The Hitman Who Loved Me Page 7

  Jamie gagged. “God no. I had enough last night.”

  “I thought so. Get dressed and meet me at noon. This has to be said in person.” He hung up before Jamie could respond. She put the cordless back on the charger and nearly laughed out loud with excitement. Maybe this was it. Maybe he had a job prospect that could get her out of this mess.

  As Jamie walked to her dresser, feeling relieved that something positive might finally happen, the apartment door burst open and slammed against the wall. She spun around and screamed as two burly men stormed inside her apartment. The one holding the baseball bat went straight to her television and smashed it to pieces. The other man rushed her, pinned her against the wall by her throat, and said through clenched teeth, “That will be your legs in two days if you don’t give Jones his money by then.”

  She had no words, no breath as he released her throat and backed away.

  On the way out the door, the man with the baseball bat busted the drywall on both sides of the hallway. Every hit made her body jerk. As their bulky frames disappeared out the door and down the steps as fast as they broke in, Jamie slunk down the wall and burst into wretched sobs.

  How could she pay Jones in two days and pay her landlord as well? Maybe she should pack a bag and disappear with the cash she had, start fresh in a new town where nobody knew her. But Jones would find her. He had a long arm, and every shady character in this country knew him well.

  She hugged her knees and lowered her forehead to her lap, wishing something good could come her way.

  A creak in the floor made her look up. Mrs. Watson, the elderly lady from next door, stood in the middle of the room looking at the damage, her eyes wide. “What happened here?”

  Jamie took a deep breath, dried her eyes, and pushed up to her feet. “Nothing you need to worry about. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  Mrs. Watson glanced at her now, her expression full of concern. “Should I call the police?”

  “No. No. Please don’t,” Jamie begged. “I’ll have this fixed. I promise. It was just a misunderstanding with a friend. No need to worry about it.”

  Mrs. Watson clucked her tongue. “I think you need to change your friends.” She took one last look through the room, turned around, and headed back out the door, mumbling under her breath, “Damn young people are gonna give me a heart attack….”

  Jamie went to the door. Even though the frame was cracked and splinters of wood lay scattered across the floor, she was still able to close it. That was a small comfort at least, even though she knew they could burst back in anytime they wanted.

  She quickly dressed, her mind racing on how she could get out of this mess that was veering out of control. If she had a choice, she would’ve stayed at Sharp Ridge and never came back.

  Right at noon, Jamie walked into the coffee shop around the corner. Monty stood and smiled, but his expression hardened as his intent gaze took in her defeated expression. As she approached the table, she knew her eyes were swollen and red from crying. She tried her best to hide it but she couldn’t be strong any more—not after her visit less than an hour before.

  Monty came around the table and wrapped her up in his arms, rubbing her hair as she sobbed against his chest.

  “This is it, Monty. I’m really fucked. Jones’s boys busted into my place right after you called me.”

  Monty let out a hard sigh. “I thought you quit hanging with him.”

  “I did!” She wiped her eyes on his T-shirt. “I’ve been clean for eight months. But I”—she stepped back and pulled out a chair from the table—“I borrowed large and I was ripped off.”

  He glared at her as he took his seat opposite hers. “Big mistake. Especially with Jones. How long did he give you to pay up?”

  “Two days.”

  “How much?”

  “Twenty-five hundred. That’s more than what I earned so far this summer, and I owe my landlord money, too.”

  His eyebrows lifted high as he shook his head in disbelief. “That’s no small amount. He’s broken legs for a lot less.”

  “I’m an idiot. I could give Jones what I have—even though there’s still more—but then I’d still owe the landlord. I don’t know what to do!” And even if Monty offered to take her in, he already had a roommate in tight quarters. She had nowhere else to go, aside from the women’s shelter, and she had too much pride for that. There had to be something she could do. Anything that didn’t involve selling herself on the street.

