Point of No Return (16 page)

Placing a call to the woman he used as both maid and housekeeper, he gave her instructions on shutting down his apartment—what to put in storage, what to throw away. He didn’t know when, or if, he’d ever be back.

His conscience, a part of him Kade had thought long since dead, was stirring, urging him to go up and knock on Kathleen’s door. But what would he say? That he’d just come to say goodbye? Kade knew the truth—if he walked in her door, he wouldn’t have the strength to leave, and so he’d be signing her death warrant.

A car drove up and Kade watched as Blane got out. He took the stairs two at a time, then stood outside her door, hesitating. Kade had left him with the shit job of telling Kathleen. Hopefully, making Blane the messenger would work to bring them back together. If there was one thing that was certain, it was that Blane deserved to get the girl—not Kade.

Finally, Blane knocked and a moment later, Kathleen answered.

Kade strained his neck, trying to see her around Blane’s form blocking the doorway, but he didn’t even get a glimpse of her. Blane entered the apartment, the door closing behind him.

And that was that.

Kade leaned against the tree behind him, the rough bark of the trunk abrading his back through the thin T-shirt he wore. He should leave. Blane was there and Kade didn’t want or need to see Kathleen with him.

His mind told him this, but the masochist inside him wouldn’t let him leave, forcing him to stay and watch. Would Blane stay the night? Would he sleep in her bed?

The idea of Kathleen making love with Blane had Kade shoving a hand through his hair, his skin practically itching with frustration, his muscles tensing as though preparing for a fight. He couldn’t get the picture out of his head, his imagination painting Kathleen’s naked body in vivid detail beneath Blane’s. The sounds she made, the way her legs would wrap around his waist
. . .

To his surprise, and shameful relief, Blane suddenly reappeared after only a few minutes. He went next door and spoke to the neighbor—Kade couldn’t remember her name—then got in his car and drove away.

Kade wanted to both yell at Blane for leaving Kathleen alone, and thank him, for the same reason.

He needed to go. If he stuck around there like some love-smitten teenager hiding among the trees, the temptation to go see Kathleen would eventually become more than he could withstand. And she didn’t need that. Kade needed to disappear from her life so she could get on with living it.

With Blane.

Kade stepped farther into the trees, preparing to go, then stopped when Kathleen’s door opened again and she came flying out. His breath caught as pain pierced him, his eyes drinking in what he could see of her in the faint glow cast from the parking lot lights.

Hurrying down the steps, she got inside her car. Seconds later, she was pulling out of the lot.

Where was she going? If Kade had to guess, he assumed she was heading to Blane’s. Maybe she’d turned him down and now realized that was a mistake. They were perfect for each other. The two of them together looked like each one had been made to complement the other. Kathleen was as pretty, innocent, and as girl-next-door as it was possible to be. Team that with Blane’s all-American heartthrob good looks, and they made a formidable pair.

The cameras would love them.

Kade was standing in front of Kathleen’s door without having consciously decided to move. Automatically picking the lock, he stepped inside.

What the hell am I doing?
he thought.
Why can’t I just leave? Why torture myself?

But it seemed logic wasn’t ruling his actions. Not tonight.

Kade drifted back to her bedroom. The sight of the half-packed suitcase sitting on the bed made his throat close up.

He was doing the right thing. He was. Maybe she didn’t understand or wouldn’t agree, but eventually she’d be glad he was gone. Both she and Blane would be.

A discarded T-shirt lay on the floor and Kade scooped it up, recognizing it as one of Kathleen’s favorite sleep shirts. Though she had lingerie and pajamas, he’d most often found her sleeping in T-shirts.

A memory came to him, of when he’d once come to Kathleen’s apartment looking for Blane. The Santinis had hired Kade to kill her. He had sat in a chair in a corner of her bedroom, watching her sleep as he’d contemplated what to do. If Kade hadn’t found the photos they’d used to blackmail Blane—if he hadn’t realized Blane had probably told them to go fuck themselves—he would’ve killed Kathleen without a second thought.

But Blane had disappeared, leaving Kade suspecting the Santinis of taking matters into their own hands.

