Come To Me (Owned Book 3) Read Free Page B

better.
    There were much worse things to lose in life than a fucking job.
    There was an audible pause before Dom asked, “You sure?”
    “The fuck is it to you?” There were tiers in wetwork and recon was below hitman. Dom knew that. That didn’t mean I couldn’t fucking handle it, though. The thing about wetwork is that you get into the game for two reasons: either you’re plucked from your unit like me, or you discover you like killing. Those who discovered they liked killing tended to be the ones doing it.
    Those like me, the ones plucked from their unit and sent to “special training”, did the training, did the job, but didn’t take any joy in it. Didn’t mean I didn’t know how to handle my weapon and execute a kill, just meant I wasn’t a fucking psychopath.
    Like…others I knew.
    “Well…” Dom continued. “Since Charlie got out, there’s been a gap that needs filling. Can you get down to Mexico City?” I hadn’t talked to Charlie since cashing in my favor for Vera. I’d saved his life once, and in return he would have gotten me clean out of GEM, meaning no burn, no blacklist.
    That favor was used instead on my sister’s friend Vera, who was taken by some dipshit drug dealer. I knew Charlie had completed the task as Vera had stopped by to see Grace a few weeks ago. I had my suspicions that Charlie left the game and shacked up with Vera, but couldn’t confirm it. All Grace had told me was that Vera “fell in love”. It seemed very fucking unlikely that Charlie, a known associate of The Boogiemen, would fall in love and leave the game.
    Then again, years ago I would have balked at using up my favor for someone else, much less someone I didn’t know. But if we’re talking about love and the funny fucking tricks it plays on you, I was a different man then too. Lenny changed me.
    “When do I need to be there?” I asked, clearing away thoughts of Lenny and Charlie like cobwebs. I couldn’t say I was happy for Charlie. Happiness wasn’t something you felt for others in the game. I felt nothing for him, and that was as close to joy as I would get.
    “Six hours,” Dom replied.
    “Send me the details.”
    As I was about to hang up, Dom interjected. “I have to say Vic, I’m a little surprised. Rumor had it that you were getting out of the game. Now you want a hit? Peculiar.” I pulled the phone from my head, pausing, and then hung up without a response. Dom didn’t need to know my reasoning. This hit would probably kill me. In my mind, I was already dead.

 
     
    I t looked like a clean job—well, as clean as murder can get. Some asshole was hiding out in Mexico and another asshole wanted him dead. I had twenty-four hours to complete the job or there would be a target on my back. Once given a job, you complete it or you die. Can’t have loose ends in the world.
    By the time I was done looking over everything, two hours had elapsed and it had started to rain. The prospect of going home and finding Lenny still there packing was nauseating. The prospect of going home and finding Lenny gone, along with her stuff, was nearly crippling. I figured either way I was going to end up in some kind of fucking pain, so I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home.
    While I was driving home, the urge to turn off my wipers, let the rain obscure my view, and drive off the highway until I became a ball of fire and smoke was tempting. I wondered if that was how Lenny felt. I’d never felt such overwhelming emotion before. It was pretty fucking annoying.
    In the end I kept driving until I reached our—my—apartment, shoving down emotions until they were just shades of their former selves. I thought I was safe, thought I would be okay, thought I could handle my shit at least until I reached the apartment.
    I was so fucking wrong.
    As I rode up the elevator, more goddamn memories assaulted me. Looking down at my body, drenched from the rain, I remembered when Lenny had first moved in. She’d run