  “I’ve been calling you a twit for a reason.” Monty waved a waitress over and ordered espressos for both of them. “How about a slice of pie? It’s lemon. Isn’t that your favorite?”

  Bless his heart for remembering her sweet tooth. Jamie wanted to kiss him and slap him for being so generous. Must be nice to have money to spend even after getting laid off. Maybe she should ask Monty to buy her a pack of smokes. She sucked her last one back in under a minute on the way here. “Sure. Thanks.”

  When the waitress left to fill their order, Monty stared at Jamie for a long minute. “If I had the money, I’d give it to you. But as it is I’m hard up as well.”

  Jamie lowered her gaze to the table top. “I know.” Having only known her for five years his generosity choked her up, even if he wasn’t able to help. The offer alone made him a good friend in her books, and she would do the same for him without hesitation if their roles were reversed.

  “But I brought you here because I have a proposition. When was the last time you had a vacation?”

  Jamie blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. “Uh, I went camping at Algonquin Park a couple of years ago. Why?”

  He tipped his head back and released a throaty laugh. “That isn’t a vacation.”

  Jamie sighed. His comment made her feel really low. “I like the bush.”

  “I know, but I mean a real vacation. Somewhere tropical. A place with white sand beaches and music in the night. Sexy cabana boys to serve you.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Jamie couldn’t imagine ever being lucky enough to get that. The waitress arrived with their order and Jamie almost groaned aloud over her first bite of the pie. “This is awesome.” Almost as good as an orgasm. A vision of that Jack guy flashed through her mind. She almost blushed at the memory of how his hard body felt against hers. Too much time had passed since she’d felt the warmth of a man.

  Monty took a sip of his espresso, watching Jamie carefully. He had yet to touch his pie. “Let’s get down to it, then. I got through to an old friend who needs someone to go to Cuba—”

  “Cuba?” Her hand holding the fork stilled over the pie. “Are you serious? For what?”

  Monty’s expression remained the same—determined. “Agree to go and I’ll give you the details.”

  Jamie set her fork down and regarded him seriously. “Look, Cuba sounds awesome but I’m about to get evicted from my apartment, have my legs and possibly my face broken, and I’m way behind on bills. Taking off on a trip isn’t happening. Not now, and maybe not ever.”

  Monty leaned closer, still undeterred. “All expenses will be paid, and you’ll even get paid to go.”

  Get paid to go on a free vacation? Jamie frowned. This sounded too good to be true. “What’s the catch?”

  Monty shook his head quickly. “Nothing. Just go to Havana and meet up with my friend’s contact who lives there.” This time Monty couldn’t seem to look Jamie straight in the eye, and that worried her more than anything.

  “Meet with your friend’s contact? This is beginning to sound like a drug deal and you want me to be a mule or something. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to jail for a free vacation, Monty. That side of my life was over a long time ago.”

  Monty sat forward and shook his head hard. “No drugs involved, I promise. I’d go myself but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my new job starts on Friday, and it’s at a classy new restaurant. This is a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity for me.” He averted his attention to the view outside. Jamie gave him a sharp, speculative glance as Monty struggled to say more. It seemed as if he was afraid of something. “The date of the trip can’t be changed, and she paid a lot of money for this to happen. She put her trust in me, and I trust you.” He shrugged. “Works for me.”

  Jamie eyed him suspiciously. “Who is she?”

  He chuckled, at himself it seemed, then glanced out the window. “We met on a job a long time ago. Tough girl. Smart. Beautiful….”

  Jamie suspected there had been more to them than a job. “So why aren’t you with her since you’re obviously still infatuated?”

  Monty blew out a sharp breath. “She fell in love with somebody else. Somebody with a lot more money and connections.”

  The hardened tone of his voice made Jamie even more suspicious of this mission. “Then why are you talking to her now?”

  Monty stared directly at Jamie, his jaw tight, shoulders stiff. “Because I owe her a favor, and I want to help you. I called her up to see if she had any jobs. I would’ve taken it and gave you the money.”

