Killing Fear

“I’ll tell you when you need to know. Right now we need my money.”

“It’s all taken care of.”

“Passports?”

She nodded. “They’re in a safe-deposit box along with the foreign account numbers you gave me.”

“Get the passports and account information. You have a computer, correct?”

“Yes, in the den downstairs.”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll start moving some money around and hide the trail. By the time the cops figure it out, we’ll be in South America.”

“But what if they find you down there?”

He bit back the urge to yell at her. Stupid woman. With forced calmness, he said, “Money buys a lot of freedom. I will take care of it.”

“Of course.”

“After you get the passports and account numbers, bring them to me, then I have another job for you. It’s important. I want you to deliver a letter. You can’t allow yourself to be captured on any security camera. Can you do that?”

She nodded without hesitation. “When and where?”

He stood, grinning, the anger at her earlier foolish question gone.

“Come here.”

She walked right into his arms.

He hadn’t decided whether to kill Sara or not. He had no compelling urge to slit her throat. If he killed her, it would simply be a means to an end. But he might let her live. He could read in the papers about her plight once the cops caught her aiding and abetting a convict. Might help pass the time while he traveled throughout South America, living comfortably on his wealth.

He most certainly wouldn’t take her with him, an albatross around his neck.

Theodore kissed her, hard, his hands on her breasts. He closed his eyes and pictured Robin with him. The smell of breakfast reminded him of the first time he saw Robin McKenna with William Hooper. In Hooper’s kitchen. His fist clenched, his breathing quickened.

Sara gasped beneath him, but he didn’t pay her any attention. It wasn’t Sara, it should never have been Sara here.

He pushed her onto the table, in the same position Robin had been in all those years ago. He took the role of her lover, and did exactly what William had done.

He watched from the beach, his binoculars trained on the open window. They were all over each other, their clothes only half removed but neither noticed. Robin pulled the cop down on top of her, falling back onto the table, a glass crashing to the floor.

Theodore knocked his coffee mug off the table, the ceramic shattering.

The cop went down on Robin, his mouth on her cunt, and she arched her back, her long hair spilling over the edge of the table.

Theodore lifted Sara’s dress, covering her face. He didn’t want to look at her, couldn’t look at her. It was Robin here for him, Robin who arched her back and begged him to send her over the edge.

Robin pulled him back up and guided him into her. Hard, fast, frantic. The table moved beneath them with each thrust.

Theodore guided the woman’s hands to his throbbing cock. She figured it out and pushed him in.

“Teddy!” Robin cried out.

He shook his head, looked down at the table. The dress had shifted and Robin’s face morphed into Sara’s. He closed his eyes, opened them, remembered where he was and who he was with. He withered inside.

“Oh, Teddy, I love you.” She climaxed around his limp dick.

He wanted to kill her. She’d destroyed his fantasy. He was antsy and unsatisfied.

He pushed off of her and walked to the doorway.

“Go do your job. And next time, keep your mouth shut while I fuck you.”

TWENTY

Robin went back to the gun range that afternoon. Hank was surprised, but didn’t say anything. Good. She didn’t want to have to explain. Not now.

Who else would want you dead?

Who?

She fired her entire clip into the target. One large hole filled the paper silhouette. In the chest.

“Let me show you something.”

Mario Medina came up behind her. He held his hand out for her gun, which she handed to him, grip first. He reloaded it and said, “You’re a good shot, Robin. But there’s a rule of three.”

He set up another paper target.

“See, every shot will jerk the gun up almost imperceptibly. Use the natural momentum to your advantage. Your shots are good, but you assume an unmoving target. Aim low and let the momentum of the gun work with you, keeping your eye on the target’s eyes so you know which way he’s going to move.”

He fired three shots in succession. They hit in the groin, chest, and center of the head.

“My way he’s still dead.”

Mario grunted his agreement. “But you used up all your ammo. This is a fifteen-round clip. You can guarantee five kills.”

“I only need one.”

“Point taken.” He handed her back her gun, butt first. “You left the club.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You left the club without letting me know.”

She just stared at him, her jaw tight, feeling like a child.

“If you have a death wish, that means my men are in danger. I won’t have that.”

“I don’t have a death wish. Why do you think I’m here, practicing? Why do you think I have a concealed carry permit? Why do you think I can’t sleep-” she stopped. “Why are you here?”

“Because you are being stupid, and I don’t like to protect stupid people. I’m going to keep my eye on you.”

“I hired you to keep your eye on my employees.”

“I have enough men to handle the club.”

Mario took a step closer and said in a low voice, “What I won’t tolerate is you slipping out without a word. A call to your assistant that you’re heading to the gun range is insufficient.”

She was shaking and hoped Mario couldn’t see. “Okay.”

“So we have an understanding?”

She nodded. “It was stupid of me to leave alone. I get that. I’m done here.” She emptied her weapon for the rangemaster to check. “I have work to do, anyway. I’ll follow your rules, Mario. That’s fair. But you don’t have to be with me 24/7. I’ll call when I’m leaving the loft or the club and wait for you. But I value my privacy.” I need it.

“What is your life worth?”

Robin turned away. “That’s not the point.”

Mario forced her to look at him. “Humor me. I’m discreet.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Mario grinned. “Everyone is entitled to secrets.”

“That’s not good enough, Mario.”

He looked at her, his lips pulling into a tight line. “It’ll have to be.”