in every vicious, feral sense of the word, an animal with a human’s brain. He was exactly what Lancaster had promised him he’d be, the ultimate warrior, with no boundaries, no barriers, no conscience. When he succeeded in his task, Lancaster would welcome him into the fold, into the inner sanctum of his most loyal and fearsome soldiers.
And there, in the light of Lancaster’s rising sun, Monk would shine like the unholy terror he was.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“We’ll take them out the back, through the kitchen,” King said, crossing the dining room, heading for Conroy Farrel and the woman.
Going through the kitchen might cause a bit of ruckus with the staff, but it was the quickest way out and beat the hell out of maneuvering two hostages at gunpoint back through the crowded dance floor.
“Con,” he said like they were old friends, coming to a stop in front of the table where Farrel sat with the woman. He smiled warmly, cocked his head a little to one side, and relaxed his shoulders. “I remember you from school. East High, right?”
Actually, he knew everything about Conroy Farrel, from his blood type to his shoe size. He knew the day he’d been born, where he’d been baptized and where he’d been busted, where he’d graduated, when he’d enlisted, and King knew the day he’d “died.” In truth, he knew more about Conroy Farrel and where he’d come from than Conroy Farrel did. King knew he’d started out life as John Thomas Chronopolous. He knew why the SDF boys had snatched Scout Leesom, why they wanted Farrel back, and he knew, whatever he was called, exactly when the man would die for the last time—finished, smoked, ain’t no never coming back.
King gave it six more hours tops, definitely before sunrise. He and Rock would kill Farrel first, then the woman, dispose of the bodies, and they could all get back to the twisted ways of a corrupt world and doing what they were really good at: making money by helping people.
That’s the way King thought of LeedTech, the most humanitarian assholes on the planet. Humanitarian, that was, if you were the folks with the money, the firepower, and the political desire to straighten your world out, maybe have a few of your problems smoothed away.
If you needed a war, LeedTech could deliver one to your door. If you just needed some personnel shifted, LeedTech could shift them straight out of your life and into their next one. Got some enemies strutting around, threatening your ass and your assets? LeedTech would bury the limp-dicked bastards—for a price.
Needless to say, business was good. It was always good, recession proof.
“King Banner,” Farrel said, something settling in his eyes, something more than just recognition, something hard, and King figured he knew what Farrel had recalled.
He and Rock had a reputation, signed, sealed, and delivered on a deal in Paris four years ago. Some guys balked at killing a woman, but King and Rock hadn’t hesitated for a second to take the job of wringing the life out of a Liberian minister’s ex-mistress in her five-star hotel room.
“Yeah,” King said. “An old friend of yours sent us. He’s going to be damn glad to see you again. It’s been a while.”
Farrel didn’t say anything, just continued to hold his gaze, cool and calm, until Rock came to a stop close behind the woman. She’d taken off her black leather jacket and draped it over the back of her chair, and King really had to wonder if he’d ever seen a prettier pair of shoulders. Her skin looked flawless, silky creamy.
He and Rock were going to have a lot of fun with her.
“She’s not part of this,” Farrel said, his voice as calm as his gaze.
The hell she wasn’t, King thought.
“Leave her out of it, and we won’t have any problems.”
“Oh, we’re not going to have any problems,” King assured him, still smiling. “We’re just going for a ride, that’s all.”
Next to him, Rock put his hands on the woman’s shoulders, up real close to her neck, like he was giving her a friendly little massage, which King could guarantee he wasn’t. The woman’s face paled, and he saw Farrel’s gaze narrow ever so slightly.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, he thought. Weakness, pure and simple, and the reason he never got involved with a woman. They were weakness for a man, a soft spot where he could get gutted, and Farrel was looking right at it. The fashion queen was absolutely frozen in