Page 73 of The Hitman's Prince

Vince exhaled slowly, his cheeks puffing as he released the breath. “I don’t think it’s wrong. If there ever comes a time when…when something happens to Orion…or even you or Jake…I would want it to be me.”

He swallowed hard and went still, attention flickering toward the door where Jacob stood, mostly dry from his shower and naked save for a pair of tight boxer briefs.

“Where’s Orion?” Vince asked.

“Taking longer,” he said, climbing into the bed and sandwiching me between his body and Vince’s.

I curled further into myself and closed my eyes.

“I’d want it to be you too,” Jacob said, folding his arms together behind his head and settling against the pillows. There was room on his other side for Orion, once he finally made the decision to join us. The exchange of water between us in the bathroom had felt like as much of a truce as the two of us would ever have, and I needed to be okay with that as much as I needed to be okay with the idea of shooting Vince again…but this time in public…in broad daylight.

“I would too, but I want there to be another way,” I whispered.

After that, the silence between us wasn’t comfortable, the air growing thicker once Orion appeared in the doorway. He was drier than Jacob, except for the hair on his head, and wore a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low enough on his hips for me to see a patch of coarse curls peeking up above the drawstring. I would have let him fuck me if he wanted to, I thought, trying not to stare too long and ruin the peace between us.

He studied the three of us tucked together in the bed before walking around to the side where Vince sat and sinking down to his knees. Vince made a pleased sound and turned to face him fully, carding his fingers through Orion’s damp hair and whispering things that neither Jacob nor I would ever be meant to hear. Whatever he said, Orion made no argument or protest until the end when he muttered up a quiet, “Yes, Sir.”

Then he was on his feet and around the other side of the bed, sliding on top of the covers to Jacob’s right and the silence was back again.

At some point in the night, the four of us fell asleep.

I woke up cold, with Jacob wrapped around Orion like an octopus and Vince’s pillow to my left, untouched. I murmured his name, reaching out and patting my hand along the sheets to search out his body, only to be met with more absence. Behind me, Jacob let out a low snore and tucked himself closer to Orion, so I carefully climbed out of bed and went in search of Vince.

I checked his office first, finding it empty. The fireplace was dark, the lights off, the mess of papers and ledgers on his desk still there. The silence of the townhouse was stifling, and I wished I was more prepared like Vince would have been, or Orion, with a gun or something to protect myself. The one I had was in a drawer in the guest room, completely incapable of serving a purpose with me on my way to the main floor without it.

To be safe, I checked the bathrooms, even though all the lights were off and there was no reason Vince would be hiding in a bathroom in the dark while the three of us were asleep in his bed upstairs. I finally made it to the kitchen, where I found a half-drank cup of coffee on the counter, the white porcelain closer to room temperature than piping hot. Wherever Vince was, he’d abandoned his coffee well over an hour ago.

I glanced next at the windows, the ones that had been so recently replaced after the attack that had left Orion’s hand injured and my leg grazed, finding them whole and intact, the lights of the street reflecting up off the dark glass panes. Vince wasn’t in the kitchen, he wasn’t in the living room, he wasn’t anywhere.

The front door hung open, not damaged like it had been kicked in, but fully on the hinges like the lock had been picked or Vince had opened it on his own. There was a white rag on the floor, and beside it a small pool of blood, big enough for me to see my face in when I looked down. A bloody handprint painted the doorframe…like someone had grabbed it to stop from being pulled down the steps. My hands shook violently as I forced myself to look further down the street. A trail of blood to the sidewalk, and I was scared to follow it for fear I’d be the one to find Vince’s body lifeless on the curb.

What I found, though, was much worse.

Vince wasn’t there.

Chapter 55

Orion

It wasn’t the warmth of Jacob’s body pressed against my back that woke me up, it was the sound of pounding footsteps coming up the stairs. It took less than a second for the urgency of it to register. I threw Jacob off of me and reached under the bed, feeling around until I found the handgun I knew Vince had strapped beneath the mattress. I had a round in the chamber and the weapon pointed at the doorway when Caspian’s frantic face filled my sight. Something like relief filled my chest, but after seeing the look on his face, it left as soon as it had manifested.

“Vince is gone,” he said, and I raised the weapon, aiming right between his eyes.

This wasn’t what we’d talked about. This wasn’t what we’d planned.

The premise was half-baked at best, but whatever action Caspian took against Vince was not meant to trulyend his life, just to give the impression of it to anyone who needed to know.

“No. No!” He covered his face with his hands like they’d be enough to stop the bullet from obliterating his cheekbone. “I mean he’sgone. I didn’t do anything. I woke up and he’s just gone.”

Jacob scrambled out of bed, shoulder knocking into mine as he stood up and stared down Caspian in the doorway.

“What do you mean, he’sgone?”

“I woke up and he wasn’t in bed. There’s a cold coffee on the counter and there’s bloo—there’s blood. The front door was open and there’s blood.”

I was out of the room before he’d finished muttering and stammering about blood, Jacob close on my heels, though he stopped to wrap Caspian in his arms before following after me. I checked the office, checked the kitchen, found the coffee Caspian had mentioned, then skittered to a stop when I reached the front door.

A crumpled white cloth, which I didn’t need to smell to know it would reek of the familiar sweetness of chloroform. A pool of blood that spread as I watched it, a bloody handprint on the doorjamb, and not much else. I found Vince’s cellphone on the porch, screen shattered as if he’d had it in his hand before being grabbed.