Page 51

FIFTY

SARAH MORGAN

TEN HOURS EARLIER

The gun pressed into my abdomen isn’t as deadly as the gun I have pressed to the side of Alejandro’s head. But if he pulled the trigger, I’d most likely die a slow and painful death, while his would be quick, instantaneous. His brain would shut off before it even had time to send signals to the body, letting it know it was in pain.

“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “Now, tell me who the fuck you really are.”

His eyes go wide as they flick to his gun, then in the direction where he knows mine is. Finally, he meets my gaze and sees the grave look on my face—it’s a warning: If he makes any movement, I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger. He’s lucky I haven’t already. I could have done it as soon as I answered the door, but I didn’t. I wanted him to make the first move... or at least think he was making the first move. The moment I laid eyes on Alejandro, seated in my conference room, waiting for me to welcome him into the program, I knew he wasn’t who he said he was.

“How’d you know?” he asks.

“Bob’s never recommended a candidate for the program, not once, and I knew it wasn’t because he had some soft spot for you.” I narrow my eyes. “And that bullshit background check he compiled didn’t check out either, so tell me who you really are.” I press the muzzle against the side of his head with a little more force.

He winces and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple rocking up and down. I can practically see his brain churning, trying to decide whether he should answer the question or attempt to get the upper hand on me.

“I won’t ask you again,” I say calmly.

“He hired me to kill you.”

“Seriously?” I scoff, disappointed that it wasn’t something more clever than him just not wanting to get his hands dirty. “He’s such a pussy.”

The corner of Alejandro’s mouth perks up. He must think the same of my husband. He stays still, waiting for my next move; his hands are calm, unshaking, like this isn’t the first time he’s been in this position. His gun is still pointed at my abdomen. My gun remains firmly pressed against his temple.

I’m surprised how far Bob was willing to take this. I really didn’t think he had it in him. Well, clearly he didn’t—because he couldn’t do it himself. But I wonder what pushed him over the edge... or had he planned this from the very beginning, the moment I told him I was divorcing him? Was his coup de grace always me being buried in the ground somewhere as he rode off into the sunset with our daughter’s hand reluctantly in his?

“When did he hire you?” I ask.

It takes Alejandro a moment to respond, like he’s trying to make sure he answers correctly. One wrong move, one lie, and he won’t have the chance to answer any more of my questions.

“A few weeks ago.”

Called it. He went on the offensive as soon as he knew we were over, but why all the groveling and begging for me to take him back then?

“I was originally hired just to keep an eye on you though,” he adds.

“What changed?”

“I don’t know exactly. He texted me yesterday, asking to meet this morning. That’s when he told me the new arrangement. Said something about having other plans, and how they’d work much better if you were dead.”

“What ‘other plans’?”

“He didn’t say.”

I search his eyes, looking for a twitch, something to tell me he’s lying. But there’s nothing. He’s stoic as he stares back at me, his gaze never faltering.

“How long have you and my husband known each other?”

“A long time.”

“And has he ever used your services before?”

Alejandro lets out the smallest sigh and says, “Yes.”

I remember it was Bob who suggested we hire someone to kill Kelly, but I was against it—because if you want something done right, you do it yourself. He clearly didn’t learn anything from me.

“It didn’t go as planned though,” Alejandro adds. I think he’s just offering up information, stalling in hopes that I won’t pull the trigger.

“I guess you’re oh for two on that.” I smirk. “If you fucked up the first time, I’m surprised he’d hire you again.”

“Bob never knew how badly it went sideways.”

“What do you mean?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’ll tell you if you stop pointing that gun at my head.”

I respond to his request by driving the muzzle a little deeper into his temple, making him wince. “You’re not in a bargaining position. So, you’ll tell me, and then maybe, I’ll let you live.”

Beads of sweat start to form at his hairline. His eyes bounce again from the gun he’s holding against my naked body to my face and then to his peripheral view, where my pistol hasn’t moved. My pointer finger rests on the trigger with the smallest amount of pressure. A milligram more of added weight would cause the firing pin to strike and the bullet to surge through the barrel, plunging right into his brain. He’d be dead before he even had time to blink. My wall would get a new coat of red paint. And he knows that...

