The trap was set. The prey had been lured. Now all he had to do was wait for the bait to lead them inside. He had looked forward to this day. Had put off the killing for too long. Life became busy, and there were more than a few irritants in his world. These two together had been just one more. He had tolerated them, but then they’d crossed a line, one he couldn’t ignore. The time had come to end them.

They would be surprised, no doubt. He had chosen the bait well.

A slight sound outside alerted him that the finale was nigh. Moving the curtain only slightly, he watched the man and woman step up onto the small porch. The man wore tan pants, a light blue shirt, leather jacket; the woman was dressed in black slacks and a loose-fitting gray sweater. His eyes stuttered and stopped on the woman’s face. She didn’t photograph well, but in person she was really quite lovely. Thick, light brown hair just touched her shoulders. She had a stubbornness to her chin and an interesting little scar on her left cheek. He found the flaw quite intriguing. He would have liked to ask her how it came to be. Considering their lifestyle and career choice, he was sure the story would be quite entertaining.

Alas, he would never have the opportunity to ask.

The man beside her had the solid, lithe build of someone who could handle himself well. His dark blue eyes held a cold, ruthless quality, but when he looked down at the woman beside him, his entire expression changed, gentled. Interesting.

Andrew and Natalie Bishop had been a pain in his ass for several years. Still, he had steered clear of them...even admired them on some level. Their “white hat” mentality was wearisome but nevertheless harmless. Until it had ventured too far into his territory. His bank account had suffered somewhat, but the biggest sting was the damage to his reputation.

Had they known he would retaliate? Had they been on watch, waiting for him to strike? He imagined they had. They had been in the game a long time. They knew the risks. Knew what happened when one crossed paths with the wrong person.

They wouldn’t expect this, though. Months had passed, and they likely had put his retaliation to the back of their minds. That’s what made this one almost enjoyable. The surprise factor helped make this fun. Killing wasn’t something he usually did for pleasure. There were much more pleasant ways to enjoy one’s self. Killing was his business—a profitable one. These people had not only cut into his profit, they had embarrassed him. A double insult that he could not let slide.

He told himself those were the only reasons they had to die, but there was an inkling inside him that said it was more than that. A resentment, perhaps? An acknowledgment that they had made an impression in a way he never could?

No, he refused to even consider the notion. This was purely a business matter. Nothing more. She had done the job to his specifications, just like he’d taught her. To consider there had been a change in her because of them was intolerable. She was a good actress, and that was that.

The doorbell rang. He had thought about getting one of his female contractors to pose as his wife and play things out a bit. Rarely did he get a chance to playact anymore. But he had places to go and people to manipulate and destroy. Prolonging the inevitable would be a silly indulgence.

When the bell rang again, he went to the foyer and pressed the play button on the small recorder in his hand. “Come on in,” a sweet female voice called out. “I’m just getting a pie out of the oven.”

The house was small and cozy enough to make it seem as if the woman called out from the kitchen.

He stood at the entrance of the living room, scant feet away from the door, his gun pointed at the door. The moment they stepped inside, he would pop them, and that would be that.

The front door opened, slower than he’d anticipated. Stiffening, he cocked his head to hear any words being said. There was only silence.

Two things occurred that he should have anticipated.

From the back of the house, a young voice screamed, “No! Wait! Stop!”

The man and woman entered, their guns drawn. Had they anticipated the trap? Or were they just as wary as he always was? Even as he cursed his lack of foresight, he coldly and remorselessly planned his way out.

On high alert, he stepped sideways just in time to avoid the first shot. If he hadn’t moved, the bullet would have blown his head off.

He glared at the girl standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Light gray eyes, wide with horror, stared at him with a helplessness he usually enjoyed. Not this time, dammit. She would pay for her weakness and insubordination.

He should have seen this coming. Should have known she wouldn’t be able to handle this. She had all the right qualities to be a female version of him. But she had one major flaw, one that might well be fatal. He might have a fondness for her, but that wouldn’t stop him from teaching her a lesson she would never forget.

That would have to come later. For right now, he had the more urgent matter of staying alive. He turned his attention back to the couple now hunkered down behind a sofa in the sitting room.

“It’s no use trying to escape, Bishop,” he yelled. “You should’ve stayed out of my business.”

No answer. How typically rude.

Glancing back at the girl, he waved her over. “Come here. Now.”

The girl stood frozen in the doorway, her panicked eyes telling him shock would be setting in soon. He needed to act now.

“You know what’s going to happen if you continue to disobey me, don’t you?”

The words registered. He saw the panic turn to something else—obedience. She took a step forward.

“Leave the girl alone,” Andrew Bishop shouted. “This is between us and you. She’s not part of this.”

“Oh, I beg to differ. She’s the most integral part.”

