Hitman's Secret Baby: A Bad Boy Romance (14 page)

As I watched Anna fill up her own glass, I knew she was hoping for the same thing.

Chapter Fourteen
Mason

I drove for hours to the meeting place.

It was set for ten PM, under the cover of darkness. Six trucks would arrive filled with the drugs, Monroe and his best guys would be there to test and collect, the payment would exchange hands, and then they’d all be on their way.

Or so they thought.

The sun was just starting to go down, giving me plenty of time to set up what I needed to before anyone else got here.

I parked my rental—paid for with cash—a mile from the old factory loading building, and then I hiked the rest of the way, keeping off the road and under the thick shroud of trees.

I made it there with hours to spare, sweating from the warm night and shrugging my duffle bag off my shoulder.

Ian had gotten me the plans for the building. It was a fairly large space, an annex of the factory itself with enough room for a dozen trucks and plenty of men to load them. There were wide metal doors spanning the whole front of the building’s east side, and two other small doors: one leading outside, and one leading into the factory itself.

Monroe’s guys wouldn’t be using the conveyer area that brought goods back into the factory once upon a time, but I decided to secure it anyway, in case anyone tried to exit that way.

Windows covered the whole north-facing side of the building, most of them smashed and the night breeze flowing freely through them, and next to the building was a hill with a rocky outcrop at the front where I’d be able to watch, clearly, as everything went down.

I’d picked the location myself, with Ian’s help. It hadn’t taken much to convince Monroe’s people this was a good place to make a deal, considering how hidden and out of use it was.

It was a perfect spot for an ambush.

Out of my duffle, I pulled the first square of C4.

This shit wasn’t cheap, but I hadn’t scrimped on the amount. Luckily the old loading dock still had barrels of oil lying around, which would help the place go up in flames quite nicely.

I tucked several pieces around each way in or out, covering them with random scrap metal and garbage that was still lying around from the factory’s old days. Then, I strapped a couple pieces to each of the huge loading doors, pushing them into the overlapping metal slats to hide them.

There was no working electricity here these days, and so whatever lighting the guys at the meeting had would come from the truck headlights. There’s no way they’d be able to see any of the C4 I’d placed.

The problem was how to hide it around the floor space.

I surveyed the area, trying to work out where Monroe would place himself. I didn’t want to hurt the delivery guys, either; only Monroe’s guys would die here tonight.

A rustle and crash outside startled me and I pulled out my silenced handgun.

I slipped quietly across the building, straining to hear the low shuffling sound. It wasn’t just the wind, that was for damn sure.

I steeled myself, moving low along the wall to the outside door I’d left half open. I reached over, touching it with my fingers to let it swing outwards, and then I threw myself into the doorway, gun poised.

A clumsy possum snuffling around the piles of junk outside looked me dead in the eye like I was an idiot.

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head.

“Get a grip,” I told myself. I’d only been out the game a few weeks but I was already ready to gun down passing animals.

Everything in me knew I was making the right decision, going back to Taryn after this.

How quickly I’d become a stranger to this world, whilst becoming so comfortable with Taryn’s. A month ago I would never have foreseen it. I would’ve scoffed in the face of anyone who dared suggest it, even.

I’d never been so eager to get a job wrapped up.

I tucked my weapon away and went back inside, contemplating several grates in the concrete floor. I pulled a screwdriver from my duffle and got to work.

Once the grates were loosened, I planted the C4 underneath and replaced them back on top, screwing them into place. Then I dragged a few oil barrels on top of them, for added direct damage.

It looked like enough to blow this whole damn place to kingdom come. Any security that came in to check out the building wouldn’t see how I’d rigged it.

I left, shutting the door and making my way up the hill overlooking the factory.

It was almost fully dark now, closing in on the meeting hour, and I made myself comfortable at the edge of the outcrop.

Out of my duffle, I pulled my rifle, sniper stand, and binoculars.

What would I do with these things once I’d finished here? Would I simply wipe them down and toss them? They were so much a part of me, the tools of my trade, the equipment that had saved my life and paid my way and given me purpose.

After this they would be useless, but their meaning would still exist to me.

I hoped they would be useless, anyway.

I still had some time. I pulled out my phone and, in a wild and reckless moment of abandon, I messaged Taryn.

Can’t wait to come home to you x

It wasn’t long before she replied.

Can’t come soon enough x

It was so damn easy to say it, to believe it. I wanted to slap myself for ever doubting this. I’d been stubborn and blinded by my regrets, thinking I was undeserving of a second chance. Taryn had showed me that wasn’t the case and I would spend the rest of my life making sure she didn’t regret it.

I checked the view in my binoculars. From my position on high ground, I saw the distant shapes of trucks on the road a good mile away. At that same moment, Taryn messaged me again.

It’s time for you to meet your daughter x

My heart ached. Here I was, poised with a sniper rifle and a trigger for over a dozen pieces of C4 and I was grinning like a love-struck idiot.

My daughter. My little girl. Soon, I’d be able to truly call her as much.

My nerves had calmed to the point of focus and serenity now. I’d always assumed emotions got in the way of this job, but I’d been wrong. Taryn’s promise had helped me to concentrate. I could see, with intense clarity, what was important.

I quickly tucked my phone away and watched the trucks arrive at the location.

There were six of them, and two large Jeeps; these were Monroe’s people, probably come to survey the area before the drop.

A man I didn’t recognize got out of one of the Jeeps and hauled the huge loading doors open, and then another guy, armed with an assault rifle, climbed out too. They went inside and, through the broken windows, I watched them check the place over.

