Whatever It Takes (16 page)

Having someone want him dead was nothing new. He had enemies on both sides of the law. Any one of them would gladly do the deed, or pay millions to see the deed done. It was, however, a new thing for Irelyn to be concerned.

Their relationship, complicated and tumultuous, had lasted longer than many marriages. He had alternated between hatred and adoration for most of that time. No one but the two of them knew the truth of how they began. And no one would understand nor, he figured, comprehend their strange relationship. It had worked for them, though. Or at least, it once had.

He wanted to be angry with her, but relief washed away the wrath. She might have left him again, most certainly she hadn’t forgiven him, but he knew to his soul that she wasn’t the one behind these bizarre killings. Maybe seeing her again, even for that short while, had knocked some sense into him. No way in hell did Irelyn have it within her to take a life in such a cold-blooded, violent way. At least now he could fully concentrate on finding the real killer, as opposed to figuring out a way to protect Irelyn.

More important, if he were in danger from an unknown person, then Irelyn was also at risk. And that was something he would not tolerate.

Chapter Eighteen

West Orange, New Jersey

She leaned against an ancient oak, its long, broad branches obscuring her from view. If anyone looked her way, she wouldn’t be seen. Though she knew herself to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, when on the job, she was good at blending in, being invisible.

Not that any of them would look around. When they scurried from the house, as they soon would, their focus would be on getting to their destination. Too self-absorbed, caught up in their own little drama, their own silly little selves, to have an interest in anyone else. Nor would they ever suspect that any harm would come to them. Their minds would be on the future, what they planned to do with their portion of a huge windfall that was about to come their way. 

It amused her to know that there would be no future for them.

She had taken many lives in her career. It was a lucrative occupation, and she’d discovered early in life that she excelled at it. How many people were fortunate enough to love their work and make a ton of money doing it? Only a handful, she was sure.

She rarely had a conscience about such things. How awkward would that be? And she didn’t discriminate. Old, young, rich, poor. Sex, race, religion, or sexual preference made no difference. She could be the poster child for non-discrimination. An equal opportunity killer.

Usually, she gave little thought to whom she killed. She had a specific target, she did the deed and left. No muss, no fuss. She didn’t bother to figure out the whys or nuances of the contract. It was a job and nothing more. But the sheer magnitude of this job was both unique and exciting. Her kill tally was now at two. In about ten minutes, it would be at six. She had two more lined up, but she wanted more. She wanted them all. It would be a contract of a lifetime and, once complete, would make her one of the most-sought-after assassins in the world. But that wasn’t the biggest reason she wanted the job. Finishing what her friend and mentor had started would be a tribute to the man she’d loved and lost.

So she had done some research…she was a bit of a history buff anyway. She knew the why and the who. Knowing didn’t make her look at the job any differently. Didn’t change her plans or her thinking. But it was an interesting oddity she’d enjoyed learning.

She heard sounds like the gobbling of angry turkeys. And yes, there were two of her marks, spilling out of the house, on their fake mission of mercy. She clicked on her earbud so she could listen to their manic frenzy.

“I don’t care that you had to cancel plans, Miles,” Graham Clancy snarled. “Don’t you think I have things I’d rather do this weekend, too?”

“Well, I don’t see why I have to be there,” Miles whined. “She’s your crazy mother, not mine.”

“Because she’s your grandmother and if you expect to inherit any of her money, you’ll be there so she’ll damn well remember you. If you think you’re getting any of mine, you’re wrong. I’m tired of pulling your ass out of the fire. Next time you get arrested for a DUI or shoplifting, you can just stay in jail or pay your own bail.”

“Those charges were bogus, and you know it. I got targeted by the cops because of who I am. Any time they see my car, they stop and harass me. I oughta file some kind of lawsuit.”

“Yeah, you do that. In the meantime, get your ass in the car.” The man turned and glared at the door of the house. “Where the hell are your mother and sister?”

“They’re arguing again, as usual. I don’t know why we have to have the bitches along anyway.”