  Jamie sighed hard. Her throat felt tight. Why couldn’t she love this man more than a friend? She wanted to be happy, and she wanted Monty to be happy. Still, it didn’t make sense to go on a trip in someone else’s place, all for a package. “Why can’t she just change the date or ship the package?”

  “Because she can’t go and the package can’t be shipped. Look, I know this might seem strange”—he leaned forward and placed his hand over Jamie’s forearm—“but I trust you. And since you’re going through a difficult time, I thought you might enjoy this trip, and you need the money pretty badly. And I can’t tell you who she is—she wants to remain anonymous.”

  Jamie stared down at his hand on her arm before she looked back up and tried to read Monty’s expression. His big blues were full of hope and trust, and it almost made her cave in then and there. Almost. This whole thing didn’t seem right. But she was desperate. What else could she possibly do aside from selling her body to get out of debt? “What’s in the package?”

  Monty sat back in his seat, his eyes glinting with an emotion Jamie couldn’t read. “I don’t know, to be honest. What I do know is that it revolves around some organization or whatever, and it’s very important.”

  Jamie leaned back and blew out a frustrated breath. She wasn’t sure where to go with this. On one hand, she could be smart and just say no. On the other, the prospect of a free trip and earning some money could be exactly what she needed. “If I get arrested, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

  Monty chuckled, not at all put off by her words. “Even if you did have to return with something—which you won’t—private jets and private airstrips don’t question anyone about anything. You could bring a dead body back home with you and no one would lift a brow.”

  She thought hard for a moment but couldn’t come up with a smart remark. “This just sounds weird. So I go to Cuba to deliver a package. Just like that? That’s it?”

  Monty shrugged. “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean sort of? You better explain to me what the hell is going on here. You’re putting me at risk, you know.” She sucked in a deep, calming breath. “I may be desperate, Monty, but I’m not stupid.”

  “I know.” Monty sighed and leaned forward, elbows on table. “You’ll be going there with a package in exchange for another. Like a trade, really. Once you have it, you’ll meet up with her contact and deliver it. That’s it.”

  “So I won’t be returning with anything? Just delivering one package in exchange for another, and handing that off, too?”

  “Exactly.”

  That didn’t sound too painful, but she still had a sinking suspicion that drugs were involved. She stared down at the table as fear and desperation warred in her mind. A long time ago she promised herself never to get caught up in that again. “You know what’s in the package, don’t you?”

  “I swear I don’t.” Monty stood and set a piece of paper on the table that listed a phone number. “When you make your decision, call this number. Whatever you decide, don’t share this number with anyone.”

  As Monty walked past the table, Jamie grabbed his forearm, halting him. “You said I’d get paid to go on a vacation. How much are we talking about?”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  “Dollars?” Holy shit. Jamie blinked hard. “That’s a lot of money on top of a free vacation.” She thought hard for a second. This could be very good, or totally against everything I promised never to do again. “If I agree to go, would I get the money before or after the trip?”

  He grinned as if he knew she would say yes. “Half before, the other half when the final exchange is done. Sounds fair, right?”

  Jamie nodded and released his arm. Monty leaned closer and added, “You don’t have to do this, Jamie. But if you do, within a week all of your worries will be over. Just think about it.”

  As her only friend walked away and pushed the door to the coffee shop open, he said over his shoulder, “You have twenty-four hours to decide,” and walked out the door.

  Later that night Jamie paced her apartment. As crazy as Monty’s offer sounded, she couldn’t help but think about it all night. That much money would get her out of debt, even though she knew there was something shifty about it. She could pay her landlord and Jones with the first payment and still be laughing. She could rest easy knowing she had some money while still finding a job—with a roof over her head and food in her stomach.

  What do I have to lose by doing this? “Possibly my pride, my freedom, or even my life,” she said aloud.

