A Hitman's Kryptonite Page 2

  “Our meeting has now gone to hell,” he murmured to himself before he looked at his boss’s lifeless body. “How the hell did this ever happen?”

  Raine’s eyes flickered to the glass window in thanks to whoever had found the balls to take out one of the gang’s top leaders; she just prayed that with him gone, she could now be free.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “What is your trouble? Mistaken identity.”

  —Wei Wu Wei

  Wyatt’s brows drew together in confusion as he pressed his right hand against the scanner and it rejected his prints. He placed his watch to his dusty pink lips, activating it.

  “Oliver, can you tell me why this door is not letting me in?” he murmured in irritation.

  “Wyatt?” the voice on the other end of the communication device exclaimed as if surprised. “Is it really you?” he questioned.

  The muscle in his jaw twitched in annoyance because he was now running late for a briefing. “Who else do you expect it to be, Oliver?” he questioned lazily, flickering his navy blue gaze to the camera over his head, knowing that the much older man would be peering at him on the other side of a monitor’s screen.

  “Stay there, I’ll be down in a second.”

  “More like ten minutes,” Wyatt grumbled under his breath as Oliver’s voice disappeared.

  Not long after, the bulletproof, one-way glass door slid open and Oliver stood there stunned for a nanosecond before his sharp brown eyes took him in.

  “When did you last shadow the president undercover?” Oliver questioned, his eyes locked on to his expression.

  “Can you just cut the crap, Oliver; we both know that that is not my forte,” he stated frankly and the older man breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Karen had faxed me over a report but I hadn’t been sure if I could believe it.”

  “Have you lost a few screws?” he questioned. “What report?”

  “Follow me,” Oliver responded vaguely and Wyatt’s jaws flexed again. He was in no mood for Oliver’s twisted games today but he followed him anyway because he knew that he had no other choice. The door closed behind him swiftly and he walked deeper into the almost too quiet open office.

  His brows drew together in a rare frown as everyone cast him weird looks while he walked towards Oliver’s office. With a press of the old man’s palm against an electronic device, his office door slid open. With brisk but stiff strides, Oliver walked around his desk and lifted a heavy manila folder before dropping it to the desk.

  “I know you were adopted…” Oliver began and Wyatt raised a dark brow in inquiry. “But do you know anything about any relative that you might have?” the older man questioned.

  “I don’t get the twenty questions game but no; apart from my adoptive family, no.”

  Instead of being relieved, his boss looked even tenser. “You might want to take a seat,” he suggested but Wyatt wasn’t fazed.

  “I’m good with standing,” Wyatt answered tactlessly before bracing himself against the wall. “What do you have to say, Oliver?” he questioned as the older man’s eyes ate at him.

  “We thought you were dead.”

  “Obviously I’m not,” he muttered as his nerves started to stretch thin.

  “We were notified by the government that you were, are dead.”

  “What the hell; how?” he asked sharply, standing at attention because if the government has assumed that then this was a whole new ballgame.

  “Because you had an identical twin,” Oliver stated flatly, trying to read his expression but he’d be waiting for a long time if he expected a reaction.

  “Just say what you have to say, Oliver, so that I can get on with my day,” he responded at the man’s pause.

  Oliver opened the folder and slid a few pictures in his direction. “Stephano Genovese, member of the Genovese crime family and deceased as of zero eight hundred this morning.”

  Wyatt took up the pictures and flicked through them, taking himself from a different angle on each but with a bullet perfectly centered between his brows.

  “How did that happen?” he queried as he returned the pictures to the oak desk.

  “The family is trying to hush it up but it looks like a hit and one from the inside if chatter on the line can be taken as truth.”

  “How deep was he in the family?” Wyatt asked, finding it strange that he even felt any curiosity towards a man whom he’d never known. He wasn’t called the emotionless one in his group for nothing. He hadn’t even flinched when his partner had been torn apart by an IED on his first overseas tour.

  “He’s the son of the second in command and proposed heir to the empire.”

  “So, why was he in South Florida?” the younger of the two questioned. “He could’ve been ruling the New York or the LA chapter.”

  “It’s a bit sketchy and something doesn’t add up but we’ll have to dig into that.”

  Wyatt made a sound as he moved again. “So, when will the system be updated so that I am not the one deceased?” he questioned.

  Oliver’s brows drew together in confusion. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

  Wyatt shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly even though inside there had briefly been a little spark but he knew that even if Stephano had been alive, they would’ve had nothing more than their similar taste of expensive suits in common. “It’s just one member taking another out; has nothing to do with me.”

  “He was your brother—”

  “My baby brother is four hundred and forty miles south of here and Duncan is somewhere on fifth avenue with his daughter, dress shopping. Stephano Genovese was just the other half of the egg that was split in two to create me,” he stated candidly and began to head to the door.

  “What about his wife and daughter?”

  Wyatt paused midstride but it was enough for Oliver to tag him.

  “Someone is trying to pin the murder on her but what’s more, she doesn’t exist.”

