The Killing League - By Dani Amore Page 0,57

and Hampton could almost see the debate going on her little walnut-sized brain. She looked up at him, and he gave his favorite smile, a sort of boyish grin that said come on, let’s have some fun.

She smiled back at him, blushed a little, and looked back down at her computer.

And then, like almost every woman he’d ever interacted with in his entire life, she ultimately gave him what he wanted.

81.

Mack

Adelia arrived in the morning, after breakfast, and Mack grabbed his suitcase, took it upstairs to his bedroom.

He flung it open, and began throwing in clothes. He figured this time of year Los Angeles was not much different than Florida, just not as humid.

Mack had no choice but to go to Los Angeles. He knew with every fiber of his being Nicole was on the list of targets. Whidby wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t provide any special protection for Nicole, so Mack would do it himself.

He picked through his shirts, and imagined maybe taking Nicole out to dinner and what she would be wearing. He caught himself and felt like a fool. What the fuck? He had to get his head straight.

Reznor would not be coming with him. He was on his own. The Bureau still didn’t believe his theory, so they had no intention of dispatching personnel to follow up on his “wild” ideas. That was all Whidby.

Mack showered and shaved, then packed his toiletries. He zipped up his suitcase and carried it downstairs.

“How long are you going to be gone?” Adelia said. She stood in the kitchen, wiping down the countertops.

“Not sure, maybe a week,” he said.

“Be careful, Mack. You’ve been out of the action for awhile now.”

He smiled. “Believe me, I know.”

“Don’t worry about things back here,” Adelia said. “I’ve got it all under control.” The few times a year Mack traveled, Adelia moved into the guest apartment downstairs and stayed full-time to take care of Janice.

“Oh, I never worry about you and Janice,” Mack said.

“Good, that’s what you pay me for,” she said.

Mack set his suitcase by the back door and walked down to the pool deck where Janice sat at the small table, drawing on a sketch pad. Her head was bowed. Mack could see she was concentrating.

He walked up to her.

“Janice,” he said. She jerked upright and looked at him, eyes startled.

“What!” she said. “Oh.” She cocked her head, and seemed to recognize him.

“I’m going to go on a short trip, I should be back in a few days, okay?”

She looked out the corner of her eye at the drawing, and tried to cover it with her arm.

“Yes, okay, that is good,” she said.

“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” he said.

She shrugged her shoulders.

Mack bent down and put his arms around her and hugged her. He tried to look at her drawing, but she covered it with her arm.

Mack walked back upstairs, into his office and opened the safe that sat behind his desk. He pulled out his Glock .45 and a box of ammo. Even though he hadn’t carried it in a long time, he went to the range on a semi-regular basis. If he didn’t shoot occasionally, the gun would feel totally foreign to his hand when he needed it most. Not a good situation.

Now, he shrugged on his shoulder holster and found his carry license that still permitted him to wear his gun through the airport and onto the plane.

He slipped the gun into its holder and felt a small tremor of anticipation.

He didn’t like the feeling of being hunted.

Maybe it was time for him to become the hunter.

82.

Family Man

Brent Tucker was not too worried. Yeah, Mack was an FBI agent, but from what he’d read in the background information supplied by the Commissioner, the guy was now mostly a desk jockey. Not exactly Charles Bronson.

Besides, he was just supposed to kill the sister, not Wallace Mack.

The Commissioner had been very clear on that one.

This was probably going to be pretty easy, he thought. He killed perfectly healthy people all the time. A cripple should be even easier. At least then, the vulnerability is obvious.

Tucker knew firsthand how family could be exploited. He thought of his wife and how she would do anything for the snotty little rugrats. She was so stupid. It’s not like they were loyal to her, he thought. They lied, were lazy and just took, took, took. Yet his cow of a wife would lay down her life for every single one of them.

But