  She stared at the only picture hanging in her apartment—a view of the bay at Sharp Ridge Lodge. What would Cuba be like compared to the lodge? Like night and day, she imagined. A deep tissue massage versus hard work. Having someone else take care of her versus cleaning someone else’s bathroom. A walk on a soft, sandy beach rather than a rocky shoreline. A sexy cabana boy to serve her drinks instead of making them herself. Huh. The idea was sounding slightly better every minute.

  But what if this was some sick joke by a woman she didn’t even know? Monty may trust this person, but how could she? Obviously this anonymous woman had money. Jamie, on the other hand, had two days to pay a dangerous debt, and fourteen days until she was homeless.

  Monty would never steer me in the wrong direction.

  She was utterly hopeless if she didn’t take this job. But she had until noon tomorrow to make up her mind. On impulse, Jamie grabbed her fall coat from the hallway closet and took off for a long walk to clear her head.

  It was just past midnight as she crested the hill that overlooked the waterfront, a few blocks from her apartment building. Five cargo ships were lined up in the bay, as still and soundless as a painting over the placid water. The view was incredible from here. The lights from the boats twinkled over the water connecting to the lights from the shipping lanes at shore. They all waited to be docked come morning and filled with the grains from the terminals.

  Some might think of this industrial view as ugly, but Jamie thought it was beautiful—especially at night when all was quiet, when no traffic or people or seagulls disturbed the scene. The darkness of night always held a certain appeal to her since she was a kid. During the darker moments of her life, she would close her eyes and imagine something good. Nighttime had the same appeal. She could be anyone at night. Anyone she wanted to be.

  When Jamie finally returned home, she picked up the phone and dialed the number despite the crude hour.

  A sleepy, feminine voice answered. “Yes?”

  “This is Jamie, Monty’s friend. I thought about the offer.”

  “And?”

  She took a deep breath. “When do I leave?”

  Chapter 4

  Sam rolled up the sleeves of his navy blue Guayabera shirt and leaned over the balcony on the rooftop terrace. It was midmorning in Old Havana and a
lready over thirty degrees. Once again he was shipped off to a beautiful place that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy, not in the true sense, all because some greedy woman was blackmailing them for ten-million bucks.

  He wanted all of this to be over. Sure, he’d take a contract here and there to pay the bills, but anything to do with the McCoys should no longer involve business of an illegal nature. Terry made sure of that. He stepped off the podium and gave his blessing to Antonio Montesano to do whatever he desired. They were done. The McCoy Empire was nothing but a memory, and a crazy one at that. Now that Terry had sold the family estate at Saanich Inlet, he was now considering moving out of the hotel penthouse in Victoria and buying into the suburban life. It would be better for the children.

  Sam thought his brother was really becoming a sap. He couldn’t imagine a woman being able to do that; turning him into a wimpy excuse of a man. Gabe, on the other hand, still remained the same. Sam knew the change in lifestyle would be harder for him, because Gabe was more like Sam with a take-it-or-leave-it mentality.

  He wiped the sweat from his brow and withdrew the tin cigarette case from the lower pocket of his shirt. As he flipped open the case and pulled out a cigarette, he remembered buying the silver trinket at a shop in Switzerland four years past, on a job that nearly killed him. All because a little boy walked out onto the wrong street at the wrong time. He jumped in front and took a bullet for that boy. He didn’t regret his decision for one second, even though his target had gotten away and killed another. That boy meant life to him in that split second, and he’d take life over death any day of the year.

  As he inhaled the pungent smoke, reminiscing of his life spent in the grip of danger, he went over the recent information Terry had given him before Sam left Victoria. A transaction was to be made the day after tomorrow at exactly 5 p.m. In exchange for the money, the woman would hand over all physical proof she had about the McCoys and their business dealings. Hundreds of photographs. Tape recordings. Video surveillance. They were all in deep without a leg to stand on. Even their friends in the police department couldn’t help them now. Not when some of them were included with this shady deal. Hell, even a few judges were in deep.