The man raised a stubby finger and shook it. “Don’t you talk about your family like that, especially this weekend. The old lady needs to think we’re one big damn happy family. When she croaks, we can go back to normal. Till then, you keep your trash-talking mouth shut.”

The boy looked down at the phone in his hand. “Whatever.”

She couldn’t quite see his face, but she imagined an eye roll had accompanied his answer.

Another gobbling noise sounded, this time higher pitched and even more irritating than the grousing of the males.  

“That’s not my problem, Kimberly,” an older woman snapped as she marched out the door. “You knew we were going away for the weekend when you made your plans. You’ve only yourself to blame.”

Kimberly stomped her foot in frustration. “I don’t see why Ritz can’t come with us.”

“Because, you idiot, your grandmother is about to die. She’s the widow of Oscar Clancy. Do you get that?”

“I know who my grandparents are, Mother,” Kimberly replied with a sulk in her voice as only a fifteen-year-old could. “That doesn’t explain why Ritz can’t come with us.”

“I will not have you parade that skinny, long-haired, over-tattooed loser in front of your grandmother. We are the old lady’s only heirs. This is our last chance to make nice. To make a good impression. Putz is an embarrassment.” 

“Ritz. His name is Ritz, not Putz.”

“Same difference. And get that self-righteous look off your face, young lady.” She pointed a finger at her daughter. Any objective onlooker would judge her finger-pointing abilities superior to those of her husband. “If you don’t behave in a proper manner this weekend, and your grandmother ends up leaving her money to some freaking charity instead of her rightful heirs, I will send you away to school and make sure you never see that long-haired putz again. Do you hear me?”

Instead of replying, Kimberly stomped to the car, got in the back, and slammed the door.

Giving one another what she imagined were “I hate you” glares, the rest of the family got into the car, the man behind the wheel. The car started up, and they took off. One big happy family.

She glanced at her watch. If Graham Clancy drove at ten miles over the speed limit, as he normally did, the timing would work perfectly. Wet roads, a sharp curve, a steep, rocky hollow, and no brakes. A recipe for disaster.

Or in her case, a job well done.

Feeling quite pleased with herself, she adjusted her backpack and disappeared into the woods. Much to do. People to see; people to kill.

Chapter Nineteen

It had been ten days since she’d talked with Gabriella Mendoza and so far, nothing. Kathleen had almost decided the short conversation would produce no results. Grey wasn’t discouraged, saying these things took time. 

While she waited and hoped Gabriella wouldn’t let them down, Kathleen had plenty to keep her busy. Her workdays started at Eli’s home, where, despite her protests, Eli insisted she join him and the girls for breakfast. Although this gave her an opportunity to get to know her charges better, it also felt a little too homey for her liking. She’d been hired to do a job, not become a part of their family.

Storybook time had been just that once, and she would never admit it to Eli, but reading to both girls about Starburst and her merry band of fairies had actually been quite fun. Seeing Eudora, their favorite fairy sprite, and the resemblance to herself had been amusing. She could definitely see why Eli had arranged for her to wear that particular dress for her first meeting with his children. It had been almost an exact replica of Eudora’s dress. Even though the deception still riled her, she couldn’t help but secretly applaud his ingenuity. Eli Slater knew how to get what he wanted.

Keeping a professional distance while answering Sophia’s multitude of questions on the way to school wasn’t easy. Eli had assured her it was a phase, but Kathleen wasn’t so sure. Even though she had basically raised Alice, she didn’t remember her sister having so many questions. Which was probably a good thing, because she’d definitely not had any answers back then.

After breakfast, the girls would get buckled into the backseat, and she and Eli would get into the front. Then the caravan would begin.

Other than a couple of suspicious cars that Eli’s guard had not allowed to get close, there had been no problems. Once they arrived at school, Eli would walk the girls inside, while Kathleen followed behind, stopping at the door, her eyes open for any threats.

The most uncomfortable times came when she and Eli were alone in the car. Kathleen felt she needed to maintain her distance, but she also couldn’t deny she wanted to know more about Eli Slater, the man behind the public persona.

