Contracts by Matt Rogers (i like reading txt) 📕

to mask your true intentions. You and Aidan Parker both.’

‘Where’s Parker?’

‘Still in Nepal.’

‘I haven’t been able to contact him.’

‘That’s because he shot himself in the head three days ago.’

‘Oh.’

King looked around. ‘Judging by our surroundings, I assume you’re not going to do the same.’

‘No, thank you,’ Randwick said. ‘I’d rather not.’

‘You’re a different level of corrupt,’ Slater said. ‘You think this is the first time your business decisions have led to innocent deaths?’

Randwick shrugged. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

‘You’re a powerful man,’ King said.

‘I guess.’

‘You seem to have it all figured out.’

‘I’d like to think so.’

‘Figure this out,’ King said, and shot him in the face.

The suppressor didn’t suppress much. A vicious cough still echoed through the empty mansion. But King and Slater barely noticed. They rose off the couch and made for the door. King tucked the gun away, and they stepped outside as if nothing had happened at all.

Slater said, ‘Three left.’

They split up and disappeared into the night.

90

Upper East Side

Manhattan

One week later…

It was their first official day back home, and they were expecting company.

They sat across from each other in King’s penthouse, resting against the backdrop of Central Park. The view was as astonishing as ever, but with a few months of ownership under their belts it was steadily becoming the norm. They were still surprised they’d been allowed to keep their twin residences, resting side by side at the apex of one of the Upper East Side’s most luxurious towers. Especially after what had happened before Nepal. One of the floor-to-ceiling window panes seemed fresher and cleaner than the others — a dramatic reminder of the private war that had played out months earlier between King, Slater, and a horde of hired mercenaries. But the damage had been repaired and the crimes swept under the table as an unsteady allegiance was formed between the U.S. government and two of the best black-ops killers to ever live.

So it irritated them to think that that allegiance might soon fall apart.

It all depended on how the following confrontation unfolded.

Neither of them expected it to go smoothly.

There was a knock at the front door. King got up, took a deep breath, and said, ‘You ready?’

Slater said, ‘As I’ll ever be.’

He went into the entranceway and answered without checking the peep hole. He knew who it was.

They hadn’t seen each other since before Nepal.

It was bound to be a shaky reunion.

As soon as he opened the door, Violetta LaFleur burst through. She was as beautiful as ever, but the intensity with which she stared at him overshadowed it all. He admired the blond hair, the piercing blue eyes, the shapely physique. Instinct took over. He loved her, and their bond had been forged through their mutually turbulent pasts and the similarity of their work. They understood each other in a way most couldn’t, and it was the only reason they were able to work together in such a demanding field and still maintain a relationship.

But right now, greeting her partner seemed to be the last thing on her mind.

Her eyes flared with anger. ‘What the fuck have you two been up to?’

He stood over her, unsure how to proceed. ‘I’d say it’s good to see you, but I’m afraid you’ll shoot me…’

‘Where’s Will?’ she snapped.

‘He’s here.’

Slater’s voice floated through the penthouse. ‘Hey, Violetta.’

She stormed down the entranceway, and said, ‘Follow me.’

King followed.

Didn’t say a word.

She strode into the open-plan living area and pointed to a vacant chair. ‘Sit.’

King sat.

She said, ‘You two are in deep shit.’

‘Are we?’ Slater said, raising his eyebrows. ‘I wonder why…’

Ever the daredevil.

King just crossed his hands over his lap.

Waited for Violetta to speak.

She paced back and forth in front of them, running both hands through her hair, on the verge of tearing it out. ‘Do you realise the sorts of favours I’m having to call in just to keep the hounds at bay?’

‘Who are the hounds?’ King said.

‘Everyone above me,’ she said. ‘You both know the drill. I’m your only point of contact behind the scenes. It creates deniability — if you’re taken on enemy soil, you know nothing about the inner workings of clandestine operations. You don’t know what goes on behind the scenes, or who’s involved, or how it’s structured. But that might all be about to change if those in charge call you in.’

‘Why would they call us in?’ Slater said, feigning innocence.

‘You know why.’

‘Break it down for us. Just in case there’s been a huge misunderstanding.’

Violetta rolled her eyes, but she obliged. ‘As soon as you told us exactly what went down in Nepal, we started our own investigation. We put all our resources behind it. Didn’t take us long to figure out exactly who was connected to Aidan Parker through shell companies. And guess what?’

‘What?’

‘We traced it to four separate individuals. All incredibly powerful people. Three men, and one woman. All in their fifties and sixties, all moguls, all guilty as sin of practically every crime under the sun. What they did in Nepal was one thing, but we have a lot of investigative horsepower, and when we put the spotlight on their business dealings we uncovered a treasure trove of seriously shady shit.’

King shrugged. ‘They sound like scum.’

She stared daggers at him. ‘Why are they all dead?’

‘What?’ Slater said, widening his eyes. ‘You think we—?’

He wasn’t even trying to make a respectable performance of it.

In fact, he was making a mockery of the whole thing.

She nearly hit him. ‘You realise I could put you both in a military prison right now and throw away the key?’

‘But you won’t,’ Slater said.

‘Will…’ King warned.

He turned. ‘What? You want to go with her — be my guest. But I’m not going to sit here and listen to this.’

‘You’d better watch your mouth,’ Violetta said.

Up until that point, Slater had been lounging against the seat back, keeping his voice low. Now he sat up ramrod straight and stared at her with withering intensity.

‘Listen,’ he said, much louder. ‘You can storm