Come To Me (Owned Book 3) (17 page)

“Well, are you going to do it or what?” I asked as I took a drink. “That will save me the time and trouble of doing it myself.”

Alice frowned and put the phone away. “You wouldn’t.”

This was it, the moment. The reason for everything. If I didn’t play it right, it would all be for nothing. I smiled, took another sip, and turned from Alice. With as much nonchalance as I could muster while stepping on the broken skeletons of my home, I walked away from her.

“Where are you going?” Alice rushed to follow me as I ascended the staircase. She probably assumed I was getting a grenade launcher or, you know, something to fight back with. My weapon was a bit subtler than that, though.

Drink still in hand, I called over my shoulder, “Getting a little rusty are we, Alice?” I reached the top floor. My previously secret door was ajar—pulled off the hinges by me earlier. I had to climb across the remains of my office to reach a practically composted desk. Bits of glass, wood, gutted pillows—anything I could smash or shoot at the time—littered the room.

I pulled the insurance policy out of the desk, brushing off either cotton or fiberglass. When I turned to head back to the kitchen, I was stopped by Alice’s gun. I blinked at the barrel.

“Fuck off, Vic.” She hurriedly waved her other hand. “Hand it over.”

“Should I fuck off first or…” I gave her the paper and then stepped away. After years of knowing Alice, one thing always remained true: she was bad with weapons. People always seemed to show up with bullets in knees or shoulders around her but, remarkably, couldn’t remember why.

“Two million dollars…” Gun pointed askew, she flipped through the insurance policy. “You took this out months ago.”

“Well if GEM didn’t kill her, and she didn’t kill herself…” I trailed off, letting the implication lie. I looked into my glass and feigned shock. “Time to get a refill.” Stepping around Alice, I made my way downstairs and back into the kitchen.

I stared into the cracked face of the oven, getting lost in its crooked smile. I’d been on many complicated missions, but none so complicated as this. It was almost fucking impossible, and that was because of love. There was no way for me to eradicate my emotions, so I had to learn to work with them.

Still, it wasn’t over. It was far from over.

Alice came up behind me and reached for the bourbon, pouring herself a glass.

“You have to know that chip doesn’t mean a thing to me. We all take them out. It’s what we do. I can’t count the number of chips I have. Can you?” Every agent, every person in wetwork, took out insurance policies on other people in the game. We called them chips because we traded them like their eponymous poker game counterparts. It was our twisted way of acknowledging our early deaths and laughing right at it. Also, we made pretty good cash.

Clearly we couldn’t use a regular life insurance company, so we used dark banks. The dark bank system was an entirely untraceable network operating under some of the biggest banking names in the world. Dark banks were comprised of the same types of things you’d get at regular banks: loans, life insurance, savings, etcetera, but if you defaulted on a loan, you paid in blood.

“I stopped counting after a hundred,” I replied.

“I will say I’ve been waiting for you to die for years so I can cash out and get my big payment,” Alice murmured. “Still, if you’re telling the truth why not throw her into the pot?” The pot was a free for all; something to do in-between jobs. You threw your chips in and the first person to take the kill won the chip. In return, you were out of a debt to the dark bank and possibly out of an enemy. Just hope you don’t see your name in the pot—or do, depending on your mood.

“Because this one is personal.” I stared at the oven. “And because fuck you.”

Alice gave me a look then continued, “I still don’t buy it. I have half a mind to just tell my guy to kill her right now.”

“I know this is hard for you to fathom because you’ve spent the better part of a decade pining after my dick, but I was with Lenny for one thing. When that thing got crazy, I took out the policy. Whatever you decide, I’m still cashing out.” I threw my glass back and drank the liquid in one gulp.

“Arrangements can be made, you know…” Alice placed her hand on my forearm. “It doesn’t have to be like this. You can come back to work and we can forget this ever happened.”

I laughed and shirked her from my arm. “You don’t have that kind of power, Alice.”

Gripping her glass until the skin went white, she replied, “A lot has happened since you left. I’m not just a handler any more.”

“Oh?” I quirked a brow, pretending I didn’t already know that. Throughout the entire conversation, I’d kept my head turned from Alice, only spying her in the periphery. Alice had tried to do the same, tried to convey the same impassivity, but she finally broke.

“You could secure your spot!” Alice turned to me, almost beseeching. “We just need a little show of faith.”

“I’d rather chew off my own dick.” Finishing the drink, I set the glass down with a slam. Alice flinched; it was light, but it was there.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Vic.” I’d let her think that. The same way I let Lenny hate me. In the end, it would all work out. “You’re a dead man now.”

“I was already in the gallows, Alice. You were just holding the noose around my neck.”

S
he was always a slow shot; it was one of the reasons GEM put her in handling instead of field work. She may have come from a military background, but her skill set was limited. Just as she pulled the trigger, I dodged, pulling out my own.

