Page 6 of Hard Bargain

Knox hesitated. “Second floor. End of the hall.”

A short nod, like that was all he needed. “We’ll be in touch.”

Knox swallowed hard. “About what?”

Amusement touched the man’s mouth, though there was no warmth in it. “You’ll find out.” He turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark like he hadn’t been there at all.

Knox stood frozen for a moment, breath finally breaking loose in a shaky exhale. He climbed the steps slowly, hands shaking as he unlocked the door.

The apartment was dim, the streetlamp outside spilling a thin band of light across the floor. His mother wasn’t on the couch; the TV sat dark and silent. No voice called his name, no anxious pacing to greet him. She must have gone to her bedroom.

Thank God.

Relief hit him so hard it was almost painful. Tonight he had nothing left for her; he barely had enough of himself left to remain standing. He didn’t have room for anything except the pounding in his head and the echo of hazel eyes that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, letting his eyes fall shut. The tremor in his hands didn’t stop. Not even close.

Beneath the fear and adrenaline, one thing settled with absolute certainty. Nothing about his life would ever be the same again. And whatever debt had just been written into his skin was going to cost him more than he could afford to lose.

Chapter 3

Dominic

Dominic sat behind the desk in his home office, a stack of reports open in front of him. It was quiet enough that he could hear the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the other room.

It was well past midnight, but there were still details that required his attention. He read a line on the page, then read it again. The numbers made sense. The routes were correct. There was nothing wrong with the report. And yet he hadn’t absorbed a single word.

That, more than anything, irritated him. His mind had always been one of his most reliable assets. If something held his attention, it was because he had decided it deserved to. Distraction wasn’t tolerated, much less something that happened without his consent.

Tonight, however, that control had slipped. Not enough to disrupt him in any visible way, but enough to register as a flaw.

The alley lingered in his mind. More specifically—the boy in the alley.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight. His fingers tapped against the armrest before going still again, the small movement the only outward sign of his irritation.

He didn’t like it when his thoughts fixated on what should have already been dismissed. The situation had been handled. The trigger had been pulled, and his men had taken care of the aftermath with their usual efficiency. It should have ended there.

It hadn’t.

The boy’s face returned to him with a persistence he found increasingly unacceptable. Knox had stepped out of the shadows when instructed. That, in itself, wasn’t remarkable. Fear made people obedient; it stripped them down to instinct and reduced them to whatever was necessary to survive the next moment.

What had followed, however, was not typical. The boy hadn’t folded the way most people did. No collapsing, no rambling apologies, no piss running down his leg. Not even a desperate attempt to explain himself out of a situation that offered no negotiation.

He had simply stood there. Just a young man holding himself upright when every instinct should have dropped him to his knees.

The memory crystallized with a disturbing clarity. The boy was tall, but not enough to match Dominic. Dark curls, a little too long, fell into his face like they hadn’t been cut in a while. The features beneath them were striking. Dominic’s gaze had lingered on his face longer than it should have: a straight nose, clean lines, a mouth too well-defined to go unnoticed. It was the kind of face that drew attention, almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of him told a different story. His build was lean and wiry, probably the result of long hours spent on his feet. The cheap gas-station jacket had seen better days, and his work boots were scuffed and worn thin with use. None of that was unusual. It was exactly what Dominic would expect from someone passing through that part of the city at that hour.

But the eyes… Dominic kept returning to those. Pale blue. Not soft or innocent, but eyes that tracked everything, even with fear sitting heavy in his throat. They had been too knowing for someone that young. A stubborn resilience lived in them—one that shouldn’t have survived watching a man get shot.

That was what unsettled him. He had seen grown men twice the boy’s age fall apart from much less than a close-range execution. Most people shook so hard they couldn’t stand, their bodies giving in to the panic without hesitation.

The boy had been afraid. Dominic had seen the pulse hammering at his throat, the tension in his jaw, the way his teeth dug into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. But he hadn’t been undone by it. There was something else beneath it: a notable strength Dominic hadn’t expected.

He lowered his gaze to his desk, his expression hardening as a single, unavoidable conclusion surfaced.

I should’ve killed him.