Page 94 of Until the End

Immense relief flooded Lee, a smile curling on his lips. “You don’t say. As you know, you were always my first choice.” An unparalleled, cold-blooded cutthroat. “But I’ve hired someone else to take care of the problem.” Lee always played his cards close to the chest. Never let them catch the scent of desperation like blood in the water.

“Don’t tell me you picked that incompetent Zanteon dipshit Randall Wheeler.”

Lee would rather eat a bowl of steaming shit than admit he’d made a mistake. “I heard you and Wheeler have a bit of a rivalry. Does it bother you I went with your competition?”

“You heard wrong. I have no competition,” Howe said, lightly, coolly. His confidence was a little more than impressive. “I thought you said the hole in your pipe needed to be fixed quickly. Permanently. With Wheeler, it’ll drag on. But if your faith in him is so unshakeable you’d pass up the chance to have me, then—”

“Don’t go jumping to conclusions. Unshakeable is a strong word.”

“Look, we both know you regret your decision to use Wheeler. I know you want me. Because I’ll get it done.”

Enough games. Lee did want Howe, plain and simple. What fool would pick a barracuda when he could have the finely honed killing machine of a great white? Howe was an apex predator.

Damn skippy, Lee wanted Jaws. “How much?”

“One million.”

Lee sighed and strummed his fingers on his stout thigh. Was every assassin for hire getting off on asking for a million bucks today? “That’s a bit steep, don’t you think?”

“All of it up front.”

Lee paused, cleared his throat. Every minute he spent quibbling over money that was coming from a black budget, not his personal account, was another minute Westcott had a chance to talk about Z-1984.

“Half now, half upon completion.” Lee flicked a piece of lint from the cuff of his bespoke suit. The pounding in his head subsided, the flames in his gut extinguishing. “Per the usual arrangement.”

“This isn’t usual. If this problem isn’t fixed, your entire house of cards comes tumbling down.”

That was the understatement of the century.

Lee had spent too many years stabbing people in the back, slitting throats—both proverbial and actual—and building as many bridges as he’d torched to carve out his niche. He would not abdicate his throne. No going out quietly in the night for him.

“One million wired to the same offshore account as last time,” Howe said, true to form, “and you pull Zanteon. I don’t want them getting in my way.”

“I want this contained. If there’s collateral damage, fine.” No kid, cop, or puppy dog was going to be an obstacle. Howe could stomach it. Hell, that psychopath would probably consider it entertainment. Keeping Howe on a leash with rules of engagement was safer, but Lee was willing to take the risk to ensure Westcott was silenced. Let Jaws have at it. “I want proof of death and I need a guarantee of time for completion.”

“No later than the end of the week. But I have a lead on her already.”

Lee smelled rain in the air. Big fat drops of moisture on the horizon. Maybe he was up for a juicy porterhouse and warm popovers after all. “We have a deal. One million it is.”

“Pleasure to be of service.”

33

Boston, Massachusetts

1:37 p.m. EDT

Castle was no more capable of making his reluctant attachment to Kit evaporate than he was all the water from the ocean. He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth as the helicopter approached.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to face Sanborn until tomorrow. Once he had time to come to terms with things. Castle had more affection for Sanborn than he had had for his own father. The idea of misleading him, even to protect Kit, wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t that Castle hadn’t loved his dad. As an Agency case officer, Robert Kinkade had been a good man who’d died for his country. As a patriarch, he’d been a tyrant and browbeat his family into obeying his orders. Something Castle vowed he’d never emulate.

In Sanborn, Castle found a role model he admired and in whose footsteps he was proud to follow.

The chopper landed at the coordinates Reaper had given Castle, setting down in the field in front of them. Kit reached over and grasped his hand. Her fingers were trembling.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Two minutes. I’ll help Reaper get Alistair loaded into the helicopter, turn over the hard drives, and then we’ll get on the road.”