Page 2 of The Hitman

Chapter Two

Jaxon

T here’s a chill in my office as I drum my fingers on my knee and wait for the woman I’m interviewing to arrive.

Callie Finley.

Pretty name, but what I really care about is her spotless background. With a clean record, early retirement from teaching, and the fact that she’s single with no kids, I think she’ll make a perfect nanny for my nephew, Leo.

I fucking hope so, anyway.

I love the kid, but between my abrupt guardianship and then struggling to find someone I trust to care for him, I’m losing my mind. I’ve been distracted from my job, and for both of our sakes, I need to find the asshole who put a hit on my sister and end them.

My phone vibrates with a text from my old partner, Remi. We worked together for the hitman agency, The Blackwell Syndicate.

On paper, they’re a private security and risk management firm for the ultra-wealthy. But behind closed doors, they’re contract killers for the worst of the worst, political ‘fixers,’ and high-level mercenaries.

And the name Remi’s just given me confirms my suspicions.

“Dimitri Volkov,” I grit, rattling my desk when I slam my fist against it.

Just days ago, Isabella was hospitalized following a near-fatal car accident in downtown Chicago.

Only, it wasn’t an accident.

Her car was found wrapped around a light pole at Lake Shore and Grand. But Isa hates that intersection. In fact, she’ll do anything she can to avoid it because it’s so dangerous. Which means the guy she was working for sent her off her usual route on purpose.

Why? Because he works for Volkov, and Volkov wants me dead.

I might be a retired hitman, free to walk without fear of retaliation from the Syndicate, but Dimitri’s a criminal. He doesn’t follow their code, and he’s becoming a problem the agency can’t control.

Remi said the Syndicate wants him dealt with. And now that I know he’s the one who tried to kill my sister, I’ve decided to resurface to do the honors.

Tell the Syndicate this is my last assignment. After this, I’m done. For good.

I receive a wire transfer for two million in response, and let my head fall back with a groan.

Will I ever truly be free from them?

My gut tells me no, despite having earned my freedom soul by fucking soul.

A loud crash, followed by a feminine yelp, has me on my feet in seconds. I grab my gun from the magnetic holster under my desk. Just like the others I’ve secretly stashed around the house, it’s always locked and loaded, just in case.

I race down the long hall, passing rooms I’ve hardly touched in my time here, and head straight for the main living room.

Hushed voices stop me at the edge of the hall. I glance around the room, finding no one but Leo and a woman I don’t recognize, standing in front of the indoor koi pond. I retreat to the shadows, watching them stare down at a one-of-a kind Italian vase—make that, a broken, one-of-a kind vase.

“Shit,” Leo mutters.

“Shit, indeed,” she echoes, bringing a tiny grin to his face. Something I haven’t seen since before I brought him to the penthouse.

The woman, who I assume is Miss Finley, lowers to her knees in a gray pencil skirt and simple silk blouse, which accentuates her curvy figure. Her light brown hair curtains her face as she gathers the largest pieces of glass into a pile.

“I have some glue in my room,” Leo suggests.

She sits back on her heels and dusts her hands together, but it’s her answering smile which stops me from interrupting. “That’s a great idea, but I don’t think we have the time to fix it before someone notices.”

He rubs his chin with the pensiveness of a grown man, not the eight-year-old he is. “Yeah, you’re probably right. My uncle is pretty uptight.”

I scoff silently.

I am not uptight.

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell him it was my fault,” she assures him, but he winces, not relieved in the slightest.

“He’s gonna be soo mad.”

“You’re right about that.” I discreetly tuck the gun in my belt at my back and emerge from the shadows. Their heads swivel my way as I point to the soccer ball I’ve told him countless times not to kick in the house. “Have you no respect for my things, Leo?”

“I’m sorry.” His bright blue eyes, so much like Isa’s, widen. He’s chewing the inside of his lip the way she used to when we’d get in trouble at his age too, and I lose myself to frustration. “I jumped when she walked in and?—”

I lift a hand, silencing his excuses. “Go get the broom and get this cleaned up.”

Intense silence fills the room before he mutters a dejected, “Yes, sir.”

A pair of round, green eyes blink up at me once he leaves. “You don’t have to be so harsh, you know. It was an accident.”

I arch a brow at her. “That vase was worth more than half a million dollars.”

She swipes a finger along one of the larger pieces, revealing a dark smudge at the tip. “And given the layers of dust it’s collected, you must be heartbroken.”

