A Dom is Forever (Masters and Mercenaries #3)(67)

“MI6? He can’t be CIA. Nelson ran the trace on him,” Molina argued.

“And there was nothing in his background that made Nelson worry. But I look at him and I think he’s dangerous.” Malcolm sat back, his eyes on the pictures. “I’ve also had the feeling I’m being followed. I can’t catch the bastard, though. I don’t like it.”

Molina sighed. Malcolm was being a worried old woman. “We’ve known since two weeks after we hired Weston that MI6 was watching. It’s not news. They’re desperate. They know they don’t have a thing on us, and time is running out. They’re just trying to justify their continued existence. They won’t find anything. I have the files and they’re in code.”

“Codes can be broken.”

“Surely they can. Especially when they look like codes.” He was getting too old to argue. “I want Donnelly dead.”

Malcolm’s eyes held his for a brief moment before he assented. “All right, but I should remind you that you had a plan concerning Avery Charles and it would be smart to follow it.”

“I don’t like the fact that she’s f*cking him.” It rankled. She was supposed to be waiting. He’d isolated her so she didn’t have any friends, and she’d still found someone to f*ck.

“She wasn’t a virgin.”

But he was sure she hadn’t had sex since her boy husband had died. She would be tight. So f*cking tight. He could tear her up. He could make her plead and still he would shove his way in. He would spread her wide and f*ck her until she bled. That would be a form of virginity. “I wasn’t asking your opinion.”

“It’s my job to make sure this deal runs smoothly, sir, and Avery Charles crying rape to Scotland Yard would be a problem. Wait until we get her safely in the Middle East, and we can deal with her. The house in Dubai is ready, and I have a phalanx of armed guards who will ensure she can’t leave. You can have your business, and you can keep her for as long as she entertains you. You’ve worked very hard, sir. Don’t screw it up now.”

“I want his head.”

“That could prove troublesome. Heads are heavy. How about I cut off his dick? So much easier to transport on the Tube.” Malcolm didn’t crack a smile.

“I don’t give a shit. I want him dead. Make it hurt.” He sighed. He really didn’t have time for this crap. “Just kill him. Don’t do it in her flat. Make it look like a random act. I don’t want her thinking this had anything to do with her. Not now.”

He would let her know later, when the time was right and she couldn’t get away. Avery was the woman he’d waited for. The one he’d sacrificed for. The one who made everything worthwhile. He’d killed plenty of bitches, but they hadn’t served his soul the way he thought Avery would.

“I can handle this for you.”

After he had the Lachlan Bates deal done, he could head to Dubai and then on to someplace even more isolated and live like a king. He would still travel, but his home base would be safe. Avery would be safe.

All he had to do was get through the next few weeks and make sure that shipment went out. Which meant he needed to find a way to get the cost of that goddamn wheat down or he needed to find a new donor because he wasn’t going to bear that cost himself.

He had to pay for too many assassinations anyway. Malcolm didn’t murder people for free, which was actually a minus against his continued employment.

“Also, here are the details of your meeting tomorrow,” Malcolm slid an envelope his way. It was plain with no writing on it, but he knew who it was from.

Eli Nelson. Another problem he had to deal with. He owed the man. But Nelson had taken his cut, and now he was back for more.

Still, he had connections. He wouldn’t have gotten the Lachlan Bates deal without him. Nelson had a real shot at helping him get into the Middle East. Africa was small potatoes compared to the Middle East. And he would dearly love to serve both sides of the inevitable Pakistani-Indian conflict. Nelson was working hard to make that little war happen.

It was worth giving him a cut. To a point.

He opened the instructions and sighed. “Do you have any idea what this shit is about?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I just take notes, boss.”

There wouldn’t be a second note, no ability to request an explanation for this very strange request. He would either follow it or he wouldn’t.

And that rankled, too. Nelson had simply given him his start, his new identity. He’d made it possible to cast off the old one like a snake shedding his skin. When he thought about his old life, it was with a sort of despairing nausea. The things he had done to please his disgusting family, to fit in, to try to show who he was. Nelson had taught him it was all right to follow his instincts, to take care of himself and let the others rot.

Oh, sometimes he missed them. Well, he missed one of them, but that life was dead. He’d eradicated it, and it couldn’t touch him now.

And perhaps Nelson had taught him all too well. Sometimes the best solution to a problem was getting rid of it all together.

After he had what he wanted.

“Of course, I’ll do as he asks. After all, he’s my mentor.” He didn’t bother to mention that he’d murdered his last mentor.

Malcolm was his liaison with Nelson. It seemed best to keep their meetings to a minimum so they weren’t connected. Malcolm had no connections. His cover was so deep Molina would be surprised if Malcolm remembered what his original name had been.