Alice shrieked, but my shot was off. The round whizzed past her head, barely grazing her scalp. I dropped to the ground, bullet lodged deep in my thigh. It was through and through—nothing I hadn’t handled before—but as I was about to make my next move, GEM agents swarmed into the apartment.

“Can’t take me man on man?” I said, laughing. Alice glared, kicking my gun far away from my hands.

Men and women dressed completely in black, M16s attached to their hands, piled into my apartment like they’d found Osama and not the cherry on top of a petty vendetta. Red dots circled the room as the eyes attached searched for any hiding marksmen. It’s what I would have done, what I was trained to do.

I thought of my red dot, the one sitting at the cafe, and hoped that my plan had worked. It was all I had now.

T
here really wasn’t much left for the GEM agents to tear apart, but they tried. No stone left unturned and all that shit. As I watched them kick over my already smashed TV and pull apart my already gutted couch, I was satisfied. Alice hadn’t taken that from me, at least. I’d destroyed my home before she could.

When it was clear there was no other threat than the bleeding man on the floor, they left. It wasn’t their job to babysit, after all. Now clean up had arrived. I’d only been witness to one clean up before. It hadn’t been my job to babysit, after all. Still, I’d stayed. I’d stayed for her.

She was on the floor, bloody and nearly dead, and that fucking asshole was there as well. That asshole was looking to destroy her. If I’d come a second later he would have raped her. Two seconds later, he would have killed her. I didn’t need to close my eyes to remember her screams; they were with me always. With each beat of my heart I heard the way she clawed for life with the back of her throat.

I told her she was safe with me, and I’d fucked that up royally.

I hadn’t needed GEM to take him out. I’d used a bit of their resources to handle Zoe’s hospitalization and was on my way to tracking down the fucker when my apartment alarm went off. I ran back up to the place, worried as fuck that he had somehow gotten inside.

But no, she’d left. I should have known then that she didn’t follow orders, or just basic common sense.

She’d left.

The rest was my fault. I should have realized by then how she affected me. If I’d taken a few moments to collect myself, I could have found her. I could have found him, and never involved GEM. At that time, though, there were no moments to collect. Inside I felt like a nuclear reactor breaking down. So I went nuclear and called everyone I knew. Alice was my handler at that point, but I had clearance higher than her.

I called it in. I called GEM. I called a code. We got there. We pulled the asshole off. And he was disposed of. I could have left, because men like me don’t wait around to babysit.

But I waited until they were done cleaning off the blood.

And I waited until she woke up.

Then I went nuclear, again.

I hissed as a little bit of gasoline landed on my open wound.

“How’s the bullet feel?” Alice asked.

I laughed. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Alice absentmindedly touched her forehead, the blood was already scabbing over. “You could have been great. Instead…this.” She looked around my quickly drowning apartment. The GEM cleanup crew drenched gasoline over my sink, on the counter, over the wood floors I’d painstakingly kept clean.

“You mean
you
could have been great.”

“I will be great,” she said, and dropped the match.

I
was napping next to the stove when black smoke woke me up. Mama said I was so good yesterday when the lady came that she was gonna do something special for me. She said she was gonna make popcorn, but first she had to eat her candy. She put the popcorn on the stove and I waited, ‘cause something that special didn’t happen often.

Now my eyes hurt.

And I can’t breathe.

I can’t see through the smoke and it hurts my throat.

“Mama!” I call but she doesn’t answer. I try to find her, but the blackness filling the house is so thick I can’t even see my hand. Loud ringing hurts my ears. I try to search in the kitchen but there is too much blackness.

It’s so hot I’m sweating and my skin is itchy. The smoke fades a bit as I reach the living room. I can see the chair where Mama usually sits. Her hand is hanging off the side. I tug on it, but she won’t budge.

“Mama we have to go!” She doesn’t respond. I tug harder and harder but she’s too heavy. More black fills the house. I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m going to fall asleep. “Mama!” Still nothing. I tug and I tug but she won’t respond.

I fall to the ground, feeling like I’m gonna throw up, still holding her hand. A burst of light hits me in my already sore eyes. Two big men shadow the doorway. Before I can think, one of the shadows runs into the room and grabs me. I try to hold on to Mama, but he pulls me away.

“Mama!” I yell, trying to grab at her. The man throws me over his shoulder, taking me through our doorway. I’m helpless as I watch smoke cover Mama like an unwanted blanket. The last thing I see of her is the black smoke engulfing her hand.

Lying among the smoke about to end, I couldn’t help but remember my beginning. As the smoke filled my lungs, the smell of popcorn wafted into my brain. I remembered trying to rouse Mama from her death. I remembered pulling on her limp, lifeless body as black smoke filled the house. I remembered thinking I was going to die at the ripe old age of four.