Every time one of them went near the C4 I’d planted, I held my breath, but they didn’t discover it, or anything else to be concerned about.

Eventually, Monroe’s trucks were herded inside.

The Jeeps stayed outside but the men didn’t, and I watched Monroe climb out of the back of one of them.

He was dressed in a dark suit, his thick white hair combed back. He always did make a striking figure, tall and broad and a face belying his impeccable fashion sense—grizzled and scarred, thick eyebrows giving him a perpetual scowl.

I watched him, a man I knew to be his eldest brother, and some others I vaguely recognized from past jobs, enter the building, now lit by the trucks’ headlights. They had security, too; goons dressed in the attire of a
merc
company I knew of that took the most damaged psychopaths and taught them how to murder en masse.

All of them had the air of men who’d shoot you in the kneecap as soon as shake your hand, and I shivered where I crouched, sending up a desperate prayer to a universe that hadn’t really ever favored me.

If I was ever gonna get lucky, now would be the perfect time.

All in all, there were easily two dozen men in that place. Two dozen of Monroe’s most trusted. Once they were cleared out of the organization, Monroe’s younger brother would gleefully take over with his own inner circle.

The world would be better off.

I watched them for an hour until more trucks entered the dark horizon. Monroe smoked Cohibas while the others talked sparsely. At one point, he made a phone call, and I had a stab of anxiety. To who?

Possibly his wife. She’d be better off without him, too. I knew that for a fact.

Eventually, the Thornes’ trucks pulled up outside the loading bay. My plan was to wait until the handover went down and the delivery trucks had long gone, and then blow the joint before Monroe and his people could leave.

The usual hand-shaking, idle business bragging, and posturing went down. Until Monroe grabbed a guy by the scruff of his neck, a weedy, pale looking fella who I hadn’t even given a second look to before, and threw him to his knees on the ground.

I knew him. I fucking
knew
the guy. A druggie from New York, a down-on-his-luck bum who’d do anything for a fix. Everyone in this business knew Kieran McKellen.

He was a nice guy, never caused any trouble, always pleasant to everyone he met, and this whole damn place was rigged to blow with him most likely in it.

I just couldn’t do that.

Panic struck me. I had moments to figure out what the fuck to do.

Monroe held Kieran down as one of the Thornes’ guys cooked up a hit of heroin. When Kieran struggled to get comfortable, Monroe slapped him full to the ground, gripping his hair to haul him back upright again.

That fucking asshole.

I should’ve planned for this; of course someone had to sample the drugs before the trade could go down. Of course that person wouldn’t deserve to die amongst the monsters that supplied their desperate habit.

There was no way I could kill Kieran and go back to my family with a clean conscience.

I started to move. I had to get close enough to signal Kieran to get out of there, and I had to do it quickly.

Luckily everyone’s focus was turned inwards, and I managed to keep low and get up to the edge of one of the broken windows without being spotted.

Monroe’s voice was louder now, spitting curses at a still-squirming Kieran, calling him worthless and a bunch of other derogatory names.

A man came forward with a needle and stuck it in Kieran’s arm.

The drugs were good, obviously, but it meant Kieran went slack and happy and I didn’t have a clue how I was going to get him out of there.

Luckily, Monroe tossed him aside, and Kieran was free to make his way to the bench that ran underneath the window. He staggered towards it, sitting down, and I made sure nobody was watching in this direction before I leaned over.

“Kieran,” I whispered roughly, as the papers were signed and the goons started to move the drugs from the truck to the loading bay floor.

He startled, whipping his head around. Goddammit, the guy was high as a kite, his pupils so huge I couldn’t even tell the color of his eyes. I put a hand on his back and nudged him to look forwards again.

“M—Mason?”

I shushed him. “Don’t expose me, man, or we’re both in deep shit.”

That seemed to hit home, and he nodded jerkily. “You really here?”

I dug my fingers into his back, staying ducked down as low as I could. The broken window edges were starting to dig through my leather jacket and soon they’d be cutting into my skin.

“I’m here, buddy. I need you to listen to me and do exactly what I say, okay?”

“Okay,” Kieran said, sounding shaky and overwhelmed. I could feel the tremble of his body under my hand. So much for a good trip.

“Make an excuse that you need air, and get the hell away from here in the opposite direction to the road as fast as you can,” I told him.

“H—how?”

“You need air, Kieran!”

He nodded again, breathing so hard it sounded like he was having a panic attack. He stood, swayed on his feet, and spoke up in a mousy voice. “Mr. Monroe?”

“What the fuck do you want?” Monroe snapped, chewing on another Cohiba.

“I could use some air, Mr. Monroe.”

Monroe scowled. “The drugs bad?”

Thrones’ guys got shifty, looking at each other in panic, but Kieran said, “No! No, they’re great, but I’m hot. It’s hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot?”

He’d keep on rambling if they let him, but thankfully Monroe waved him away. “Whatever.”

I sighed, slumping back. I still had to get back up the hill, but at least—

“Boss, there’s someone outside.”

I froze.

“No! No one outside!” Kieran stressed, making it sound like there was
definitely
someone outside.

Goddammit. I was risking my life for this guy. What was I
thinking
?

No, it was the right thing to do. That mattered to me now.

I flung myself out of the view of the windows, crawling past the door and to the corner of the building where the bushes were thicker. I didn’t know if the goon had seen me, or heard me, or just spotted a shadow or a vague shape.