“Nearly fifteen years ago, Bob hired me to kill a woman named Jenna Way.”

“Well, I know you didn’t kill her,” I say.

“How?”

“Because I did, twelve years ago, in this very room.”

Alejandro’s eyes go wide. Maybe it’s shock or the realization that I’m more deadly than he is. Then they flicker with something else... passion, lust, desire. If I weren’t already undressed, he’d be undressing me with those eyes right now.

“Don’t act so surprised,” I say.

“I’m not. I’m impressed.”

“Bob clearly knew you failed at taking out Jenna, so what is it that he doesn’t know?”

“He’ll kill me if he finds out.”

“No, he won’t. That’s why he hires you.” I narrow my eyes. “But I will kill you if you don’t start talking.”

Alejandro sighs heavily, realizing he doesn’t have a choice. “I had breached Jenna’s house, and I was waiting for her to return home like she did at the same time every night. But she didn’t, not that night. She’d apparently gotten a flat tire, which set her back forty-five minutes. Instead, her husband arrived home first—Greg, Bob’s brother, earlier than usual too. Thinking it was Jenna, I pulled the trigger the second the front door opened, but the gun jammed. Greg heard it, and he came flying at me. He had seen my face, so I knew what I had to do. He fought hard, but I fought harder. I got the upper hand and plunged a kitchen knife right into his gut. I was going to make it look like a break-in gone wrong but decided I could stage it as a crime of passion instead, so I stabbed him over and over, and then I left the knife in his chest. I wiped down the handle, cleaned up evidence that anyone else had been there, and took off just as Jenna arrived home. He was taking his final breaths, still coughing on his own blood when I slipped out of there. Lucky for me, she panicked and pulled the knife from his chest, thinking she was helping him. But really, she accelerated his death and added evidence that would point to her as the murderer.”

I burst out in a manic laugh. “So, Bob killed his own brother?” I can barely get the question out because I find it far too comical.

“In a way, yeah. I told him I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to kill Jenna. So, when he found out his brother was dead, he thought she did it. Plus, all the evidence pointed to her.”

“But why’d he hire you to kill her in the first place?”

“Something about Jenna finding out what kind of shady shit he was up to. She threatened to tell the authorities if Bob didn’t fess up himself. Apparently, whatever she knew, it was enough to land him in prison, so Bob figured the only way to stop her from talking was to make sure she could never speak again,” he says.

I shake my head. “That’s pathetic.”

“It is.” Alejandro nods.

“Out of curiosity, how much did Bob offer to pay you to kill me?”

“Two hundred and fifty K.”

“I’ll pay you the same not to kill me.”

He raises a brow, staring into my eyes, determining whether I’m serious or not. He doesn’t really have a choice either way. He goes along with me, or he doesn’t go along at all. I’m sure he’s wondering why I’d offer him any money to begin with. I could just kill him for free. But that’s a far bigger mess than I want to deal with. Plus... my eyes skim over his chiseled body; he’s probably 220 pounds of solid muscle. And I don’t feel like spending my whole night trying to get rid of it.

Alejandro removes the gun from my abdomen and flips it around, extending it to me, handle first. “Deal.”

“Wise choice. But I’ll need a few other things from you as well.”

“Whatever you want,” he says with a small smile. “And by the way, Bob had me put a tracker on your car. He’s been following your every move for weeks.”

It’s an olive branch, Alejandro’s way of showing that his loyalty has instantly shifted.

“I already know.” I smile back as I pull the gun from his temple. It leaves behind a nasty red bruise, the imprint of the muzzle marked on his skin.

We lock eyes, an intensity burning between us. I wrap my hand around his head and jerk him toward me. Our lips and teeth smash against one another as I slide on top of his body, taking the length of him inside of me. This time, I’m going to fuck him.