Bonus Excerpt from
I kill people for a living. If they're lucky, I only have to rough them up. It's rare they're lucky.
I know I work for a tyrant. Anyone who has the misfortune of getting on George Lynch's bad side should know their days are numbered. I'm the gun in his holster, the one he draws to take care of 'problems.' The one he uses so he doesn't have to get his hands dirty.
Killing gives me a rush that nothing ever has. Knowing I can get away with it is almost as exciting. I take care of business, and George covers my tracks like I was never there. We're a team in the sense that he pays me to do a job. We watch out for each other, but we're not friends.
He saved me from a life of crime that would have landed me in jail. Now I commit even worse crimes that would earn me the death penalty if I ever got caught. George has me under his thumb. I guess we're both lucky that I never get tired of killing.
That's why I don't understand why he has assigned me this little project. Kidnap a girl and keep her locked away in one of his houses with all the creature comforts like some pampered pet. This is a job for one of his lackeys. Not me. Not his right-hand man.
“You ever hit a woman?” George asks me as we sit across from each other in his office. The cigar sticking out of his mouth has been smoked down to a nub. He offered me one earlier, but I politely declined. He smokes the good stuff, but I quit a few years back. The fact that he offered me one means this is an assignment that will require the utmost care.
“No.” I try not to let the smoke hanging in the air bother me. The addiction is always there. Never quite goes away.
“You're probably going to want to after this.” George snorts, snuffing out what's left of his cigar. I stare at the embers while they fade, thinking about all the lives I've claimed—seeing the light fade from peoples' eyes. It's like watching the soul leave the body. Hopefully, there's no heaven or hell, or else I'm fucked.
“Why me?” I ask the only question that matters to me right now. This isn't my type of gig. I damn sure wouldn't have volunteered for it.
“Because I trust you.”
It's far too simple of an answer. There are a lot of people in George's employment that he trusts. I'm no special snowflake.
“With all due respect, sir, I'd rather be assigned to something I'm good at.” Like sniping a businessman at 200 yards or putting a bullet in the head of a politician while he's busy banging some prostitute instead of his wife.
“You'll be good at this because I say you will be.” He gives me a look that suggests I shouldn't argue. “I need you to do it because you're intimidating. I need you to do it because you're not a rapist. We'll control this girl with fear. I do not want her harmed because we might need her in the future. And who better to strike fear into her heart than The Beast.”
I roll my eyes at the nickname, something I acquired from cage fighting back when George first took an interest in me. If intimidation is what he wants, then I can definitely provide it. I'm big in every sense of the word, towering over most men at just shy of seven feet tall. When I'm not busy busting skulls, I'm packing in calories and lifting heavy at the gym. Competitive bodybuilding is a hobby of mine when I have time. I typically have a lot of time between jobs, and thanks to George's generosity, I never have to worry about finding something else while I wait for the next gig. In hindsight, I should be thankful for whatever he throws my way because I know it will pay well. It will allow me to live like a king instead of scraping by at some regular nine to five.
“Who is she?” I ask, not that it matters. A job is a job.
“Her father is Shane Deridder. Does that name ring a bell?” He raises a bushy white eyebrow at me, waiting for recognition.
“No.” I shake my head.
Disappointment flashes across his face. “He's a scientist specializing in nanotechnology. He's created nanobots that can mend life-threatening wounds in a matter of seconds. I want the patent to the technology, but he refuses to sell despite my rather generous offer. Needless to say, I think a bit of persuasion is in order.”
I grunt in understanding. George has his hands in a lot of pots. He's built an empire—owns over half the pharmaceutical and medical equipment companies in the country, not to mention his other holdings. His wealth is vast. So is his corruption.
“So kidnap the princess, lock her in a tower, and wait for her father to cough up the patent. Seems pretty cut and dried.” I flick a speck of dust clinging to the armrest of the upholstered chair I'm sitting in.
“Well, not so much lock her in.” He grins. “She's our guest. I want her treated as such. That's not saying I want her to look back on her time with us fondly. I just don't want her to think of me as a heartless tyrant. Would you like to see the location?”
