Nothing To Lose: A Grey Justice Novel (40 page)

Their meetings always included a meal—one that Irelyn cooked. The man didn’t trust restaurant food prepared by strangers…for good reason. There must have been countless people who would have loved to kill the bastard.

In previous encounters, Grey would listen intently during their dinner conversation, hoping to pick up clues or nuances of upcoming events the man might care to discuss. He was always very careful in his language, but if one listened closely, there was usually a gem or two that could be used. This time Grey’s inability to hear was of no real consequence…after all, this meeting wasn’t meant to elicit information. This would be the last conversation the man ever had with anyone.

Their easy camaraderie was something Grey had never been able to understand or comprehend. Intellectually he could, but deep within him, knowing what this creature had done, it was hard to swallow. Irelyn saw something in the man that Grey couldn’t. She saw safety and affection. Grey saw a cold-blooded killer.

Irelyn laughed, and Grey caught his breath. Even though he couldn’t hear the sound, he was mesmerized by the animation on her beautiful face. Joy filled her eyes—something she never had with him. He’d heard her laugh from time to time, but that had been when they were out in public and, as always, she had been acting a role. Laughter when they were alone was non-existent—not that he’d ever given her a reason.

At last the dinner ended. As was their custom, the man seated himself on the sofa while Irelyn went to the bar across the room and poured cognac into two snifters. Though he couldn’t see the deed, Grey knew she had added an additional ingredient to one of the drinks.

She carried the glasses to the sofa, handed one to her companion and then sat across from him. Grey kept his eyes on the glass in the man’s hand, watched as he swirled the liquid around, staring down into its depths. Hell, what was taking him so long? Why wasn’t he drinking? Did he detect something off? Being in the death business for most of his life, the man had to have good instincts.

 
Grey put his hand on the door lever. If this went sour, he would have to act fast.

The man raised his glass in some kind of toast to Irelyn, then at last tilted it to his mouth and took a long drink. The instant he swallowed, Grey released a heavy sigh tinged with both relief and sadness. In the next few moments, two lives would change forever, and one would end.
 

Grey waited. He could do nothing until the event was over. The two people on the screen continued to talk for several more minutes. The poison wasn’t the fastest-acting, but it was unidentifiable in blood tests and the most effective for the desired result—death.

Without warning, Irelyn did something extraordinary. She shot up from the sofa and stared directly at the camera, which was inside the small clock on the mantel. Fear like he’d never seen before was flashing in her eyes. What the hell?

A movement to her right caught his attention. The man on the sofa clutched his chest, his face a deep red. He keeled over, landing in a heap on the hardwood floor. Irelyn tore her eyes away from the camera and dropped to her knees beside the man. She loosened his tie, pulled a pillow from the sofa and shoved it under his feet.

None of those actions were part of the plan. She was supposed to leave immediately. A cleanup crew would be there in minutes to erase all evidence of her presence. So why the hell was she repositioning the body and giving CPR to the bastard?

Grey jumped from the van that had been parked half a block from the luxury apartments. If the man revived and realized Irelyn’s betrayal, what she had done, she would be dead in seconds.
 

Dammit, he would never forgive her if she went and got herself killed.
 

Cursing every floor of the thirty-story building, he sprang from the elevator the moment it shuddered to a stop. Inserting the key into the lock, Grey pushed the door open, ready to kill the bastard with his bare hands if he’d put even one finger on Irelyn.
 

He heard soft, rasping sobs and huffs of labored breath. He ran toward the sounds and found what he had seen on the screen. Irelyn was on her knees, giving CPR to the man on the floor. Only, it was apparent the lifesaving act was a useless endeavor. The bastard was most definitely dead.

Aware that she was as dangerous as she was volatile, Grey sat on the sofa a few feet away from her and said in a calm, firm voice, “It’s over, Irelyn. He’s gone.”

The ravaged face of a stranger, eyes wild with horror, looked up at him. “He didn’t do it. He had nothing to do with Jonah’s death. He said he was in the process of arranging the hit when another inmate jumped Jonah and killed him.”

When Grey said nothing—hell, what could he say—she leaned forward and grasped his knee, clawing into his skin with her nails. Inches from his face, she shouted, “He didn’t fucking kill him, Grey!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead. There’s nothing to be done.”

“Yes, there is. We can call an ambulance. They can revive him. Help me with the CPR. We can save him.”

“No. He was never meant to survive this night, Irelyn. It’s what we agreed on.”

“That was when we thought he was responsible for Jonah’s death.”

“He might not have killed Jonah, but how many others has he killed? How many lives has he destroyed? He had to die.”

The truth finally hit her. She collapsed back onto the floor and stared down at the body of one of the most ruthless and heartless contract killers in the world. “I loved him.”

“I know you did.”

Hearing a noise at the door, Grey sat up. The cleanup crew had arrived. He needed to get Irelyn out of the apartment so they could do their job.

He went to her, pulled gently on her shoulder to help her stand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Instead of resisting him, she surprised the hell out of him by falling into his arms. A wave of tenderness threatened…Grey shoved it aside. It was an emotion he didn’t allow in his life anymore. Still, he was extraordinarily gentle as he picked her up and cradled her in his arms.

Eyes closed, skin ashen, she pressed her face against his neck and said softly, “I hate you for this.”

“I know.”

“I’ll never forgive you.”

“I know that, too.”

And with that settled between them, Grey carried Irelyn from the room.
 

Chapter Thirty-seven

Kennedy wasn’t sure what she had expected when she entered Adam Slater’s home, but it certainly wasn’t DeAnne Slater screeching at the top of her lungs in an argument with her husband.