She’d been wearing a little T-shirt then, the fabric riding up to her waist as she slept, teasing Kade with a view of the tiny pair of satin panties she wore. The virginal white fabric had nearly screamed “off limits” but that hadn’t stopped him from wanting her. He’d briefly wondered what she’d do if she woke with his mouth on the paradise between her thighs
. . .

Luckily, Kathleen had woken before Kade had done something stupid, her eyes frightened when she saw him, then filling with terror when she realized he was there to kill her.

In the end, he hadn’t been able to do either of the two actions he’d considered—he couldn’t kill her and he couldn’t fuck her. Maybe it had been the innocence etched into every word she said, every move she made. Or perhaps it was the purity of her soul that shone in her clear blue eyes.

Kathleen was good, and even after all the darkness and evil that surrounded him and lived inside him, Kade had recognized it—and been unable to destroy something so precious and rare.

Of course, it hadn’t hurt that she looked like a goddamn fairy-tale princess, her long hair lying in tousled waves over her shoulders and down her back. The shade of gold had a rose hue, as though the locks had been kissed by the sunrise. Her cheeks were ivory porcelain, a flush blooming in them when Kade had touched her, his hands slipping under her T-shirt because he hadn’t been able to go a moment longer not knowing how the curve of her hip felt in his hand, or the exact dip of her waist.

Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, had held his gaze captive. The scent of her perfume drifted between them, reminding Kade of a time long ago—a time when he’d thought fate would be kind, that he’d paid enough in blood and tears for a lifetime.

He’d been wrong.

Holding the T-shirt to his face, Kade inhaled deeply. The fabric was drenched in Kathleen’s scent. Not her perfume, but the scent of her skin and hair.

A wave of pure agony washed over him and Kade stumbled to the bed, sitting down heavily. Kathleen had only fitfully made the bed, her pillow still dented from the impression of her head, and he found himself resting his fingers on the hollow.

How quickly would she forget about him? Would she tell his baby about him, or would Blane’s name only be spoken as the father?

Kade abruptly stood. Time to go.

Everything was blurred as he walked through the kitchen, and it wasn’t until he was sitting inside his car that he realized he still clutched Kathleen’s T-shirt in his hand.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

I
t had been a fourteen-hour drive from Indy to Boston. Kade would have driven it without stopping, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He’d pulled off somewhere near Allentown, finding a dive of a motel and paying cash for a room.

After showering, he’d lain on the bed in his jeans, unable to sleep. He picked up his cell, a new burner phone he’d bought. His old phone lay at the bottom of the White River outside Indy, where he’d stopped to toss it after leaving Kathleen’s apartment.

His fingers traced the numbers for Kathleen’s cell, but he didn’t dial. Kade had made it impossible for either Blane or Kathleen to reach him, which was best for them all. A clean break.

The T-shirt he’d taken from Kathleen’s apartment lay on the bed beside him. Absently, Kade picked it up. The fabric was worn, soft, and still smelled of her. He wondered if she was with Blane, waking up in his arms this morning.

He fell asleep with her image behind his closed eyes. His dreams were filled with Kathleen in his bed, her eyes warm and soft as he kissed her, the feel of her nails digging into his back as he pushed deep inside her, her gasps and sighs echoing in his ears.

Waking to the reality he now faced from the peace and contentment of his dreams was like dying from a thousand cuts.

Kade arrived in Boston the next night. He drove straight to his office, pulling into the garage and parking. The garage was actually part of the space, his “office” being an old self-storage building. It was made of thick red brick, with a chain-link fence surrounding it to discourage any curiosity. If someone did get too close, the grounds were wired with numerous ways to scare them off.

Climbing a wrought-iron spiral staircase, Kade stepped into a loft that he’d converted to a living space. Unlike his apartment in Indy, it wasn’t luxurious or even that comfortable. But it was functional, and that was all he really required.

The stark white, windowless walls were bare, and Kade pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the bed as he headed to the kitchen area. Pulling open the fridge, he grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and drank half the bottle in one long gulp. A moment later, he was heading back down the stairs to where he’d set up his computers.

Various green and blue lights glowed in the dark as Kade flipped on the overhead lights. A server rack was on his right, the computers it contained humming. The noise was familiar and comforting to Kade. At least he had control over this part of his life, considering the rest had gone to complete and utter shit.

