Page 55 of Brian and Mina's Holiday Hits
Windsor finally finishes his speech, gives a meaningful look to Brian, and then exits off the stage.
“Well, that’s my cue. Be good while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my very best,” I say as he leaves a lingering kiss against my neck.
TWENTY-EIGHT
brian
I followWindsor away from the party to the private part of the house and up to his study on the second floor. He unlocks the door, flips on the light switch, and ushers me inside. I wish I could just kill him right here, right now, but it’s far too messy.
Even though I’ve been to the Windsor Estate a few times before—enough to have the basic schematics down and know about some of the security he has in place—I don’t know enough to pull a job here. The risk of getting caught is still too high. And Mina doesn’t know to get out. I can’t risk her being detained if things go wrong.
Besides, this is a golden opportunity to be inside the belly of the beast with new eyes.
I scan the room, pretending to be interested in the books on his bookshelves and the paintings on his walls. He’s got The Count of Monte Cristo and Machiavelli’s The Prince on his bookshelf. These choices don’t surprise me. I’m not sure what exactly I’m looking for, but if there’s anything in this room I need to know about, now would be the ideal time to collect it.
“That’s a nice piece of ass you brought with you tonight,” he says by way of introduction.
I keep my face blank and shrug. “She’s okay on short notice. The agency assured me she was discreet at least.” I know this fuckface thinks she’s an escort, so may as well play into his assumptions. I’d rather he think she’s a paid companion than to think she might be some kind of threat to him—or leverage he can use against me. I’d rather everyone underestimate her. And I’d like for him to underestimate me—not a small challenge given our work history together.
There’s a buzzing sound and Windsor extracts a cell phone from his pocket. “Yes,” he says, holding a finger up to me. Taking a call in the middle of important enough business to leave his swanky party is just one more signal that he considers methe helpand barely worthy of the level of etiquette he would offer others of his station in life.
I watch as he goes behind his computer and types a few things in, pulls up something I can’t see, then takes a thick white note card out of his desk’s middle drawer along with a Montblanc fountain pen, but not just any Montblanc. I hate that I know this fact, but I do happen to know that this pen cost him two hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars. I vow right here and now that I will take that pretentious-as-fuck fountain pen as a trophy when I’m done.
He ends the call and looks up at me with what I’m sure is a mere mask of apology and not actual contrition. “I do apologize, but I have to deliver this to someone down at the party. I shouldn’t be long. Please, make yourself comfortable and pour yourself a drink.”
He rushes out the door. I glance over at the top shelf brandy in the decanter. But I’m not tempted. For all I know, someone tipped him off that I’d been hired to kill him, and he’s beating me to the punch. Poison is typically a woman’s method of choice, but we both know Windsor couldn’t take me in a straightforward confrontation. I pour a glass anyway and place it on the outer part of the desk near one of the guest chairs.
Then I open the door to check down the hall. He is well and truly gone. I already checked for cameras. He’s got one in the hallway just outside the door, but nothing within this room to monitor someone he’s already invited inside. I assume this lack of surveillance is also for his own protection, so he can be free to do whatever seedy bullshit he needs to do within the confines of this room without leaving a record of it.
I slip on a pair of gloves, wipe down the doorknob I just touched, and take a look at his computer.
I don’t know what I’m even looking for or what might be useful to know in this situation. I hadn’t planned to be granted entrance into his inner sanctum. It’s a rare stroke of luck, so of course, I don’t trust it. I click through a few files and look at his browser history, then I immediately close out of everything.
I take a long slow breath. My hands are shaking and hot as I rip the gloves off and stuff them back into my inner jacket pocket. What the hell is wrong with me right now? I am so off my game. Ever since that fucking kid.
I pick up the brandy off the desk and go stare out the window trying to gather myself. I’m so tempted to risk poison just to have that shot of burning fire to calm my nerves.
There aren’t a lot of things that bother me, but someone who hurts kids does. It doesn’t matter the type of abuse, it’s the fact that kids are helpless and innocent. I was helpless and innocent. Aidan is helpless and innocent. Anyone who would prey upon a child is a far worse monster than I’ll ever be, and Windsor’s computer is filled with evidence that he’s that kind of monster.
Yes, I would have let Aidan blow up in that building, but it would have been a mercy killing. Not abuse. Not trauma. Not the things that steal your life from you and leave you either a terrified hollow shell forever, or empty of all conscience.
The door opens a few minutes later. “Oh, good, you’re still here. I’m so sorry for that interruption.”
“Not a problem.” I work to conceal my rage and utter contempt for this piece of garbage. I was already going to kill him, but I didn’t have any particular feelings about it before. It was just business.
“I’m so glad you accepted my invitation tonight. I have a job for you.”
“Oh?” Of course the great and powerful Drake Windsor would never sully himself by inviting me to such a lush affair of his equals if it wasn’t because he needed me to kill someone.
“Dante Valentino. Do you know him?”
I keep my face blank of all expression. “Who doesn’t?” I say. Dante is the man who hired me to kill Windsor. I wonder if he knows that already. Maybe he suspects and wants to kill Dante before Dante kills him.
“I know it’s gauche to kill within your own circle,” he says, “which is why the contract is so high. I’ll pay you five million.”
The silence stretches between us forever. Dante only offered me two for Windsor. And if this arrogant motherfucker hadn’t left me alone in his study, I might be tempted to change the target. Before this moment I could have cared less whether it was Dante or Drake Windsor taking their last breaths under my watch.