He was safe, hidden behind the thick wall. He couldn’t see the man or the woman, but he knew where they were. He would keep a wary eye open for his opponents, but he focused most of his attention on the girl. She was his key to staying alive and his ticket out of here.

“Get over here. Now!” he whispered harshly.

She took another step forward. Shots exploded toward him. Pieces of plaster and shattered wood stung his face. Dammit, she would pay for that, too.

“Come here or else.”

“No! You don’t have to do this,” Natalie Bishop screamed. “We can—”

He fired a shot toward the woman to shut her up. The girl might change her mind. She was a weak, malleable puppet, but dammit, she was his. He had created her and would use her for as long as he wanted.

“I said, come here!” he barked.

The quick shake of her head told him he was going to have to take a more direct approach. He blew out a breath. He hated to make concessions, even fake ones. He had no choice. He was as good a killer as there had ever been, but these two were almost as good. Two against one was not a fair fight.

He began to talk to her, whispering promises he would never keep. His voice was one of his most powerful attributes. Even when she wouldn’t respond to anything else, his voice had a mesmerizing quality that never failed. He spoke low enough so only she could hear. His words were incessant as he repeated key phrases that would elicit a certain response. Each one penetrated her weak defenses.

She believed him. He could literally see her changing her mind as he continued his litany of persuasion. She took a step toward him, then another. Her movements were stiff and automatic, as if she were in a trance.

“No!”

The woman’s shout was too late. The instant the girl was close, he grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked her toward him. Wrapping his forearm around her neck, he put his mouth close to her ear. “Stay still, you little idiot, or I’ll snap your neck like a twig.”

The girl was stiff in his arms, but defiance vibrated through her body. Fury exploded. She would pay for her betrayal.

He and the girl were almost the same height, making her the perfect shield. He stepped out from behind the wall.

“Let the girl go,” Bishop said in a quiet, moderate tone. “We’ll all back away and forget this happened.”

He almost laughed at the lie. Letting the girl go was not an option. He’d be dead the instant she was out of harm’s way.

“That’s not the way this game is played,” he snarled. “Put your weapons down and the girl lives. That’s your only option.”

“The girl means nothing to you,” the woman snapped. “We’ll leave you alone. Just give us the girl.”

“You’re not hearing me. She is mine. Mine to do with as I please. However, I’ll spare her life. All you have to do is drop your weapons.”

“He won’t kill me,” the girl cried out. “Please. Just go! Get out of the house and—”

“Shut up,” he snarled. Tightening his arm around her neck, he let her feel the impending threat. She knew he would kill her. She’d seen him do it to others.

She shifted slightly in his arms, relaxing a bit. Good, he was finally getting through to her. Now he just had to—

Agony exploded. He glanced down to see a knife sticking out of his upper thigh. The little bitch had stabbed him!

Ignoring the searing pain wasn’t easy, but the anger helped. Game-playing was over. She would pay for her defiance, for the pain and aggravation she had caused. He wrapped an arm around her arms and then tightened the hold he had on her neck, cutting off her blood supply and ability to breathe.

She struggled vainly in his arms, fighting the inevitable.

“Stop it!” the woman screamed. “You’re killing her.”

“Put. Your. Guns. Down,” he ground between clinched teeth.

“You kill her and you’re a dead man,” Bishop snapped.

“She’ll be dead in less than a minute. Drop your guns.”

The man and woman looked at each other. They knew there was little choice. Either the girl died, or they did.

As if they could read each other with their eyes, they lowered their weapons at the same time.

The girl was unconscious, but she would remain his human shield until this was over. She wouldn’t die, but she’d suffer greatly for what she had almost cost him.

An ear-piercing blast exploded, as a bright, eye-searing light flashed. Temporarily blinded and disoriented, he held on to the girl and started firing as he limped to the door. The stun grenade had been a dirty trick. It wouldn’t kill him but would definitely slow him down. They wouldn’t shoot for fear of hitting the girl, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try to trap him.

The instant he felt cool air touch his back, he knew he was safe. Ignoring the pain in his thigh, he flung the girl over his left shoulder and ran down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Twenty feet away, he dared a glance back. They were still in the house. He could see them through the window. With a smile of triumph, he pressed a switch in his pocket and then took off running as hard as he could.

The explosion rocked the ground beneath his feet, but he didn’t lose his balance. A block down the street, he slowed down and took in a deep breath. The house was engulfed in flames. They were dead. The job was done. They would never bother him again. It hadn’t gone down as he had planned, but he consoled himself that the Bishops were out of his life, and that had been his intent.

The girl on his shoulder groaned softly. Good. She was waking up. When she was completely awake and aware of everything, he would make damn sure she understood the consequences of her disobedience. She would pay dearly for her betrayal.