“I didn’t lie to you, Lilah. The Blood Assassins are as provable as UFOs.”
“Is there any known attachment to the Society?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out since your attack. And that brings me to Romano and what I couldn’t tell you before you knew about the Society: that lead came from him directly. He was working for the Society—Pocher, he believes, though he’s not a hundred percent sure. The communications were guarded. They started pressing him, taking over his operation. He pushed back.”
“And?”
“And one of his men came head-to-head with a Blood Assassin. Romano’s man cornered him in an attempt to make him talk. The assassin killed himself. A day later, that Romano was dead. And that Romano was the nephew of the old man.”
“Holy fuck,” I breathe out.
“Yes. Holy fuck. Shortly after, that anonymous tip came his way, and he needed to distance himself from it until the heat was off.”
“So he gave it to me.”
“Yes.”
“Did he leave the clue at the beheading?”
“I asked him that and he said no, which means whoever gave him the tip must have given it to you.”
“It has to be someone who really wants the Society taken down if they came to us both.”
“I would agree. And if you need more to prove how low the Society will go, it’s unconfirmed, but the old man believes they killed his men to cause a turf war between his people and mine, to distract us both.”
“I don’t know if I buy that,” I say. “I believe it was the Society, but I believe it was about Woods and making the murders go away. About pushing me out to allow that to happen.”
“A two-for-one, perhaps,” he suggests.
“Obviously, the Virgin Mary is attached to the Society: the tattoos. The necklace in Suthers’s suit, and I was just at your rental property and found a Virgin Mary necklace on Cynthia’s lampshade. What do you know about that connection? Because there is one.”
“Until now, there wasn’t one, or I would have already connected the Blood Assassins to the Society long ago, but yes, I agree. There is a connection, but it seems too careless to be approved by the leadership. I don’t believe the upper-level management would allow themselves a method of identification.”
Kane’s cell phone rings, and he pulls it from his pocket, frowning slightly before he answers the call. “Mendez,” he says. There is a pause and he says, “When?” Another pause and, “Where?”
He says nothing else before hanging up.
“You wanted Ghost. You’re about to get him. He’s ready to meet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It’s finally time to meet Ghost. Maybe, just maybe, that means I will catch myself an assassin. And maybe, just maybe, that means I can take down Pocher. “He actually agreed to meet us?”
“With conditions,” Kane says.
“What conditions?”
“He’s not the guy you’re looking for, but he’s willing to provide information. But you cannot arrest him or kill him.”
“Are you one hundred percent certain he’s not our guy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Ghost doesn’t deny his work. He’s too proud of it.”
“When?” I ask.
“Now,” he says.
“Where?”
“Agree to the terms, Lilah,” Kane presses.
“I’m going to want to kill him more than I want to arrest him,” I admit, because I can with Kane. And because it’s true.
“We don’t always get what we want. Agree or this ends now.”
“This time,” I bite out.
“Say it.”
“Jesus, Kane, you are being a prick. I won’t kill him unless he’s trying to kill one or both of us, and I won’t arrest him.” And just to be clear, I repeat, “This time.”
He studies me for two beats and then says, “There’s a chopper waiting for us at the airport, as long as we’re there in the next forty-five minutes. Otherwise it leaves without us.”
“And you think getting on a chopper that Ghost provides for us is safe?”
“Ghost and I share a mutual respect, but we won’t get on that chopper unarmed.”
“You and an assassin have mutual respect?”
“Your enemy’s enemies are your friends, Lilah. There is the Society and the rest of us, and I make damn sure to align myself with people who can be useful if needed.”
“And you’re not going to apologize for that, right?”
“No, Lilah, I won’t. And if you’d stop judging me, we’d both be a hell of a lot happier. Because we both know every time you judge me, you’re judging yourself and us.”
He stands up and heads for the door. I stand up and call after him. “My badge judges us, Kane.”
He turns around and faces me. “You know how to fix that.”
“So it has to be me getting rid of my badge, not you getting rid of the cartel?”
“Start counting bodies. Eventually you’ll decide you can’t live by the rules of that badge. Until then, and after that, I’ll be here. But don’t wait too long, because the Society will still be here, too.” He exits the room.
I follow him, intent on replying, but he’s already on the phone, and it’s clear he’s talking to one of his men and instructing them to follow us when we leave. And now isn’t the time to debate right and wrong, anyway. Right now is about staying alive and catching a killer. Maybe that’s his point, though. That’s what this is always about.
He enters the bedroom, with me on his heels, both of us crossing through it to enter the massive closet that is lined with his clothes, with a table and chair in the center. He reaches under the table and hits the button I know from experience is there. The mirrored back wall immediately parts, displaying a separate room.
He walks inside it, and again, I follow him to a room equally as large and lined with weapons, many of which I am certain are illegal. And yet I’ve always known they were here. I’ve always accepted they exist. He grabs a shoulder holster and buckles it into place before inserting a Glock. I’m about to reach for an ankle holster when he hands me a knife already attached to an ankle strap. “I believe you know how to use this,
” he says.
“Bastard,” I say, accepting it.
“It’s time to stop hiding from it.”
“I’m going to walk away before I punch you.” I turn and head for the door.
“It’s okay to have enjoyed it, Lilah.”
Stunned that he knows what I didn’t think even he knew, I stop walking and grip the doorframe as he adds, “He deserved it.”
I turn to face him, and I don’t even try to deny the truth. “I know. I know he deserved it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Have you ever enjoyed killing someone?”
“Yes. Because they deserved it. And you know how much guilt I feel over any of those kills? None. And do you know what I feel when I think of you shoving that knife into that man’s chest? Regret because it was over so fast.”
I stand there for several beats, absorbing those words, trying to justify my crime with another crime. The very thing I’ve just sat in another room and judged him for. I inhale and turn away from him, walking toward the bedroom, but my gaze catches on the wall of clothing to my right. My clothing that I had left here, that he’s kept here. I set the knife on the table, and my gun, badge, and phone follow before I yank off my boots, then pull off the damn sweet pink blouse that feels as fake as my badge right now. I toss it to the floor and quickly change into a black T-shirt and jeans, both of which will fade into darkness if needed. I slip my small hip purse back in place, the inclusion of money, ID, and credit cards one of necessity. I’ve just attached the blade and holster and pulled on a pair of low-heeled boots when my cell phone rings.
I stand up and glance at the number to find Lucas calling. I answer on speaker and set it on the table. “Lucas,” I say, opening a drawer under the table, and sure enough, my backup shoulder holster is still here.
“I finished the program,” he says.
“And?” I prod, shrugging into the holster, glancing up to find Kane standing in the archway dividing the closet from the weapons room, listening in on the conversation.
“I came up with the hits you predicted,” Lucas says. “You and Beth were on multiple cases, but there was also a lab tech with a double hit. He was on the Laney Suthers case and the recent New York City murder.”