Six computer monitors, stacked two tall, sat on a large table. Kade sank into the chair in front of the monitors, toggling a key on the lone keyboard. The screens flickered to life. Two of the monitors showed the black-and-white footage of surveillance cameras—some for here, others for his apartment in Indy. Glancing over the ones in Indy, he saw the housekeeper hadn’t yet taken care of the place as he’d directed.

Kade’s need to know about Kathleen ate at him, and it was only because of an iron grip on his self-control that he didn’t try and call her. He briefly considered calling Blane, but knew he couldn’t do that, either.

It was clear he should get to work. There were jobs waiting to be done, just sitting there on his desk. Jobs he’d taken when he’d thought going legit would solve all his problems. Now, he didn’t give a shit.

The next night he sat in a bar, drink in hand. He’d lost track of how many he’d had. But still, no matter how much he drank, it didn’t seem to numb the pain eating him from the inside out.

He’d been a fool to think somebody like him could have a happily-ever-after.

The joy and peace he’d felt when Kathleen had said she loved him, wanted to be with him, told him she was carrying their child—all of it had faded to ash. It had been so close
. . .

Kade tipped the glass back, emptying the clear liquid in one swallow. He set it back down on the bar, caught the bartender’s eye, and tapped it to signal a refill. Obligingly, the man came over, grabbing a bottle on the way, and poured another double for him.

“Everything all right there, buddy?” the bartender asked. “You wanna talk about it?”

Kade glanced up and frowned, pulled from his thoughts by the questions. The man was watching him with some concern, which just pissed Kade off. “What are you, a fucking bartender or a shrink? Fuck off.”

Immediately dismissing the man from his attention, Kade returned to his thoughts. The bartender went away. He might’ve been pissed. Kade didn’t care.

He left when the bar closed and the now not-so-friendly bartender kicked him out. Kade was unlocking his car when he heard the scuff of a shoe behind him and a voice say, “Give me your wallet, dickhead.”

Kade sighed. He really didn’t feel like this shit tonight. Turning around, he leaned back against the car, surveying the guy who was stupid enough to try and mug him.

He was about Kade’s height, with a slightly heavier build. It was hard to tell his age in the dark, though there was no mistaking the knife in his hand.

“Listen,” Kade said, his lips twisting into something resembling a smile, “you seem like a real nice guy, so I’m going to give you some advice. Go find someone else to play with tonight. I’m in a shitty mood.”

“Shut up and give it to me, or I’ll hand you your fucking spleen,” the guy threatened.

Kade gave a mock frown. “Do you even know where the spleen
is
?” he asked. “Not that I’m doubting your sincerity, just your capability.” This guy was starting to piss him off, the anger burning away both the alcohol and the pain.

Apparently, the guy didn’t know where the spleen was located, because when he lunged, he was miles off. Kade reacted quickly, twisting to the side to avoid the clumsy knife thrust, then grabbing the guy’s wrist.

Now they were in close quarters. Anger spiked hard in Kade. He jabbed his bent elbow up, catching the mugger on the soft spot underneath his chin. The guy faltered at the blow, his teeth clacking hard together. Kade bent the guy’s wrist down and shoved, a crack letting him know he’d broken the joint. The guy cried out in pain, the knife dropping from his fingers, but Kade was too far gone to let things go with that.

His fist shot out in a crushing blow to the man’s esophagus, then Kade’s elbow caught him in the solar plexus. The guy went down, his good hand flying to his neck as he tried in vain to suck down air.

Kade watched for the one hundred and eighty seconds, thereabouts, it took for a man to suffocate. When the guy was still, Kade reached down and picked up the dropped knife. It wasn’t a bad piece. Flipping the blade closed, he pocketed it and got in his car.

As he drove away, the anger and rage ebbed, replaced by the familiar tide of despair. It was an odd realization to come to and it only took Kade as long as the drive back to his office to figure it out. So long as he was inflicting pain and death, he didn’t feel the pain of missing her. And it had felt good to not feel so fucking bad for even a little while.

Well. Problem solved. Because if there was one thing Kade could do, it was kill people. And as a bonus, it also paid well.