Ridiculous not to feel comfortable asking him questions when he definitely had no such reservations. The man knew entirely too much about her.

So while she silently struggled to come up with subtle questions to get to know him better, Eli once again showed her that when it came to her privacy, he had no boundary issues. “You ever hear from your ex?”

Though her expression remained blank, her nerves jumped at the intrusive question. Deciding that just because he asked didn’t mean she had to answer, she kept her eyes on the outside mirror. They had already dropped the children off for the day and were headed back to Eli’s home. Just a few more miles and she could relax her guard.

As if he hadn’t noticed she’d ignored his question, he shot her a laughing look. “The guy was way too prissy for you anyway.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Kat. You have to admit it. Bet that perfect hair of his never moved even during windstorms. I’ll also hazard a guess that his socks, underwear, and ties always matched. Didn’t they?”

Ignoring the sexy way he was grinning at her, and the jolt of pleasure she felt at the way he’d shortened her name, she gave him a disdainful look. “That’s your definition of a prissy man? Good hair and color-coordinated clothing?”

“It’s a start.”

Since his own thick, golden hair sometimes looked a little mussed, as if he ran his fingers through it a lot, she glanced down at his feet. He wore navy socks. She then looked at his dress shirt, which was casually open at the throat. No tie. Her gazed traveled up to his face. Though she wasn’t surprised by the glint of amusement in his eyes, she was startled by the surprising heat behind the laughter. Even more startling was the answering surge of warmth in her body. Oh, this was so not a good thing.

“If you’re wondering about my underwear,” he continued with that too-charming grin, “you’ll be pleased to know I’m wearing white and blue checkered boxers. Quite sedate, if that matters.”

Blushing to the roots of her hair, she jerked her eyes back to the mirror outside the car window. “I wasn’t wondering. And it doesn’t matter.”

He laughed again and said softly, “Liar.”

“Very well. You want to get personal, let’s. Tell me about Shelley. What was she like? How long were you married? Was she a good mother? When did you find out she had drug and alcohol addictions?”

If she had wanted to remove the smile from his face and the laughter from his eyes, she had succeeded spectacularly. A wave of shame seeped through her. He had been teasing her, flirting. She had turned a lighthearted moment into an ugly one.

“Listen, Eli. I’m sorry. Please don’t—”

“No. It’s a reasonable question. One I’ll do my best to answer.” 

The mood in the car now as somber as a funeral, Kathleen stared miserably out the window, wishing she could cut off her own tongue. When she was uncomfortable or felt unsure of herself, she lashed out.

In a tone holding no animosity or resentment, he said, “I think I told you I met her at university. On graduation day, actually. She had already graduated…was a year older than me. She was at a party I attended. And she was lovely. Tall, statuesque. She looked like a golden goddess. When we started dating, I had no idea of her addiction problems. I found out later she was in the middle of one of her recoveries.

“Her family is quite well-off and had spent thousands getting her the help she needed. She was charming and, looking back on it later, almost too lighthearted. We had some good times. I thought we were the perfect match…so we married.

“For the first few months, it was wonderful. Then I became more immersed in the running of Slater House Hotels. I’d worked there while pursuing my degrees, and when I graduated, Mathias heaped more responsibility onto me. I didn’t argue. Why would I? My father and I were often at odds with each other, so when he finally tasked me with the duty of running one of his companies, I hoped we might finally have something in common.”

He flashed her a grim smile. “Thank God we never did.”

His expression going bleak, he continued, “Shelley was very creative. Loved designing clothes. I didn’t realize how frustrated she would get when things weren’t working well.

“She got pregnant. We hadn’t talked about it. It wasn’t the best timing, but we were both thrilled. She occupied herself with planning for the baby. Had a nursery designed. Bought tons of clothing, bedding, furniture. I let her have anything she wanted. She was almost manic in her need to get things for the baby.

“After Sophia was born, Shelley had the blues a bit. I suggested she get back into designing, so we hired Teresa as Sophia’s nanny. And things seemed to be back on track.