An inkling of guilt presses in on me. I can almost feel Isa’s hand at the back of my head, smacking me for talking to Leo like that. He’s been through hell, and I’m dragging him into a life he didn’t choose. The least I could do was not embarrass him in front of company.

“You’re right,” I say, because maybe I’m not mad at him. Maybe I’m just mad at everything else. “I don’t give a fuck about that vase, and I owe Leo an apology.”

Callie’s mouth pops open, then shuts, as if I’ve caught her off guard.

“Right. Very well then,” she says, matter of fact.

She’s still kneeling as her curious gaze travels up my body in a way I shouldn’t find attractive.

“Do you need help getting up?”

“Oh! No, thank you.” She laughs nervously before rising to her feet. After adjusting a pair of red heels as crimson as her pouty lips, she offers me her hand. “Callie Finley. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister…”

I take her hand, soft and small in my calloused one. “Jaxon Knight.”

“Ah, so you’re the mysterious J. Knight.” She gives me another once over, cheekier this time. “You don’t look like a serial killer to me. Though I suppose historically, most of them are handsome.”

“Like me, you mean?”

More nervous laughter escapes her, and the blush spreading up her neck demands my attention. “Okay, I walked right into that one.”

There’s an airiness about her, a playful spark that’s as inviting as her subtle rose scent. She smiles in a way that suggests her twenty-eight years have been spared from life’s worst heartaches.

“ Soo , I hope it’s okay that your guy downstairs let me up here.” She releases my hand to hook her thumb toward the elevator. “I told him I was perfectly capable of riding in an elevator without an escort.”

My posture sharpens.

Anyone who enters the penthouse is retina scanned, patted down, and escorted up by a guard. No excuses, no exceptions—no matter how beautiful those exceptions may be.

A lapse in security like that is cause for immediate termination, but if anything, she just helped me eliminate a threat in my own home.

“Not a problem,” I say, smiling tightly. No sense in upsetting her by announcing he’ll be replaced before she even leaves this building. “Let me show you to my office.”

Her heels tap behind me as she follows me through my wing of the penthouse.

“Wow, this place is huge.” Her neck cranes as she takes in the artwork suspended in gilded frames along the walls, the sleek black and gold marble floors, and the soft hum of recessed lighting that bathes everything in a warm glow.

“It does the job.”

Her head cocks at that, but the truth is, I don’t get attached to places very easily—or to people, for that matter. Unfortunately, as a contract killer, I’ve learned that both are expendable.

“I didn’t mean to cause a fuss with Leo earlier, or question your parenting, if that’s even what you’re doing here.

I can understand if you need to garnish my wages forever to replace the vase.

If I get the job, that is.” She pauses for a breath, and I can’t help being charmed by her flaming cheeks.

“Look, can we start over? I really don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, and I feel like I’ve already screwed this whole thing up. ”

“I’ll buy another vase, it’s not a problem.” I motion for her to enter my office, and she dutifully steps inside. “Besides, Leo can be… a lot.”

Though that’s not entirely fair. With my sister recovering from her injuries, what he really needs is a father figure. Except, I’ve never had a wife or children, and in my line of work, it’d be a grave mistake to desire either.

Callie moves to close the door behind her, but I stop her with a stern, “Leave it open.”

Brows lifting, she makes her way back to me. “You’re awfully bossy, Mr. Knight.”

I pause before sitting. My name, said in that chastising tone, both irks and humors me.

Maybe she’ll be a good fit after all…

She sits across from me, crossing her legs demurely, despite her aura of mischief. The soft scratching of her tights hits my ears, and suddenly, my collar feels too tight.

“I prefer things orderly,” I say, struggling to keep my attention off her long, tempting legs.

She looks around my mostly empty office, wrinkling her nose in playful disgust. “You don’t say?”

She has no idea who she’s talking to. I’ve snapped necks for less than a comment about my taste in décor. But oddly, I like it.

“Are you here for the job or to critique my style?”

“Both.”

My groin tightens at that cheeky little grin. I don’t recognize this version of myself, the one keeping score every time she smiles.

I gather the contract I’ve drawn up for her and slide the papers across the table between us. “We’ll see about that.”

“What do you do in this fancy office, anyway?”

“I’m a day trader.” The lie slips off my tongue effortlessly. “But I have an office downtown where I do a lot of my business, so I’ll be gone most days.”

“That’s why you need a nanny,” she says, eyeing the paperwork without picking it up.