Come To Me (Owned Book 3) (3 page)

Lenny’s fingers lightly caressed the metal of the door as her eyes traveled over to the porch. A lone lamp cast dusky yellow light on the stoop. She turned back, still refusing to meet my eyes. “Can you leave the apartment for a few hours?”

“What?” I turned off the car, chest tight. “Why?”

“Lissie said she’d help me get my stuff. It will be too difficult with you there…” The thing about Lenny was that she always ripped it out of me. From the beginning, she’d ripped out my emotions. Maybe that meant we fought more than most, but it also meant she was able to do what most couldn’t: she ripped out my love. But now, with only one arm on the car and the rest of her poised to leave, it meant I was an open wound, bleeding.

“How fucking long will you be gone?” I demanded. I thought back to the night, trying to think on the differences. Had anything been different? Why was this fight different than the others? Why
this
fight?

“I don’t know!” Her eyes shot to mine, dark and pain filled. It hit me then that this was for real. We’d been fighting for months. She’d been threatening to leave for months. But this, right then, was real. She was really leaving.

I should’ve fought.

I should’ve yanked her by the wrist and dragged her back inside the car.

Instead I said, “Yeah, whatever.”

I watched her ascend the stairs to Lissie and Zoe’s new house: white stucco, orange tiled roof, green lawn. It was pretty average, but then there was nothing wrong with that. I imagined it would be nice to have an average life. Wake up, make coffee, go to work, come home, and just hang out with the person you love. No murder. No subterfuge. Just…life.

Lissie answered the door and I drove away before Lenny went inside. When Lenny and I had gotten together, I’d thought her mood was a quirk. She was fiery and passionate, and that was what drew me to her. Lenny’s mind was what ensnared me. It was what captured me and kept me tied. Her mind was sexier than any lingerie. It was the wildest ride I ever took.

I didn’t realize it was a disease.

I didn’t realize it was something to understand.

It never once crossed my mind that it could end us.

We’d survived murder. We’d survived distance. Could we really not survive her own mind?

Since she’d asked me not to go home, I took a detour to the bar. In the parking lot, I stared at the nameless building where I’d begun to fall in love with Lenny. Years ago I’d followed her there, planning only to watch the vixen that had moved into my building.

Instead I’d walked up to her and danced.

I didn’t fucking dance. Ever. But Lenny did things to me.

“Fuck!” I slammed my hand on the steering wheel, overcome with a multitude of emotions that I knew if given name would drown me.

The dashboard clock glowed brightly, reminding me that in twenty-four hours it would be my birthday. Birthdays were never a good day for me. In fact, they were usually pretty shitty. I didn’t know why I thought this year would be any different. It looked like this one would mark the day Lenny’s and my fire had finally burned up.

Sighing, I reached for my phone and dialed the one number I’d promised I never would.

A
ll I needed to do was press enter. Once I hit send on the numbers I’d typed into my phone, this world would vanish. One last time I looked up at the nameless bar nestled between two inconspicuous buildings. Despite the winter darkness, it wasn’t very late, only about six in the evening. It wasn’t very busy, either, just my car and a few others in the lot. Blame Monday.

I wondered what would happen if I walked into the bar. Would the ghosts of Lenny and me be inside? Would I see her there, dressed in that flimsy top like the first time? Would she have that same thousand-yard stare? The same haunted, magnetic pull? Would we still be doomed to our fates? Destined to the same fiery dance until we burned up and out? If given the choice, would we do it again?

I knew my answer.

Looking away, I pressed send. He answered on the last ring.

“I thought you were out of the game.” I would have recognized the buttery, nasally voice anywhere. Dominic “Dom” Weathers was as infamous in the wetwork world as Hilton was in hotels.

I’d met Dom in basic. He was never cut out for military life; he couldn’t even handle training. He was a poor excuse for a soldier, much less a marine. The only reason the guy lasted was because he was able to make real connections and black mail the top tier.

It was no surprise he’d landed the position he had now.

“Just give me a fucking job,” I spat.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have any recon jobs available right now,” Dom continued. “Plus, no one will touch you. You’ve been burned by the best, my friend. And I really mean that… Fuck, you should see the kind of tits they have working there now. I’ve been trying to get this blondie sys analyst to ride my dick for the better part of the year. I can already picture her brown eyes staring up at me while she—”

“I really don’t give a shit,” I cut in. Dom was supposed to be neutral, a middleman between all operations and outfits. That meant he was supposed to keep his hands—and dick—out of shit, but Dom was always one to eject sense in favor of sex. Red flags were rising higher than a flagpole at his talk.

I should have hung up, but part of me didn’t mind the red flags because at that point, all of me didn’t care what happened.

“Just trying to make small talk,” Dom replied.

“I don’t want small talk, and I don’t want recon,” I explained. “I want a hit.” I used to think being burned was the worst thing in the world. I used to think the day jobs stopped rolling in would be my undoing. After watching Lennox enter Lissie and Zoe’s stucco house, not knowing when she would return, I knew 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 to catch the door, soaking wet. I remembered the daggers she shot me when I didn’t hold it. She’d been so feisty, calling me on my shit. She’d dropped her locket and I didn’t immediately tell her. I should have realized then what deep shit I was in. Instead of giving her her jewelry like a normal person, I’d held on to it, like some fucking school-boy pining after a memento.

Later that night I ran into her in the hall—well, more like stalked her. I’d waited until she’d returned home and then followed her. The pull I felt to her was stronger than gravity. Every sigh, every breath, I felt deep in my marrow. The shivers she made when I touched her that night felt like ripples against my skin. It should have been obvious, when I barely knew her and she affected me so, that I was doomed.

Lennox Moore was my undoing, but the devastation still felt better than any happiness I thought I knew before.

The elevator dinged open and I left the box, feeling as if I was walking through ghosts and shadows. Each step I took seemed to unleash another latent memory. When I approached the apartment, I was so consumed in memories that I almost didn’t notice my lock was undone. The door was slightly ajar, imperceptible to the untrained eye.

Cocking my head to the side, I pulled out my SIG from the holster. The day I’d quit GEM was the day I’d put a red bullseye on my back. Officially, GEM had only burned me, but I wouldn’t have put it past Alice to try something on her own. Pressing myself against the wall, I thought back to the beginning. Before Lenny, I didn’t have anything else in my life save my job. Now, staring at my unlocked door, I was pissed.

Lenny could have been inside.

It could have been her fending off some hired mercenary.

My stupidity could have killed her.

So I guess it was a good thing that our twisted, thorny bond had finally snapped. Instead of dying for my sins, she was safely asleep at Lissie and Zoe’s.

I advanced slowly, kicking the black door open a notch. The wood creaked slightly on its hinges. I peeked my head in, keeping my gun cocked, but saw no one. Still, I kept my body tight and on alert. With caution, I advanced farther.