Kennedy stood in the doorway, hesitant to move forward. The couple stood on the second-floor landing. A giant foyer separated them from her, but she had no trouble hearing their heated exchange.
 

Adam’s butler stood behind her, holding her luggage. She didn’t know what the butler was doing, but she had a feeling he was staring in open-mouthed amazement, as was she.

“I don’t care what you told her. I will not allow another woman to live in this house again. You call her and tell her she’s not going to live here or so help me, Adam Slater, I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Now, DeAnne, you know that’s not going to happen. You go to your room and sulk if you like, but I make the rules around here.”

“You don’t make the rules, and you damn well know it. You can barely wipe your ass without your daddy’s permission.”

“That’s enough. I’m assuming we won’t see you for dinner.”

“You’ll be lucky if you ever see me again. I—”

Apparently realizing she had an audience, the woman glared down at Kennedy. “Looks like your
houseguest
has arrived.”
 

Even though her words dripped with bitterness, Kennedy heard the hurt behind them. When Adam remained silent, DeAnne turned on her heel and disappeared. Seconds later, the hard slam of a door was her final comment.

“Rachel, welcome.”

Adam came down the stairs toward her with a broad smile, giving no indication that only seconds before he had been engaged in a shouting match with his wife.

“I’ve come at a bad time.”

“Absolutely not. We’re both thrilled to have you here. DeAnne can be a bit dramatic, but when you get to know her, I know you’ll love her as much as I do.”

Kennedy chose to ignore the double meaning of those words.
 

He raised his eyes to the man standing so patiently behind Kennedy. “Take Ms. Walker’s bags to her rooms.”

Wordlessly, the man headed up the stairs.

“I know you’ve seen this wing of the house, but let me show you the rest.”

Kennedy made appreciative remarks as they traveled from one elegant room to another. Adam reminded her of a teenager doing everything he could to impress a girl. He pointed out priceless artifacts, sharing little stories of how he’d obtained them. The thought came to her that if he lost all his money and didn’t go to prison as she wanted, he might make an excellent tour guide.

An hour and a half later, they had finally finished the tour. Between her nerves and the need for the perpetual smile etched on her face, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to her assigned quarters and fall into bed. Adam’s next words banished her exhaustion and put her on high alert.

“Dinner should now be ready. We’ll dine in the small dining room. DeAnne won’t be joining us, so it’ll be just us two.” His smile grew smarmy as he added, “Give us a chance to get to know each other better.”

Already ragged nerves shot straight to her stomach and developed into full-blown nausea. Had his insistence that he didn’t want to sleep with her been another one of his lies? Before she could come up with a proper excuse to skip dinner, she heard a throat being cleared behind them.
 

Adam glanced over his shoulder, impatient arrogance on his face. “Yes, Stanley?”

“You have a call, sir.”

Returning his attention back to Kennedy, he lifted his hand, as if waving away an irritating insect. “As you can well see, I’m in the middle of something. Take a message or tell them to call back.”

“But, sir, I believe you will want to talk with this caller.”

“Okay. Fine. Ring it to my cellphone.”

“I think you’ll want to take this call in private.”

“Oh.” Adam’s eyes went wide as he turned back and gave Stanley his full attention. “Send it to my office. I’ll get it in a—”

“Sir.” This time Stanley’s voice held a tinge of exasperation. “I believe you’ll want to take this one in the secure room.”

Though she could see only Adam’s profile, the instant tension in his body indicated the caller was vitally important to him. What really caught her attention were Stanley’s words: “secure room.”
 

They had been over the diagram of the mansion numerous times—she knew this place as well as she knew her own home. And other than his private rooms he shared with his wife, Adam had shown her the entire house, top to bottom. Not once had he mentioned a “secure room.”
 

Could he have a special room in his private quarters? Or was there another room not on the blueprints? Maybe one that Adam had added on after the mansion was completed? Was that why Nick had been unable to find anything incriminating or useful in his office?

With an absentminded glance, Adam said, “Excuse me, Rachel, I need to take this. I doubt that I’ll be free for dinner after all. Your meal will be delivered to your quarters. Good night.”

Gone was the charming gentleman eager to impress. This was a man worried about an impending phone call. Dammit, she really wanted to know what that call was about.

Her smile was polite, cool. “Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With a vague nod of acknowledgment in her general vicinity, he headed in the direction of his office. Kennedy took a step to follow him. A voice behind her said, “This way, Ms. Walker.”

Knowing she could do nothing right now, Kennedy followed Stanley out the door. Was this the break they had been looking for? The place where Adam kept his secret files?
 

She intended to find out.

Nick sat in the dark. The only light was from the monitor on the desk in front of him, which revealed a sleeping Kennedy. As before, they had opted for video over sound. Justice had offered a new bug just on the market that was known to be undetectable, but with Adam’s paranoia, they chose not to take the chance. The travel alarm clock Kennedy brought with her served as their camera. It wasn’t much—giving him access to only a small part of her bedroom, but at least each night when she lay down to sleep he knew she was safe for one more day.

The Friday meetings they had scheduled at a salon Grey owned would be their only communication. The lack of contact with her would drive him crazy, but he had known going in that this could be a long-term commitment. Kennedy would have to earn Adam’s trust before any further progress could be made.

Nick rubbed his grit-filled eyes. Sleep wouldn’t come for a long time. How could he rest when her last words to him continued to slam into him with the force of a jackhammer? She had seen straight through him. The excuse he’d thrown at her—that she would never get over Thomas—had been a coward’s attempt to hide his own guilt.