Page 2 of Heartless

Not that it mattered. A kill was a kill. He’d been sent to take her out, and he’d accomplished his objective. It’d been harder to find her than anticipated. Which was one of the reasons he’d been brought in to do the job. Having an intimate knowledge of the target was always a good way to find your prey.

She’d drunk tea every night before she went to bed. A common enough occurrence, with one exception. It was a special brand of tea. So special that only one shop—in Kolkata, India—carried that specific blend. Few people knew about her preference, which was why she’d probably felt so safe when she had ordered a new batch last week to be delivered to Nashville. Hacking into the shop’s files to get her address had been ridiculously simple.

No one else would have even known to do this. He had proven himself a loyal soldier, a valuable ally. Just one more way he was demonstrating his worth to his employer.

Glancing around the small apartment, he noted she’d actually started nesting here. Colorful throw pillows, some fragile-looking knickknacks on the mantel, and even a photo of her family when she was a child. In her former life, that would have been a no-no. Even though her family was long dead, revealing the slightest bit of personal data could spell disaster. So yeah, she’d definitely begun to feel at home here. Safe.

Pity.

With a shrug, he turned toward the door. Even though he’d gotten the job done, completing the first step in the mission, he felt little satisfaction. He’d once had a fondness for the girl, so the triumph was bittersweet at best. But the next ones? Oh yes, the next ones would definitely bring him the satisfaction this one was missing.

Closing the door, he left the apartment, cheerfully anticipating what lay ahead.

The next kill would be on the other side of the country. With three safe houses already set up, he’d have no problem moving from one state to the other. His targets were professionals, so there would be surveillance needed to ensure he made the hit sudden and unexpected. No one would see him coming.

He’d parked two blocks away in a large store parking lot. It was a lazy, late summer afternoon in downtown Nashville. People were getting off work, headed to restaurants and clubs, eager to put their day behind them. No one noticed an attractive, albeit rather scruffy-looking, man ambling down the sidewalk. He was just one of many.

He was half a block away from the parking lot where he’d left his car when he realized he was being followed. Instinctively, he moved his hand toward his gun, but before he could reach it, two giants shoved him into an alleyway. He half turned to get a quick view, and the bullet caught him in the temple. He never got the chance to wonder who would want him dead or why he had been betrayed. He was dead in an instant.

It took seconds to load the man into the van and speed away.

CHAPTER ONE

Present Day

Mexico City, Mexico

The bearded man moved through the zealous, celebratory crowd. No one paid him attention. No one saw anything he didn’t want them to see. He noticed everyone…aware of every movement, every nuance. Every face, every gesture was observed and measured. Threats could come from anywhere, anyone. Some of the most lethal came wrapped in silk and satin. He knew this all too well.

His face was obscured by a heavy beard, a baseball cap covered his brown hair, and his clothes were dark, unassuming. Everything about him said he was alone and wanted to stay that way. No one would dare approach him. He was barely a face in the crowd.

Nicholas Hawthorne, or Hawke to everyone who knew him, had been moving through cities and countries like this for half his life. It was second nature, and if a part of him felt as if this was his destiny, another part believed it was his punishment. He had glimpsed heaven, and instead of hanging on to it with all his might, he’d allowed it to drift away. Now it was merely a memory—perhaps even a fantasy. Had it ever been real?

The pain had been real, that was for damn sure.

A flash of golden hair caught his eye. The din around him ceased to exist. He held his breath. His only awareness was the hard pounding of his heart followed by an ache so deep and raw he felt it to his bones.

The woman slowly turned, and for a scant moment, his heart and breath stopped. An odd combination of joy mixed with rage surged through him. She shouldn’t be here… It was too dangerous. How had she found him? How did she know—

Seconds later, his mind acknowledged that he was looking at the face of a stranger.

Breath rattled through his chest in an exhalation of both relief and disappointment. And if that wasn’t the stupidest reaction, he didn’t know what was.

He shook it off, and life around him resumed.

He was long past seeing her face every time he spotted a golden-haired woman, but on occasion, the steel that encased his heart weakened, the longing would seep inside, and he would see her everywhere. The flash of a slender hand as a woman spoke with animation. Husky laughter that sounded both joyous and sensuous. And the hair—glorious golden hair, which had often draped over his bare chest when they’d lain in bed. He used to complain, jokingly, that she slept on him more than she slept on the bed. He hadn’t minded, though. Opening his eyes first thing in the morning and seeing her head nestled against him, her hair splayed over him, had been one of the delights of his life.

Cursing himself for getting lost in the memories, he continued toward his destination. The clock was ticking. If this didn’t pay off this time, if he didn’t get the intel he needed to put these bastards down once and for all, then he would have to do what he had sworn he would never do. He was going to have to return from the dead.

Being dead had held many advantages. He could see events no one thought he could see, do things no one could imagine could be done—all because he didn’t exist.

Some part of him was desperate to return—it was a need he fought against daily. He wanted answers. A no-holds-barred, face-to-face confrontation until truth bled all over them. He’d been waiting too long.

Another part, though, told him he already knew the truth, and he’d gotten exactly what he deserved.

He stopped a half block from his destination and studied the area. Not the safest neighborhood, but not the worst either. Tall buildings with offices for various businesses blended with smaller structures holding tattoo parlors, delis, and pawn shops. At half past one in the morning, this area of the city was quiet except for those looking to cause trouble.

According to his intel, the meeting was to take place in one of the taller buildings up the block. He noted that the building was dark with the exception of the third floor. Understandably, a meeting between a major drug cartel and the Mexican Mafia needed secrecy as well as privacy. With no visible vehicles or people around, the light could simply be evidence of a cleaning crew. But Hawke knew that was not the case. There were likely more than a dozen hidden soldiers from both sides looking for threats.