Prologue
J ail disgusted him . The smells. The dirt. The guard who wore contempt as if it were a weapon. He’d like to kill that guard, but he couldn’t. It would be bad for business.
He entered the visitor’s section of the jail and felt a sense of revulsion. His lip curled when the guard pointed at the hard plastic chair in its own booth. A length of gaudy red garland hung around the viewing window. The color reminded him of arterial blood. He loathed this time of year.
He tugged at the sleeves of his Armani suit, but it didn’t need it. The quality of the cut assured that it would sit well. He always dressed his best when meeting a client. He loved the fact that with his horn-rimmed glasses and briefcase, the guards always mistook him for a lawyer.
The Plexiglas windows separating the visitors from the inmates had smudges and handprints on them. He sat in the chair and sniffed when he picked up the phone. He was not putting that germ-ridden thing next to his ear.
Besides the brief stint in juvie, he’d never been in jail. He’d never been caught, and not one of his killings had been connected to each other or to him.
That’s why he was the best.
The door on the other side of the glass opened. An older man walked in, his orange suit clean and his black hair combed neatly. The gray at his temples gave him what women referred to as a distinguished look. Maybe he should put a little silver in his own hair.
Maybe it would make him look more trustworthy.
The man sat down and frowned. “I don’t know any Arthur Grenville.”
“Good day, Mr. Rusakov. Grenville is one of the names I use with my clients. In most circles, I’m known as the Huntsman.”
“You’re British.”
Grenville didn’t say anything to the man’s obvious statement.
Rusakov leaned back. “Excellent. Did Sergei give you the file on the bitch?”
Crude. But he was the client. “Yes. I can see why you’d like her dead. Both you and your son are serving time in prison because of her.”
Rusakov scowled. “If you have the file, why are you here?”
“Because I like to meet all of my clients in person. I need to know how far they want me to go.”
Rusakov’s eyes narrowed. “I believe the file was specific. Are you looking for more money?”
“No, Mr. Rusakov. That would be unprofessional.” He pushed up his glasses and leaned forward. “There are, shall we say, three packages you may choose from, with the price you’ve paid.”
“And they are?”
“I specialize in terror and torture, as well as death. It just depends on how far you would like me to go.”
Rusakov smiled. “I hired you because you’re the best. We took that bitch, Danika, in when she was a girl and she turned on us. Calls herself Danielle now. My son’s in prison because of her. Make her suffer. I want the full package.”
Grenville bowed his head. “As you wish. Danielle will receive your Christmas present.”
Chapter 1
D anielle Everett stretched under the duvet, her limbs languid with sensual heat. “Can I say,” she said to the sexy dark-haired man next to her, “I think you’re getting better at that?”
Jake Harrison, her best friend, her partner, and her lover, arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have to say it, you just screamed it a minute ago.”
She swatted his arm, but only half-heartedly. He did speak the truth.
“I like this B and B,” she said. “Do we have to go to your family’s house?” She rolled over and tucked her head on his shoulder. Her hand wandered over his sculpted chest with a mind of its own. “We could just stay here and…enjoy ourselves. We only have three days off before you have to be back for the mission prep.”
Both of them worked at E.D.G.E. Security, an international agency that specialized in covert operations. They didn’t have much downtime together, and the thought of wasting any of it made Dani cranky.
Jake captured her hand and kissed her fingertips. The heat in his eyes stirred things
J ail disgusted him . The smells. The dirt. The guard who wore contempt as if it were a weapon. He’d like to kill that guard, but he couldn’t. It would be bad for business.
He entered the visitor’s section of the jail and felt a sense of revulsion. His lip curled when the guard pointed at the hard plastic chair in its own booth. A length of gaudy red garland hung around the viewing window. The color reminded him of arterial blood. He loathed this time of year.
He tugged at the sleeves of his Armani suit, but it didn’t need it. The quality of the cut assured that it would sit well. He always dressed his best when meeting a client. He loved the fact that with his horn-rimmed glasses and briefcase, the guards always mistook him for a lawyer.
The Plexiglas windows separating the visitors from the inmates had smudges and handprints on them. He sat in the chair and sniffed when he picked up the phone. He was not putting that germ-ridden thing next to his ear.
Besides the brief stint in juvie, he’d never been in jail. He’d never been caught, and not one of his killings had been connected to each other or to him.
That’s why he was the best.
The door on the other side of the glass opened. An older man walked in, his orange suit clean and his black hair combed neatly. The gray at his temples gave him what women referred to as a distinguished look. Maybe he should put a little silver in his own hair.
Maybe it would make him look more trustworthy.
The man sat down and frowned. “I don’t know any Arthur Grenville.”
“Good day, Mr. Rusakov. Grenville is one of the names I use with my clients. In most circles, I’m known as the Huntsman.”
“You’re British.”
Grenville didn’t say anything to the man’s obvious statement.
Rusakov leaned back. “Excellent. Did Sergei give you the file on the bitch?”
Crude. But he was the client. “Yes. I can see why you’d like her dead. Both you and your son are serving time in prison because of her.”
Rusakov scowled. “If you have the file, why are you here?”
“Because I like to meet all of my clients in person. I need to know how far they want me to go.”
Rusakov’s eyes narrowed. “I believe the file was specific. Are you looking for more money?”
“No, Mr. Rusakov. That would be unprofessional.” He pushed up his glasses and leaned forward. “There are, shall we say, three packages you may choose from, with the price you’ve paid.”
“And they are?”
“I specialize in terror and torture, as well as death. It just depends on how far you would like me to go.”
Rusakov smiled. “I hired you because you’re the best. We took that bitch, Danika, in when she was a girl and she turned on us. Calls herself Danielle now. My son’s in prison because of her. Make her suffer. I want the full package.”
Grenville bowed his head. “As you wish. Danielle will receive your Christmas present.”
Chapter 1
D anielle Everett stretched under the duvet, her limbs languid with sensual heat. “Can I say,” she said to the sexy dark-haired man next to her, “I think you’re getting better at that?”
Jake Harrison, her best friend, her partner, and her lover, arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have to say it, you just screamed it a minute ago.”
She swatted his arm, but only half-heartedly. He did speak the truth.
“I like this B and B,” she said. “Do we have to go to your family’s house?” She rolled over and tucked her head on his shoulder. Her hand wandered over his sculpted chest with a mind of its own. “We could just stay here and…enjoy ourselves. We only have three days off before you have to be back for the mission prep.”
Both of them worked at E.D.G.E. Security, an international agency that specialized in covert operations. They didn’t have much downtime together, and the thought of wasting any of it made Dani cranky.
Jake captured her hand and kissed her fingertips. The heat in his eyes stirred things
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