guy have one last good hump.
Professional courtesy from one potent male to another.
“There’s paying well...then there’s paying exceptionally well ,” his client said.
Munk sucked in a quiet breath. He never broke a sweat over a kill—that was sport. He fed on the adrenaline rush of the hunt, but money—big money—made him hard faster than a Shanghai whore.
Grinning, he spoke softly. “How soon do you need me?”
“Now would be ideal, but tomorrow is sufficient.”
“Who’s going down?” Munk started mentally calculating what he’d need for the trip.
“This is different.”
“How so?” He liked clean kills, nothing fancy.
“I’ll give you the details when you arrive.”
“And it pays exceptionally well?”
“Yes.”
“So what do you want? Information extraction?” He had creative ways to reach a captive’s physical and emotional limits that were almost as satisfying as killing.
Not quite, but almost.
Considering this client, Munk had an inkling of the target’s identity. His lips curled up. A fat wad of money to inflict pain on a man Munk would dismember for kicks.
It didn’t get any better than this.
His client interrupted his fantasy. “No. More like terror. I want her rattled until I get what I need. I have specific plans.”
“Her? How old?” Munk wanted to make sure he’d heard correctly, but male, female, child—he didn’t care as long as the jack came stacked high.
“ Her . Twenty-six. Can you be here by eight tomorrow morning, ready to work?”
Munk checked his Glashutte wristwatch, admiring the new timepiece that had set him back twenty thousand—chump change. With a little luck he could make the last flight out of Gatwick.
“I’ll be there. No killing, huh?” Munk asked, a little disappointed.
Silence filled the line for a few seconds before his client answered. “I didn’t say that, but I have a specific timeline for this itinerary. I’ll call you at eight eastern time.”
Munk slipped the phone back into his pocket and checked the target. The mistress twisted in her lover’s arms, allowing a clear view of the man’s face, contorted as he neared ecstasy.
Slowing his breath to reptilian, Munk centered the crosshairs on his target’s right eye.
Too bad, Romeo. Time to go .
CHAPTER 9
Ryder should have mastered patience after sitting in a tiny cell day in and day out, wondering if that was all he’d do for the rest of his life.
He definitely should have gained extraordinary tolerance from the two times he’d been in the Hole. But he evidently hadn’t, because he’d come damned close to screwing this mission when he’d been forced to act pleased to be offered a job at Van Dyke Enterprises.
That came from having spent his youth under Hubrecht’s grinding thumb. Ryder had never wanted to return.
I spend five months locked away like an animal and Hubrecht acts as if it were nothing. Cold-blooded bastard.
Had the Van Dyke patriarch framed Ryder for murder?
Ryder would never have thought so back when he’d first gone into the Army. At one time, Ryder had credited his extreme discipline to the time he’d spent working with Hubrecht.
Back when he’d had time away from this place to consider all the things Hubrecht had done for him, the bastard child of Hubrecht’s dead sister.
Now Ryder wasn’t so sure of anyone any more.
“Ryder.”
He blinked at the sound of Bianca’s voice breaking through the haze that blanketed him. Immediately sweeping a look around them, he realized he’d been frowning as he walked through the top floor of Van Dyke Tower. Not a wise move with security cameras everywhere.
Cutting his eyes over at Bianca, he felt like an ogre when she managed to keep a pleasant expression on her face as they headed to the elevators. “What?”
She whispered out the side of her mouth. “I’m going to have a bruise if you don’t let up, dar -lin’.”
His fingers were gripping her upper arm. Damn. He
Professional courtesy from one potent male to another.
“There’s paying well...then there’s paying exceptionally well ,” his client said.
Munk sucked in a quiet breath. He never broke a sweat over a kill—that was sport. He fed on the adrenaline rush of the hunt, but money—big money—made him hard faster than a Shanghai whore.
Grinning, he spoke softly. “How soon do you need me?”
“Now would be ideal, but tomorrow is sufficient.”
“Who’s going down?” Munk started mentally calculating what he’d need for the trip.
“This is different.”
“How so?” He liked clean kills, nothing fancy.
“I’ll give you the details when you arrive.”
“And it pays exceptionally well?”
“Yes.”
“So what do you want? Information extraction?” He had creative ways to reach a captive’s physical and emotional limits that were almost as satisfying as killing.
Not quite, but almost.
Considering this client, Munk had an inkling of the target’s identity. His lips curled up. A fat wad of money to inflict pain on a man Munk would dismember for kicks.
It didn’t get any better than this.
His client interrupted his fantasy. “No. More like terror. I want her rattled until I get what I need. I have specific plans.”
“Her? How old?” Munk wanted to make sure he’d heard correctly, but male, female, child—he didn’t care as long as the jack came stacked high.
“ Her . Twenty-six. Can you be here by eight tomorrow morning, ready to work?”
Munk checked his Glashutte wristwatch, admiring the new timepiece that had set him back twenty thousand—chump change. With a little luck he could make the last flight out of Gatwick.
“I’ll be there. No killing, huh?” Munk asked, a little disappointed.
Silence filled the line for a few seconds before his client answered. “I didn’t say that, but I have a specific timeline for this itinerary. I’ll call you at eight eastern time.”
Munk slipped the phone back into his pocket and checked the target. The mistress twisted in her lover’s arms, allowing a clear view of the man’s face, contorted as he neared ecstasy.
Slowing his breath to reptilian, Munk centered the crosshairs on his target’s right eye.
Too bad, Romeo. Time to go .
CHAPTER 9
Ryder should have mastered patience after sitting in a tiny cell day in and day out, wondering if that was all he’d do for the rest of his life.
He definitely should have gained extraordinary tolerance from the two times he’d been in the Hole. But he evidently hadn’t, because he’d come damned close to screwing this mission when he’d been forced to act pleased to be offered a job at Van Dyke Enterprises.
That came from having spent his youth under Hubrecht’s grinding thumb. Ryder had never wanted to return.
I spend five months locked away like an animal and Hubrecht acts as if it were nothing. Cold-blooded bastard.
Had the Van Dyke patriarch framed Ryder for murder?
Ryder would never have thought so back when he’d first gone into the Army. At one time, Ryder had credited his extreme discipline to the time he’d spent working with Hubrecht.
Back when he’d had time away from this place to consider all the things Hubrecht had done for him, the bastard child of Hubrecht’s dead sister.
Now Ryder wasn’t so sure of anyone any more.
“Ryder.”
He blinked at the sound of Bianca’s voice breaking through the haze that blanketed him. Immediately sweeping a look around them, he realized he’d been frowning as he walked through the top floor of Van Dyke Tower. Not a wise move with security cameras everywhere.
Cutting his eyes over at Bianca, he felt like an ogre when she managed to keep a pleasant expression on her face as they headed to the elevators. “What?”
She whispered out the side of her mouth. “I’m going to have a bruise if you don’t let up, dar -lin’.”
His fingers were gripping her upper arm. Damn. He
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