the slot machines calling my attention.
If only it was a normal situation and I could spend a few hours trying my hand at the various games. Them’s the breaks when you’re tied to a CIA hitman.
We loaded into an elevator with half a dozen tourists, bound for the fourteenth floor. Six was all business and quiet as we made our way to room 14207. I still had no idea what we were doing there or who was inside.
He knocked on the door, and we waited. A few people passed by and I looked over the balcony onto the huge area, taking in the stand that sold the yard of margarita.
Oh, what I wouldn’t have done for a strawberry one.
He knocked again, and once again there was no answer.
We were in Vegas, after all. Did he expect them to stay in there waiting?
His jaw locked, the muscle bulging, accentuating his sharp jawline. Such a public place with so many cameras, and then to be stood up? Not a happy killer.
To avoid being noticed, we left, heading back through the throngs of drunk vacationers to the parking garage.
“What do we do now?” I asked as I tossed my hair up into a ponytail. It was hot out that day, even in the black of night.
Six frowned at me. “We need to touch up your hair.”
It had been two months since he bleached my strawberry-blonde-turned-brunette hair to platinum blonde. With my hair back, my roots showed that much more.
“That’s the next step?”
“No, but pulling your hair back, I see how much it’s grown out,” he said as he reached behind him.
“You probably don’t have to deal with that much, being a guy and all.”
Six’s arm snapped up, gun ready to put a bullet in someone, and I jumped. I didn’t hear or see anything, but apparently his super-duper self did.
He stepped in front of me as a man came around the corner, also holding a gun out.
“It’s been a while,” the man said.
I peeked around Six’s waist to find a man who looked to be in his early forties. He had the lines of age and graying temples of his brown hair. Overall, add in the suit, and he looked very distinguished.
“It has,” Six said in response.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for Four. You?”
The man lowered the gun, and Six followed suit.
“I’m here on a job.”
“Four?”
He shrugged. “There was no name, only a place.”
“A morgue?” I asked from behind Six, curious if my guess was right.
The man craned his neck to see me. “Stray?”
I rolled my eyes. Seriously? Were all of them assholes?
“She’s pretty tame now.”
“She’s right.”
I stepped out from behind him and resumed walking toward the car.
“Lacey.” It wasn’t a question, just a name. Almost like Six was saying stop. Hell, it wasn’t even a warning.
I turned back to them. “My pussy is only one reason I’m still alive, remember?”
Six started walking, and the killer guy followed suit. It was almost midnight, which if it were run like my lab, would be a minimal crew. Then again, it was Las Vegas, a place where the strip was open just about twenty-four-seven.
All I knew was that if there was another Cleaner, then everyone in that building was dead. Going late at night was the only way I was going to save the most people. There was no stopping them from killing the staff, so my objective was for them to kill as few as possible.
Wetwork teams were different from innocent bystanders.
Which led to the fucked-up state of my mind that I was actually helping them kill.
But that wasn’t right either.
There. Was. No. Stopping. Them.
That was what I knew as truth. There was no way for me to change their minds or divert them. All it would do was get me my bullet that much faster.
Deals with devils.
The whole situation I was in was fucked up from day one, and now I was bartering lives.
“Who is he?” I asked once we were in the car.
“Seven.”
One. Three. Five. Six. Seven. Nine.
The Sesame Street Count would not be happy with my counting skills. Only single digits had been mentioned and though I hadn’t seen him, I did know Eight was killed in Indianapolis and we were searching for Four.
“So Seven is better than you,” I said, remembering our conversation in Tennessee. His lips formed a thin line. “Is that wounded pride I see?”
“Seven is marginally better than me. Like I said, with a group like ours, there is very little that separates the top from the