Page 83 of The Hitman's Prince

Re-holstering my gun, I paused, taking a breath. I was hard, my cock hot and throbbing against the inside of my thigh, and there was no denying how I missed the rush of murder. Before Vince took over, when I was beholden to his father and no other man—except those he deemed worthy—murder was an active part of my life, my job responsibilities. I’d done more than tolerated it. I’d enjoyed it. I’dthrivedon it. The rush from drawing someone’s final breath was the greatest high I’d ever known.

I was certain there was some connection between my fetish for killing people and my fetish for being choked to the brink of death during sex, but I was still at a very active crime scene and didn’t want to unpack that yet. At least, not until Vince was found and safe.

I’d also have to tell him about the night he found me. He deserved to know the truth.

I snapped photos of all the files that felt like they could be relevant to Vince in the future, then I took a picture of Vanessa dead on the floor for good measure. I sent it to Jacob because I didn’t have Caspian’s phone number. He didn’t reply right away, but fifteen minutes later when I was already miles away from the scene of the crime.

JACOB

That was very sweet of you.

I glared at my phone, wishing he could see my face.

I’ll be home shortly.

We aren’t there.

What do you mean?

Caspian is with my cousin. I’m looking for my father.

He’ll kill you.

Doubt it.

It was careless for Gideon and Fletcher to have believed their half-measures were enough, and it was shortsighted for Vince to think the same. There were men far more powerful than the three of them, names and titles notwithstanding, who would not be so readily agreeable to changing the way the gears had turned for generations. The order had worked, the expectations were predictable, and three deaths wouldn’t be enough to force the change they were so desperately after.

Vanessa was proof of that, Caspian’s father, the Moore and the Mandeville families, and God knew how many more would have not immediately fallen in line to a new way of doing things. Vince was lucky that most of his father’s men were so put off by the brazen way Vince had taken out the old man that they’d given him a wide berth to see what he’d do next. I’d heard the rumors and the rumblings and thankfully, for the most part, they’d been content to sit back and let it unfold. It was always easier to let the trash take itself out, was how the saying went.

My assassination of the woman who orchestratedninety-nine percent of the hits for every family worth their name in salt would not be viewed as a small indiscretion. Vanessa’s blood on my hands—and Vince’s by association—would be the reminder our side of the families needed to know who was in charge to stay. The Moores, though…Phillip was a frantic man grasping at straws, and the priest was about to walk right into his trap.

If I could track his phone and shove him back into his little priest hidey hole, I would. The church was far from sacred to men like us, but secret enough. The only people who knew the man living in the apartment wasn’t a priest were the men who’d put him there and the men who’d found him there…

No.

The warm plastic of my cell phone slipped against my sweaty palm, and I remembered I’d been in the middle of a conversation with Jacob.

I don’t trust your father.

He was quick to reply.

JACOB

Neither do I, but this has to end. I need you safe.

That’s my line.

We can argue about it later. Have you found Vince?

He’s next on my list.

Then why are you texting me?

I was going to hurt him far more than was friendly once I got him back home. I hoped Vince would forgive me. I hoped Vince would take it out on me. I hoped Vince would be there.

Send me locations so I know where to look for you

Look for me at home when this is all finished.