Page 18 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

Atlas

The next week is hell on Earth. Thalia began her mission for the Calaway hit a few days ago, and it’s been one fucking thing after another. She ran into another syndicate member, someone from the South branch, that hasn’t let up on her.

I didn’t want to leave Loxley alone after the grand opening. I sure as shit didn’t want to end up three states away, attempting to fix my sister’s mistakes.

“I fucking hate Detroit,” Dominic curses, slamming on his horn as yet another driver cuts him off during rush hour traffic. “Why can’t you drive? I’m gonna kill someone.”

I finally peel my eyes away from my girl as she reads on her sofa, looking at the fuming man seated beside me. “Busy,” I hold my phone up, smirking when he rolls his eyes.

“You crazy motherfucker,” he grumbles, turning into the parking garage of the four-star hotel. “She still hasn’t figured out it’s you?”

Hmm, has she?

I’ve let her have her space despite my growing urge to be near her, and she’s been surprisingly calm over the last few days. She’s partially continued her normal routine, going to the bakery before daylight, but now she leaves with the others after the shop has closed.

At least one lesson has been learned.

Addison is currently getting set up with an apartment, so she’s back in New York collecting the rest of her belongings. Loxley has been on her own, but even alone, she shows no signs that our night together has shaken her.

It’s a possibility she knows, but I doubt it. She’s piecing it all together, but I haven’t given her enough to determine.

I really thought speaking to her the other night would have set something off.

I wasn’t supposed to talk, but she looked so fucking pretty on my lap that I couldn’t help it.

I wanted her to hear just how good of a girl she was being for me, taking her punishment and giving me her release.

She wasn’t focused on my voice, either. Her fear had her focused on escaping me rather than remembering my tone.

And her fucking taste!

Fuck the desserts. I could die happy with the sweet tang of her arousal on my tongue.

Nothing prepares a man for something that exquisite. I knew it would be good, but my shitty imagination has nothing on Loxley Bennett.

I’m already feening for more, that overwhelming craving to shove my face between those pretty pink petals and have my fill is clawing at me.

“Nope,” I answer, throwing the passenger side door open as Dom cuts the car. “She will eventually, but I want her to figure it out.”

He grunts, growing tired of the conversation as he climbs out of the driver’s side. “Alright. Where do we start here?”

I follow, stretching my arms and popping my back. “Where’s the file?”

He tosses a manilla folder across the car’s roof and I take it, opening it to see the detailed information gathered on the South syndicate fucker.

A blonde with cherry-red lips and symmetrical features is pictured on top, her green eyes suggestive in the photo.

I flick it to the side, preferring only one head of red-blonde locks and big brown doe eyes.

“Jane Celeste. Five-foot-nine,” I peek at my friend, “tall bitch. She’s your type.

” His nose scrunches distastefully before I continue to prattle off her description.

“Green eyes, blonde hair, lithe build, and considered an expert in the field. She’s been working for the South branch since she was born,” I flip the pages, “blah, blah, blah. Remember her face.”

I toss the photo across the car’s top and he picks it up, his brows raising. “Not exactly my type...”

“Hope you like your women dead,” I smile. “This bitch dies tonight.”

He shrugs, “I can’t get behind necrophilia, but I’m sure she would look just fine gurgling on her own blood.”

“Let’s see if we can find out where her succubus lair is.” I throw my head toward the hotel’s doors, and he grabs his bag off the back seat before we walk to the hotel’s entrance.

I lift my phone, taking in Loxley’s curled-up form as she dozes off with her book slipping from her fingers. Fuck, that’s adorable. I kiss the screen. “Be good. I’ll see you soon, Short Stack.”

“You’re deranged.” Dom shakes his head, pushing in front of me as he greets the woman at the check-in desk.

I tuck my phone away, taking in the hotel’s lobby and subtly noting where the first-floor cameras are.

It isn’t shabby. It’s clean, the creme-colored floor sparkling under the low lights.

There’s a sitting area with deep maroon chairs positioned in front of a roaring fireplace.

The bar is empty, but a worker stands behind the counter, taking stock of what needs to be replenished.

There’s the low hum of classical music over the speakers and I hear the distant ding of an elevator.

Three cameras in the lobby. One positioned near the front desk, one next to the bar, and another pointing down the corridor that leads to the elevators.

“Third floor,” Dom says, handing me one of the key cards. We head to the elevators, the silence stretching between us as he does his own evaluation.

We step out onto our floor before turning right and I spot another two cameras. Our door is three down, and Dom scans his card before opening it.

