It was the perfect spot. Unless the scent from Vincent’s cigar brought them some well-intentioned guest looking to share a smoke.
He’d just have to make this quick.
An excited flutter ran through him as the final pieces of his plan fell neatly into place. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this kind of anticipation—since he’d felt anything.
He slid onto the bench next to Vincent. “Did you do as I asked?”
Vincent drew from his cigar, taking his time before allowing a stream of smoke to spill from his lips.
“I did.” A smirk curled his lips. “You were right. There’s definitely something going on between Samantha Quinn and Caleb Martin. The slightest mention of threat to her and he was ready to rip my throat out.”
“He cares for her.” The knowledge, now confirmed, strengthened his resolve.
Investigating the glowing tip of his cigar, Vincent nodded. “Quite a lot, I’d say. She’s skittish, but the feelings appear to be mutual.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, satisfied his instincts had served him well.
“Caleb Martin is a formidable opponent. You’d better know what you’re doing.” Vincent puffed on the cigar, his cheeks hollowing with each draw. “This cat and mouse you play … you’re putting us all at risk. Don’t forget who holds the purse strings here. I’ve funded your little endeavor because of my wife, and to what end?”
Mark bristled at the man’s arrogance. As if Vincent had done him a favor. As if Vincent ever did anything out of the goodness of his heart.
They weren’t so different, he and Vinny-boy. They were both killers, masters of their trades.
Vincent was a ruthless businessman who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He’d fuck another man’s wife, his daughter—occasionally at the same time if the photos Mark had seen were accurate—to ensure cooperation from high level officials. If that didn’t work, he’d call on his old neighborhood chums to join in the fun. Oh yeah, Vinnie had some very interesting friends back in New York.
He’d bankrupt a man, take his business, his home, his life—without so much as a blink. While Vincent may not know the feel of a man’s blood on his hands, his heart was as cold and black as Mark’s.
“The end remains the same,” Mark informed him calmly.
“You should know, I plan to collect my wife and leave the country. I have business interests overseas to tend to and Carly needs a change of scenery. I expect you to honor our arrangement.”
Carly. Vincent’s pet name for Carlotta made her sound like a child. In many ways, she was. Her broken mind and spirit had turned her into a shell of the woman she’d once been. A lifetime of misery and pain could do that to a person.
Even as a child, she’d been too soft for this world. In another place, another time, Mark would’ve tried to protect her. Back before she’d forgotten him, left him to suffer.
“Don’t worry, Vincent. You won’t see me again. You have my word.”
“Regardless, my patience is at an end,” Vincent huffed. “This game you play has grown tiresome. Be done with it.”
For once, Mark was in complete agreement.
“You’re the boss.”
He adjusted his black leather gloves and reached for the customized hunting knife secured at his belt. The gloves prevented him from experiencing the texture of the handle, but he’d had enough experience with such a weapon to know the amount of force he’d need to get the job done.
Mark stood, the feel of the knife in his palm a comfort. He walked behind the bench and clapped a hand on Vincent’s shoulder.
“You really should be more careful about protecting your back.”
Vincent craned his neck around to look at him. Mark moved with silent speed as he clamped a hand over Vincent’s mouth and swung his arm in a wide arc, plunging the knife deep into Vincent’s chest.
Vincent’s eyes widened a moment before impact and his struggle lasted only a moment. Mark held firm as blood seeped through Vincent’s stark white dress shirt, its crimson warmth spreading across the material with slow precision.
Mark watched the life in Vincent’s eyes vanish. Quite the same as Carlotta’s had, just a few hours ago. Only where Vincent’s gaze held betrayal and shock, Carlotta’s had been soft and quiet. She’d accepted her fate with the same grace with which she’d lived her miserable life.
“I never did understand what my sister saw in you.” Mark placed his lips against Vincent’s ear. “Game over, motherfucker.”
Chapter 16
“Everything okay?” Opening the door, Caleb stepped aside to let her go first.