I nod, hoping he won't have me hunkered down in some bare bones log cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Whatever location he's picked, though, I have no choice. Discomfort is part of the job. I waited in a bell tower in record heat one year for nearly a week to take out one of my marks. There were times I thought I would die of a heat stroke before I was able to get a good shot at him.
George texts me the address to Shane Deridder's house and a picture of the girl. Then he sends his driver to wait for us outside so that he can take us to the location where the girl and I will be holed up while we wait for her father to surrender the patent. I look at the photo while we head to our destination, paying little attention to the meaningless banter that George makes to fill the time.
Pretty girl. Long wavy brown hair. Big doe eyes. She's staring straight forward at the camera, her hands folded in her lap. This was either taken in a studio as a portrait, or it was photo day at school.
“Hey, George.” I turn my phone's screen towards him. “Is she legal or is this a babysitting job?”
“Why? Are you interested?” He leans towards me teasingly.
I'm a hot-blooded male. I'm interested in anything half-pretty with a slit between its legs. I'm not interested in getting involved with a job, though, no matter how hot she is.
“She's legal.” He gazes down at the picture. “Barely, though. Don't get attached.” It's not a suggestion.
I snort. As if. A life of killing people has made me emotionally dead inside. I haven't had a meaningful relationship since before I met George. And I'm not about to risk my career as a hitman for a piece of ass.
After an hour's commute, we pull off of the highway and then take a few back roads before turning onto a dirt road that leads into the woods. Thank God, George has drawn me a map. Otherwise, I'd never be able to find this place again. We drive down to the edge of a lake that looks more like a moat circling a small island. George's house is clearly visible from the shore, towering three stories high above the trees, though they surround it, shrouding the front of the property. We take a boat across to the island, hiking through the dense forest about half the length of a football field before coming to a clearing. There's a double perimeter fence around the property. Two Dobermans come out to greet us, barking like crazy. George clicks a button on a remote and two automatic fences swing shut to lock the dogs in the double perimeter fence before the gates open to let us onto the property.
“Damn. You must really be worried about her escaping.” I rub the back of my neck as we walk past the dogs who look like they would tear us apart if given half the chance.
“It's a high-security place.” George slips the remote back into his pocket.
“I didn't know I'd be dog sitting, too.” I frown, not wanting anything extra to deal with.
“You won't. They have a kennelmaster.” He stops and turns to me, glancing back at the dogs. “You'll want to take extra care not to let them out. They only respond to their master.”
“Noted.” So they will tear my ass apart if they get out. Lovely.
We continue on to the house and George gives me the grand tour. This is definitely not a bare bones cabin. More like a palace out in the middle of nowhere. I'll definitely be comfortable here for however long I'll be staying.
“I don't expect this to take too long,” George tells me as we finish the tour and head back towards the boat. “I'm going to give him two weeks to hand over the patent.”
“And if he doesn't?” I already know the answer. It's the one that ends with the girl being unlucky.
“If he doesn't,” George stops and looks back towards the house, “well, you'll have a fun weekend then, won't you?” His smile suggests so many wicked things. I wouldn't be that evil, though. Like he said, I'm not a rapist. I'd give her a clean death. One she never saw coming.
“Alright then.” I take a deep breath. The air here is cleaner than that of the city. It should be soothing, but the sound of the dogs barking has me on edge. I certainly hope they shut the fuck up whenever we move in.
George hands over the keys to the house and the remote to the front gate. “Do enjoy your stay, but remember it's not a vacation.”
“So when do you want me to do this?”
“How about next Monday? That should give you enough time to scout Deridder's house.” He kicks at a rock with his expensive designer loafers. “This should be an easy job for you. Suspecting that someone might try to force him to give up the patent, Deridder just moved them out to the country. It took a bit of digging to find the location. Having said that, there aren't many places for the girl to go. It should be easy enough to snatch her.”
I nod. “Understood.”
“Well, that's it then.” George climbs into the boat, and I follow. “I'll leave the rest to you. How you do it is your business. Just don't be sloppy.”
“I never am.” I listen to the sound of the outboard motor revving up, thinking about how this will be a piece of cake. All I'll need is chloroform, a rag, and some time. Waiting is the most excruciating part, hiding in the forest like the beast I am.
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