  Wyatt turned and swiped the pictures Oliver had conveniently slid towards him. His eyes skimmed over the weirdly angled pictures of a curvaceous, ash blonde woman. Though the qualities were poor, it was obvious that the color wasn’t originally hers and her slightly darker skin tone had much to do with it. Though it was a flawless dye job, he could tell that her original hair color was probably a medium brown. She was beautiful, that much was obvious but that was none of his business.

  His eyes took in the little girl, who was almost a carbon copy of himself, whom she smiled beautifully down on and something weird shifted in his chest, reminding him of the son he’d lost to cancer. Jerkily, he moved on, coming to the photo taken with some good night lenses.

  “It’s quite obvious that she didn’t do it; she might’ve wanted to but she didn’t. He wasn’t killed in a bed, or in the middle of the night,” he stated bluntly as he returned the pictures to the desk; he couldn’t help but to flicker his gaze over the one with her and their daughter.

  “True but it is enough for a good lawyer to say that she just did what she wanted to all along.”

  “Unless she’s eleven feet tall and able to be in two places at once then there’s no way she could’ve killed Stephano,” he responded.

  “But she could’ve paid someone to.”

  “Are you the prosecutor on the case?” he questioned his boss and the older man blinked at him.

  “Pardon me.”

  “You sure as hell are making a case for her arrest, Oliver; if you’re so sure, you better call up your contacts in Miami.”

  “Wyatt.”

  “What?” he queried.

  Oliver sighed. “Not even a little?”

  “Not my department,” he answered honestly.

  “The Genovese’s have been on our watch-list for years for fraud and embezzlement and you don’t find it weird that you have never come across your double before now?”

  “Again, not my department, Oliver—”

  “Too bad, because I need you in Miami by eighte
en hundred tonight.”

  His hand froze on the door and at this point, Wyatt wanted to settle his fist down Oliver’s shriveled throat. “Why the hell are you so obsessed?”

  “I need to know if she’s FBI or CIA.”

  “With him for three years and compromise herself enough to have a kid for him?”

  “Her cover probably got too complicated—”

  “You and I both know that that’s bull.”

  “Take Scott with you if you’re so worried—”

  “I don’t need a blasting babysitter!”

  He paused at the door as his personal cell jingled in his suit’s breast pocket.

  “Dad?” he answered calmly, wondering why his father would even call him in the middle of his shift at the hospital.

  “Oh thank God!” his father exclaimed and he paused midstride.

  “What’s wrong; is it Mom?” he questioned, already starting to head to the door.

  “No; no; it’s you!” his father exclaimed and he frowned. “The NAVY notified your mother that you were dead.”

  Wyatt swore under his breath and pressed a palm to his face. “Why would they even do that and I’m not even active anymore?” he questioned.

  “It was some men from your last unit; they wanted to pay their respects,” he murmured. “What does it matter? Why do they even think that you’re dead?” he questioned and Wyatt could imagine what a frenzy his mother must be in; the woman who’d found him and raised him.

  “It’s complicated, Dad,” he started. “Just tell Mom that I’m still breathing and I’ll explain everything when I get back—”

  “Where are you going?” he father questioned, fear in his voice for the first time.

  “Dad, I’ll be fine,” he soothed before bidding his father farewell and heading for the airport.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I’m facing?”

  — John Lennon

  Raine tucked ash blonde wisps of hair behind her ear as she cradled Gabriella and the breeze picked up. She hugged the tiny coat around her daughter a little more as the autumn breeze whipped around them, which was quite strange for Miami. Stoic men in black suits with most of their tattoos hidden stood in strategic locations around the open area. They stood like statues with their hands never far from a weapon, even though it was early evening. Many might look at them and think that they were in a relaxed stance but she knew better.

  She watched as Vince murmured something to Stephano’s father and the man flicked a look in her direction before nodding towards them. A presence shifted around her and she tore her eyes off of Stephano’s posse as they stood around his expensive casket.

  “Mrs. Genovese?”

  “Yes,” she answered softly, turning slightly to the young boy, still dressed in his school uniform.

  He held an orange manila towards her and her brows drew together.

  “What is that?” she questioned.

  The boy shrugged. “A woman paid me fifty dollars to bring it to you,” he responded.

  Raine’s eyes flashed around the grassy lot, trying to find a strange looking woman. There were too many people there for her to even decipher who it had been. She swallowed nervously as she thanked the young boy and took the envelope, unable to open it because of her sleeping daughter.

  Ignacio, Stephano’s father, watched her behind shades as the boy moved away. The wives of the various high ranking members of the family moved around their husbands and attended to the men as the time for the second service drew closer.

  ∆∆∆

  Wyatt leaned against the black Camaro that blended in with the other dozens of expensive cars scattered around the cemetery. Ignacio had pulled out all the stops for his son’s funeral; all the bigwigs were there. The breeze whipped around him and one side of his custom-fitted jacket fluttered in response. His navy eyes, hidden behind dark frames, hopped from person to person in the large crowd, assessing them.

