me know. And he’ll add a bonus if you expedite this. The asshole doesn’t appreciate our humid weather down here.”
Killian curtly nodded and turned.
“Are you staying for lunch?” Gutierrez asked.
He had lost his appetite the moment he opened that file. “I’m on a timetable. So I need to get started.”
Gutierrez nodded. “I’ve already arranged to have the deposit sent to your account. You should have it by the end of day.”
Killian excused himself and left Gutierrez’s office. He quickly slid into the driver’s seat of his car and locked the door. He pulled out of the parking lot and absently drove to a nearby parking garage, maneuvering his car around the spiral to the highest, vacant level. He parked in a spot and turned off the engine, wrapping both hands around the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip.
He looked over at the folder sitting on the passenger seat, a stark reminder of the reality he tried to deny. His stomach twisted, churning with an unfamiliar cocktail of emotions bubbling inside, seeping into his blood and coursing through his veins. His ragged breath sawed in and out of his lungs until a roar erupted from his throat, filling the closed cockpit of his car.
Over and over until his voice cracked.
A million different thoughts and scenarios invaded his mind of how this would all play out. What would happen to Nick? If Killian ignored the contract or didn’t respond fast enough, would Petrov send someone else? Would he coordinate with other organizational heads, combining efforts to seek out Nick?
Killian’s body shook. He turned in his seat and punched the leather, the padded door, the steering wheel, and the roof, delivering blow after blow as another yell tore through him.
This wasn’t fair.
Life wasn’t fair.
Nick deserved more… He deserved a chance.
A thought tickled the back of his mind. Just like his targets, Killian would beg and plead for a chance, knowing he’d do anything to extend his time with Nick. His muscles burned with each new punch and his throat became raw with another ripping, desperate yell.
His body heaved with each gasp of breath as he finally sat still in his seat. He gripped the steering wheel, needing something to ground him against these fireworks of emotions exploding inside. He needed control—of his emotions and the situation. He could pinpoint the anger and fury, but the other…
Is this fear?
A chill trickled into his body, cooling the odd blend of emotions. He could deal with fear. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he hadn’t felt in decades, but recognizing it for what it was allowed him to compartmentalize and move forward.
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the headrest and took a few deep breaths, willing his body to calm itself. He twisted his grip around the steering wheel in a revving motion as his mind raced with a new stream of thoughts. Weeks of searching for Nick had left Petrov empty-handed. Killian figured he had at least a week, possibly two until Petrov demanded results.
Petrov was getting desperate. And desperation never ended well.
═ ☼ ═
Hours later, Killian numbly walked through the garage door leading into the house. He needed to see Nick, to feel his heat, hear his voice. Nothing else would settle the aftershocks rippling through his body.
“Hey!” Nick said. “I’m in the kitchen.”
He scowled at the twists and turns of life. Just when he finally found someone who could put up with his sorry ass, life comes knocking on his door to call in his mountain-sized debt.
“Come in here. I want you to taste this.”
He lumbered over, another wave of emotions slamming into him at the sight of Nick standing in their kitchen cooking dinner. Their kitchen. The thought slapped him back to the here and now.
Nick leaned in for a quick kiss then held up a wooden spoonful of sauce. “Try this.” He cupped a hand under Killian’s chin as Killian sealed his mouth around the spoon.
“Good?”
Killian nodded. “But you taste better.”
“Sweet talker.” Nick set the spoon aside and switched off the burners. He turned back to Killian and slid his arms around his waist, tipping his chin up to meet his gaze. “I’m guessing you found something out.”
He set the folder on the kitchen counter and reflexively wrapped his arms around Nick. He closed his eyes and exhaled, surrendering to the comfort of the warmth filtering into his body. “Why would you guess that?” He pushed his nose into Nick’s hair, breathing him in.
“You’re tense.”
“I’m always tense.”
Nick chuckled. “And you’re worried. That’s the difference in your mood.”
Killian pulled back from the embrace, surveying Nick’s features. He inhaled a deep breath when Nick’s warm palms pressed against his cheeks, centering him.
“Don’t look so shocked. Just say it. We know what we’re up against. It’s just a matter of time.”
We. That was the bottom line. United, they would do this. They would pull through this nightmare. Together. Petrov wasn’t counting on that. Even he hadn’t counted on that.
His gaze slid to the folder on the counter, prompting Nick to release him and focus on the file. Nick scanned the pages, pulling out the photographs and holding them up.
“You look good in that tux,” Killian whispered, standing behind him, snaking his arms around Nick’s waist and splaying his hands possessively against his stomach.
“That’s the weekend I helped manage the catering for the restaurant. I had this weird feeling I was being watched. I couldn’t shake it.” He set the photograph back in the folder. “I guess someone at the wedding remembered me. I used my boss’s car that weekend, and that’s why they were probably looking for me that day at the restaurant, but used Mr. DeMatto’s name instead.”
Killian pressed a kiss to the side of Nick’s neck, letting his lips linger against his skin.
“Did they hire you to kill me?”
His throat tightened. Nick obviously didn’t sugarcoat things. “No. To find you.”
Nick bobbed his head as if processing the answer and deciding which question in his mental list to ask next. He closed the file and turned in the embrace, resting his head on Killian’s shoulder. “How much time do we have?”
Killian closed his eyes and buried his face in Nick’s hair. He hated this feeling…this pain wrapping around his heart.