“Fuck,” he slams his bag down after taking in the one king-sized bed.

I laugh loudly, “You gonna warm me, tonight?”

He curls his lip. “You touch me and I’m stabbing you.”

We get to work setting up our equipment and laying everything out on the bed. I load two of the pistols, shoving one into my waistband before handing the other to Dom.

He takes it before setting up the laptop Connor assigned for stakeouts. My phone rings, and I answer, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, guys!” Alana, another tech for the syndicate and Connor’s long-time girlfriend, shouts into the speaker.

“Hey, Al,” I greet. Dom calls out a quick ‘hey’ before returning to the laptop.

“I’ve already spoken to Thalia, but it looks like Ms. Jane isn’t at the hotel. I tracked her license plate to a bar near the business district. Do you want me to send a visual?”

Dom and I share a look. We told Thalia to focus on the hit while we took care of the Jane situation, but it seems my sister is having a hard time taking direct fucking orders.

I mean, I don’t blame her, because I wouldn’t listen to me either.

But this came straight from Rowan. He wanted her to lie low since the Calaway hit is high profile.

“Why did you tell Thalia?” I ask.

There’s a light hum from the other end of the call before I hear the sounds of keys tapping. “She told me to tell her where Jane was,” Alana responds, sounding distracted by whatever she’s doing.

“Fuck,” Dom’s shoulders drop as he shakes his head.

“Do you have Thalia’s location?” I ask, feeling the storm before it even breaks.

“Just sent it,” the tech responds, and my phone dings.

“Of course.” I turn the tracking beacon to my friend, letting him see just how close my sister is to Jane. “New plan,” I announce. “Get us Jane’s current location and we’ll handle this now.”

“Umm,” Alana types on her keyboard, the line silent until she finishes. “She’s leaving? I’m confused. She’s been there all day. Wait, Thalia is leaving too. She’s supposed to meet up with you guys…”

“Shit,” I curse. “Thalia has been compromised. How long until they reach the hotel?”

“Thirty-two minutes,” Alana says. “I’m sending the traffic camera feed to the laptop.”

Dom clicks open the file and we watch as Alana switches the cameras, following the two women as they traverse the city.

“What’s the plan?” My friend asks.

“Hide and seek,” I smile, my adrenaline thrumming.

He nods before standing and stashing his gun against his hip. “Can you dig into the hotel’s system and find what room Jane is staying in?”

“One second,” the tech says before a smaller window opens on the laptop.

We watch as she hacks into the hotel’s guest list, rooting through the names and running a code that deciphers false identities.

The system stops on a guest by the name of Joyce Beckett, signaling that the contact information and credit card used don’t match anyone in legal records.

“She’s staying in 203,” Alana confirms.

I hold my fist up to Dom. “On three.” He holds his up and I count. I keep my fist, showing a rock as he scissors his fingers.

“Fuck you,” he mutters.

“I’ll let you watch me kill her,” I wink.

“Did you guys really just play rock-paper-scissors to determine who kills Jane?” Alana’s amusement radiates through the phone.

“It’s effective,” I shrug. “Dom’s going to watch her from the parking garage and I’ll hide out in her room. We’re putting in our wires so you can communicate with us if there’s an unexpected variable.”

“Got it,” the tech chirps. “Good luck, guys. ”

We all sign off before I shove the wire in my ear and we leave the room.

***

Sitting in the dark of a room that smells overly floral is disgusting. Whatever fucking perfume Jane uses has singed my nose hairs, and I don’t think I’ll ever get the smell off of me.

“Leaving the garage,” Dom calls over the wire. “Thalia is ahead of Jane, but I think she knows she’s being followed. She dropped gum on the floor.”

We all have our own telltale signs for each other—a way to alert others we’re being followed. Thalia’s has always been gum. She knows we’re lurking around, hiding in wait.

“Still nothing unexpected,” Alana calls in, sounding bored.

I press on the wire, “Tell Thalia the game is hide and seek and to lose Jane.”

“On it,” the tech clicks a few buttons. “She’s rerouted to the bar. She just walked up to a man and hugged him like she’s known him all her life. Poor guy looks so lost, but Jane is redirected to her room.”

“Perfect,” I smile.

It takes only two minutes before the lock of the room whirs, and the door is pushed open. The light from the hallway illuminates me and Jane stops in the doorway.

Her yellow dress hits mid-calf, giving her a soft, vulnerable look, but I know that’s so far from the truth it’s laughable.