  “Why did you send me here, Oliver?” he questioned thin air and got a howling wind as his reply.

  For two days he had watched as the family had been called and funeral arrangements had been made. The police that they had in their back pockets were the ones who had come in and taken over the crime scene. When questions arose, money and threats were quickly passed around and everything would resettle as if Stephano had merely died of a heart attack. He knew that nothing would come of it and if something did it would be via his father.

  He’d watched the widow sneak out to work as a waitress in a shoddy fast food joint, thinking that she had been careful enough. But just as he’d been able to track her every movement easily, so had Ignacio’s men and they had conferred every ounce of information to the boss.

  He watched as the second in command to the top gun spoke to a group of men as his gaze flickered over his daughter-in-law. No doubt the men had reported her random ticket purchase the day before.

  If he knew anything about not wanting to be tracked, buying random bus tickets in cash was the start of it. Then taking them in a loopty loop until they weren’t sure where your next stop was the other. But that was for immature trackers; he could easily sniff out her every move and if the boss wanted to find her, Gabriella was an easy tool.

  His disobedient eyes ate at her as the little boy approached her and he had to will himself not to move forward. He saw apprehension wash over her face as she tried to survey the crowd, pausing on him a little too long before moving on and he realized quickly that he might not be as inconspicuous as he’d thought he’d been.

  Her light brown skin drained of color ever so slightly as the little boy’s mouth moved and something in his gut clenched as she tucked the envelope under her daughter. His curiosity piqued but he had to tame it as the priest started to gather everyone for the ceremony and he hung back under a shedding oak tree.

  ∆∆∆

  Gabby fussed as the priest spoke loudly and clearly before sprinkling dirt over the casket and beckoning for her the lay the rose on it.

  She moved forward reluctantly, not wanting to have any part in Stephano, whether living or dead but she allowed her daughter to detach her chubby fingers from around the thorn-less, white rose’s stem. She watched as it freefell and crashed against the top of the casket, brushing away some of the dirt as it got itself dirty. She stepped back as the white-haired priest spoke of Stephano’s going to heaven and she almost scuffed.

  His father stepped forward to repeat the gesture before falling in line with her.

  “May I hold my grandbaby?” Ignacio questioned.

  Raine made a sound in the back of her throat as he claimed Gabriella without her answer. She muttered an inaudible prayer to the heavens that the little girl didn’t even budge because she hated her grandfather with a passion unlike any other.

  “You know what my idiot of an ex-wife did?” he questioned as he stroked the little girl’s dark waves.

  “No,” she answered softly as his brown eyes raked over her dark skin.

  “The first time that the cops thought that they’d gotten something on me, she ran off and got pregnant for some high flying lawyer. Do you know what I did?” he questioned coyly.

  “No,” she murmured as goosebumps ran up and down her arms under the light winter coat.

  “I waited until the time was just right then I gutted her in front of him and took the child. They both bled out on his kitchen floor.”

  A shock sound escaped her throat as the little food that she had managed to force down started to make its way back up.

  “I just hope that you have more sense than she did,” he murmured. “After all, Gabriella has her place in this family,” he finished as he smiled at her pleasantly and replaced her daughter in her arms as the blood drained from her face. “You have your place too,” he whispered as he placed a kiss across her lips lightly and she tried not to flinch. She knew that that kiss could’ve been a death sting or a stamp of possession and she didn’t know wh
ich one she feared more.

  Raine’s grip tightened around her daughter and the little girl shifted ever so slightly as she hugged her closer. Her heart pounded as he did a two finger salute before he started to turn away and her driver indicated that he was ready if she was.

  Did he know about her already packed cases? She wondered as she slid into the Cadillac and told him to carry her back to the house.

  She had bought her bus tickets with cash; so, did that mean that he had someone watching her?

  Her eyes flickered around through the tinted window and fell once again on the man by the black Camaro. Something about him was just so familiar but so different. Could it be him who was watching her?

  His face turned towards her as her car passed by and fear ate at her.

  ∆∆∆

  Wyatt watched from the building across the mansion as Brooke paced her new bedroom with worry lining her face. Her eyes flicked in his direction as if she knew that there was someone watching her and he shifted back ever so slightly even though he knew that his army grade night suit kept him fully hidden from anyone’s view.

  She nervously chewed on her nails as she moved back and forth jerkily as if in deep thought. He had lost sight of her for about two minutes after she had placed Gabriella in her crib and after that she had seemed like a nervous wreck. It was obvious that something had her spooked. Could she know that they were trying to pin the murder on her? He zoomed in his lens and observed as she dragged a suitcase from under the bed and his brows drew together: or was she just running for her life?

  She wiped away the tears pouring down her cheeks as she searched through a small folder that she had stashed away in the case and for the first he hated being out of the loop.

  “I’ll have to change that,” he muttered to the otherwise empty room.

  Something happened and she jerked before quickly stuffing the folder into the case and shoving it back under the door. She flashed a look in a mirror before she pulled open her door to the child’s baby sitter.