passenger seat and pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Whitmore--it’s nice to meet you face to face.”
We could have communicated through more discreet means but I refused to hide behind the threat of being caught. After this was all done, if the worst came to fruition, it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Thank you for taking this on.” Since my usual handler had somehow missed the fact that my long lost brother was a murderer, I pulled out all the stops to make sure the job was done right this time. “And thank you for speedy delivery.”
He shrugged nonchalantly but even in the dark I saw him blush at the compliment. “No problem. Hopefully you’ll remember me next time something or someone gets lost.”
I hoped I would never have to see his face after tonight, but I left that unsaid, reaching for the folder. “Your fee is in the trunk.”
He handed it over and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So we’re good?”
I flipped open the folder, already forgetting him. “Take care, Mr. Josephs.”
My car signaled the door was opened and I felt the thud when the trunk closed, but I was a million miles away. Apparently, Cole had contacts of his own. He was no longer Cole Sommers, but John Finnigan.
I glared at the passport. He’d shaved off his long, blond locks and erased a few years in both appearance and according to the birthdate listed.
I pondered the backstory of the new life he’d created . Newly twenty-one. A grunt that had enlisted straight out of high school with the eyes and grimace of someone that knew life was too short for bullshit .
I kept flipping through the contents of the folder, steadying my hands well enough but unable to stop the vindication that whipped back and forth in my chest. He was in Ireland, working at some pub about 4 hours from Dublin. He was pictured driving to a cottage he rented in the middle of nowhere. There were a couple of shots with him and some toothy woman with red hair and a glimmer in her eye that told me when she looked at my brother she saw happily ever after and babies.
Unfortunately, my brother would father no children because he was not long for this earth.
I gripped the steering wheel but this time it wasn’t joy that filled my veins. Thrill didn’t flood my ears, a soundtrack to the revenge movie I would turn into reality, complete with cable ties and jumper cables and an impressive set of knives. It was Leila that came rushing in. My conscience.
“I know you’re probably tempted to go all Liam Neeson on somebody, but I don’t want that. I don’t need to be avenged. I won’t get any comfort from bad things happening to either of them.”
Leila making a joke these days was so few and far between that I clutched the moment and made one of my own. “Well, when I’m caught, because you’re always caught, and by some strange twist of bad luck my lawyer doesn’t get me off, will you visit me in prison?”
All emotion was wiped from her face. It was a look I’d seen reflected back at me when I looked in the mirror. A lonely, harrowing look. A look I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
“I don’t want you to go after them, Jacob. And it’s not because of some ‘give peace a chance’ thing or because I wouldn’t recover if you went to prison.”
I almost felt relief when I saw tears fill her eyes. I knew this truth better than anyone – the ability to feel is a blessing. It’s numbness that’s the curse. To go day in, day out and feel nothing at all. It becomes far too easy to ask yourself questions like, ‘Then what’s the point of living at all?’
“I don’t want you to give into the hate for you, Jacob,” she said solemnly. “Because once you let that animal out of its cage, it’ll devour you.”
Was I making some terrible mistake? Every time Cole’s name was dropped, Leila went cold and said it wasn’t his fault. She would go no further than that and it was easy to not push her because I needed a target for
We could have communicated through more discreet means but I refused to hide behind the threat of being caught. After this was all done, if the worst came to fruition, it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Thank you for taking this on.” Since my usual handler had somehow missed the fact that my long lost brother was a murderer, I pulled out all the stops to make sure the job was done right this time. “And thank you for speedy delivery.”
He shrugged nonchalantly but even in the dark I saw him blush at the compliment. “No problem. Hopefully you’ll remember me next time something or someone gets lost.”
I hoped I would never have to see his face after tonight, but I left that unsaid, reaching for the folder. “Your fee is in the trunk.”
He handed it over and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “So we’re good?”
I flipped open the folder, already forgetting him. “Take care, Mr. Josephs.”
My car signaled the door was opened and I felt the thud when the trunk closed, but I was a million miles away. Apparently, Cole had contacts of his own. He was no longer Cole Sommers, but John Finnigan.
I glared at the passport. He’d shaved off his long, blond locks and erased a few years in both appearance and according to the birthdate listed.
I pondered the backstory of the new life he’d created . Newly twenty-one. A grunt that had enlisted straight out of high school with the eyes and grimace of someone that knew life was too short for bullshit .
I kept flipping through the contents of the folder, steadying my hands well enough but unable to stop the vindication that whipped back and forth in my chest. He was in Ireland, working at some pub about 4 hours from Dublin. He was pictured driving to a cottage he rented in the middle of nowhere. There were a couple of shots with him and some toothy woman with red hair and a glimmer in her eye that told me when she looked at my brother she saw happily ever after and babies.
Unfortunately, my brother would father no children because he was not long for this earth.
I gripped the steering wheel but this time it wasn’t joy that filled my veins. Thrill didn’t flood my ears, a soundtrack to the revenge movie I would turn into reality, complete with cable ties and jumper cables and an impressive set of knives. It was Leila that came rushing in. My conscience.
“I know you’re probably tempted to go all Liam Neeson on somebody, but I don’t want that. I don’t need to be avenged. I won’t get any comfort from bad things happening to either of them.”
Leila making a joke these days was so few and far between that I clutched the moment and made one of my own. “Well, when I’m caught, because you’re always caught, and by some strange twist of bad luck my lawyer doesn’t get me off, will you visit me in prison?”
All emotion was wiped from her face. It was a look I’d seen reflected back at me when I looked in the mirror. A lonely, harrowing look. A look I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
“I don’t want you to go after them, Jacob. And it’s not because of some ‘give peace a chance’ thing or because I wouldn’t recover if you went to prison.”
I almost felt relief when I saw tears fill her eyes. I knew this truth better than anyone – the ability to feel is a blessing. It’s numbness that’s the curse. To go day in, day out and feel nothing at all. It becomes far too easy to ask yourself questions like, ‘Then what’s the point of living at all?’
“I don’t want you to give into the hate for you, Jacob,” she said solemnly. “Because once you let that animal out of its cage, it’ll devour you.”
Was I making some terrible mistake? Every time Cole’s name was dropped, Leila went cold and said it wasn’t his fault. She would go no further than that and it was easy to not push her because I needed a target for
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