Once word got out that Kade Dennon had come out of retirement and was back in the field, business started booming.

Kade fell back into the routine almost too easily. Take a job. Study the target. Plan the mission. Execute it. Doing it kept his mind busy. You had to be cold on the inside to look someone in the eye—someone for whom you had no personal animus, no grudge or hatred—and kill them. And with each new contract he fulfilled, that coldness grew larger and even more frigid.

He took jobs no one else would, because in the end, there’s nothing more deadly than an assassin with nothing to lose. Everything he’d almost had was already gone.

It was close to midnight in the part of the world he now inhabited, and the flat he was invading had a security system.
Had
being the operative word, as Kade had already disabled it.

In the past Kade had lived by a code of sorts, and it determined the contracts he’d taken. He’d choose only those jobs whose targets were already criminals, but for whom wealth or politics put them beyond the reach of traditional law enforcement.

Now he didn’t particularly care what the job was. The more dangerous, the better. Some might say Kade had a death wish. He’d say he was already dead.

A guard stayed with his current target in his flat, and Kade stepped over the guard’s now lifeless body while scanning the shadows for any further threats. The stairs were carpeted, which further muffled Kade’s already silent footsteps. The study was down the hall and to the right, which was where—as the past three nights of surveillance had shown—the target always was at this hour.

Kade slowly approached the doorway, a sliver of light leaking through the open crack. Reaching out, he pushed the door open.

Only to be faced with a gun.

His target was standing in front of a desk, gun in hand, and pointing it directly at Kade.

“I’ve been expecting someone to come,” he said.

“Well then, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you,” Kade replied evenly.

“Toss your weapon on the floor,” the target ordered. Kade complied. “Now put your hands behind your head.”

Kade did as he was told while the man stepped back, carefully keeping an eye on Kade as he reached behind him for the phone on the desk. He dialed 999.

“You’re calling the cops?” Kade asked in disbelief as the man held the receiver to his ear. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The guy ignored him, reporting a break-in and requesting someone to come arrest the intruder.

“Just shoot me already,” Kade ordered in exasperation when the man hung up. “I am not going to fucking prison.”

“I don’t kill people if I don’t have to,” the man replied evenly.

Just then, a second guard came barreling down the hallway. He must’ve found his buddy’s body, Kade mused. It was enough to send the guy into full alert mode, which turned out to be too bad for him when he ran through the doorway.

Kade was ready, turning and yanking the guy by his gun arm and jerking him off-balance. He stumbled and Kade pulled his body in front of his own, using him as a shield for when the target reflexively fired his gun. Two shots rang out before the target realized he was shooting his own guy, the body in front of Kade jerking from the impact. The target looked stunned as the blood began flowing. Kade grabbed the guard’s hand, which still held a weapon, fitted his index finger over the one already on the trigger, raised the arm, and fired. The target went down. Kade dropped the guard’s body.

The whole thing had taken less than five seconds.

Stepping over the body, Kade approached the man who he’d shot in the chest. He stood over him, trying to feel something as he watched the blood pulsing from the open wound in time with the man’s heartbeat. All he could feel was a chilly detachment.

“Should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” Kade mused. It was too bad, really. It could’ve been his body on the floor instead of the guard’s.

The thought didn’t cause so much as a flicker of concern or fear, only a somewhat tired resignation.

The man didn’t respond, and a moment later, he couldn’t. He was dead.

Police sirens wailed and Kade decided the window would have to do tonight. Luckily, the building connected to another, which led to a fire escape that took him back down to street level. Three hours later, he was on a plane and out of the country.

The next job took him to the West Coast and a home that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. The place had cost millions and had top-of-the-line security. It was a fool’s mission to try an all-out assault on the place, which was guarded like a fortress. But Kade didn’t try to get to the house. He only had to wait until the target came to him.

The target had a weakness: sailing. If weather conditions were just right, he’d drop everything on his schedule and take the small sailboat he owned out onto the water. Despite all his security, it seemed he liked being alone for this one activity. Which was perfect.

Kade penetrated the lax security on the sailboat and hid below deck. Then he waited. According to weather reports, tomorrow morning had an eighty-five percent chance of having ideal sailing weather.