“I’m not giving up,” Nick said with a sigh. “I just want to know if you were given a timeframe.”
Killian tightened his arms around Nick, refusing to answer the question hovering thickly in the air.
Nick pulled out of the embrace and returned to the stove. “Let’s have dinner. Try to get this out of our minds tonight. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” He opened the oven and grabbed the mitts before pulling out a pan and setting it on the trivets. He glanced up, meeting Killian’s worried eyes with his own. “Not tonight. Okay?”
He wouldn’t deny Nick’s request or the plea screaming from his expression. Not tonight. Once again, he was in awe of Nick’s strength and control.
“Okay.”
Killian had already reached out to his contacts that afternoon to check on timetables for false paperwork and identifications. For the both of them. He’d run with Nick if that was what he wanted. With the knowledge and resources between them, they could survive. They’d change their appearances—dye and grow out their hair, work on tweaking their mannerisms, accents, anything that would work to extend their time together.
Nick smiled, a sudden peace filling the space between them. “Good. Let’s eat.”
Killian set the table, shaking his head as a barely there smile tugged his lips, always amazed by Nick’s resilience.
“And after dinner, we’re having dessert in the bedroom.”
“What’s on the menu?” He glanced up when Nick didn’t respond.
Nick stared at him, biting his lower lip. “You…wearing nothing but that talisman.”
And just like that, the million thoughts circling in Killian’s mind completely vanished.
═ ☼ ═
The crickets were especially loud, singing their melody in the dark night, the sound mixing with the occasional snap of the palm fronds slapping against each other. Nick tilted his head up to the night’s sky, smiling at the stars twinkling back at him. He took a deep breath, inhaling the telltale scent of rain in the air. He sighed when strong arms pulled him back against a hard chest, more snugly into the warmth of the embrace and the bedsheet wrapped around them.
“Can we stay out here a little longer?” Nick asked.
He closed his eyes when Ian’s lips pressed against his neck. “However long you want. I don’t mind rain, but if there’s lightning, we need to get inside. I’ve got another blanket if the wind keeps picking up.”
Nick’s smile widened. Ian was like a grandmaster, always thinking several steps ahead of his opponent. His smile faltered, knowing Ian couldn’t have planned for him or for this war with Petrov. But Ian took it all in stride. At least, that was what he probably hoped his facade showed.
Deep down, Nick sensed Ian’s growing frustration. Their lovemaking had been desperate and possessive, neither one able to get close enough to the other.
“We can’t go back to the island as long as Petrov and his men are looking for me, can we?” Nick glanced over his shoulder, meeting Ian’s laser stare. “Is that why you took me there? So I could have a few days of peace and you could say your goodbyes without actually telling anyone you were never going back.”
Ian’s jaw muscles twitched. The island was not an option as long as that contract was valid. Anyone hired by Petrov would search all airports, bus terminals, and train stations. Then search for private planes and flight plans. They’d eventually find Nick. And that would put everyone on the island at risk.
“I thought we were waiting until tomorrow to talk about this?”
Nick hooked his hands on Ian’s strong forearms wrapped around him. “It’s after midnight. It’s technically tomorrow.”
“Smartass.”
He chuckled, turning in the embrace to rest his head against Ian’s shoulder. “So I have to run again.”
“No. We will.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I do.” Ian pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I already told you, you’re going to have to pry me away from you. Besides, I’ve already set the plans in motion. My guy needs a few days to do the IDs. He’s picky but he’s the best. Don’t argue with me on this.”
Nick snuggled closer. He refused to protest. He had secretly hoped Ian would stay with him, but that was a big request that came with far too many sacrifices and compromises.
“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to visit? Somewhere you’d like to go?”
He pulled back from the embrace, surprised by Ian’s question. “I don’t think we can leave the country unnoticed.”
“That wasn’t my question.” Ian kissed the tip of his nose.
Nick chuckled. “I always loved the idea of traveling, but I can’t.” He pulled the sheet tighter around his shoulders, feeling the sudden chill in the air before the projected rainfall. “I was saving up money to take a month off work to travel. But then Petrov came along and everything changed. I know they would have found me the moment my passport was scanned.”
“So you’ve always wanted to see the world?”
“Not exactly.”
The warmth of Ian’s chuckle puffed against his ear. “You’re a complicated man. You were going to take a month off to travel, but you don’t want to see the world?”
“You’re going to laugh.”
Ian pressed a kiss to Nick’s cheek. “I won’t.”
“I wanted to eat.”
“What?”
The heat crept up Nick’s neck to his face. “I like food. I wanted to go to different parts of the world and experience their food…not the processed, commercialized version of it. But the authentic flavors and spices. I think that’s why I naturally gravitated toward working at the restaurant when I had to run.” He looked up at Ian. He hadn’t ever told anyone that. “It’s silly. Isn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Ian whispered, pulling him close against his body.
They held each other in the darkness, enjoying the rustling of the palm fronds in the night as the crickets sang and the faint sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Did you bring lube out here?” Nick teased, looking up at the now rolling clouds in the night sky.
Ian’s large hand appeared in front of his face, holding a tube in his fist.
Nick chuckled and turned, grinning at his always prepared dark angel. He leaned in for a kiss, moaning when Ian’s hand gripped the back of his head, guiding their bodies onto the blanket beneath them as the rain began to fall. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck, surrendering his body to the man who already owned his heart.