Heart of a Killer Read online

  “A woman as beautiful as you are shouldn’t be drinking alone. May I join you?”

  Brooklyn dragged her eyes away from the view. Her gaze came to rest on a short, sweaty man in a too-tight suit and an off-kilter tie. Though the night was relatively young, he had obviously already had one too many. His cheeks were dotted with color, making him look like one of the rag dolls Brooklyn had once possessed when she was younger.

  “I’m fine on my own. Thanks.”

  The man moved closer instead of walking away. “Are you waiting for someone? If you are, I can keep you company until he arrives. If you aren’t, lucky me.”

  Brooklyn hated persistent suitors. Some people simply couldn’t understand the concept that no matter how politely it was worded, a refusal was still a refusal.

  “You have to kiss someone at midnight,” the man said with a smile even oilier than his product-drenched locks. “It might as well be me.”

  He pulled out the chair across from her. Before he could take a seat, a woman sporting an expensive haircut and an even more expensive designer suit placed a hand on his arm.

  “I think the lady would like to be alone tonight. Why don’t you take the hint and leave her that way?”

  The woman’s tone was measured, but her voice commanded attention. So did the rest of her. She was tall and broad-shouldered. Her fitted dress shirt hugged her trim form. And, God, was she gorgeous. She looked like a freaking matinee idol. Not one of the slew of interchangeable celebrities that currently dotted the entertainment landscape. More like a timeless classic from yesteryear.

  Intrigued, Brooklyn waited to see how the scene taking place before her would play out. She hoped her unwanted admirer would take the hint because it would definitely suck to see her knight in shining armor end up falling on her sword.

  “No offense,” he said, “but I saw her first.”

  He tried to jerk his arm free, sloshing some of his drink on Brooklyn’s table in the process. Still, the woman held on. Her smile was pleasant—charming, in fact—but the white-knuckled grip she held on the man’s arm was anything but.

  “Let’s not allow this to get ugly, shall we?” the woman asked.

  The man’s defiant expression morphed into one of uncertainty then one of pain. “No problem.” His voice was at least an octave higher than its previous pitch. Brooklyn smiled at its cartoon-like quality. She abhorred violence, but she had to admit she was a little turned on by the woman’s effortless display of power. “She’s all yours.”

  “I’m so glad we could reach an understanding.”

  The woman finally released her grip and the man slunk away, rubbing his arm as if trying to take away the pain.

  The woman turned back to Brooklyn and gave a courtly bow. Drop-dead gorgeous and chivalrous to boot. So far, she was two for two. “I apologize for the disturbance.”

  “Totally not your fault. Thanks for interceding the way you did.”

  “It was the least I could do.”

  Modest, too. Make that three for three. “Do you make a habit out of rescuing damsels in distress?”

  “You strike me as many things, but a damsel in distress certainly isn’t one of them.”

  The woman’s words seemed sincere, not a transparent attempt to stroke her ego as she tried to convince her to fall into bed. Not that she’d have to do much convincing. “Thank you for the compliment.”

  “More like a statement of fact.” The woman held Brooklyn’s gaze as she waited for her words to sink in. Damn, she was smooth. “Enjoy your evening.”

  The woman turned to leave. As much as Brooklyn wanted to enjoy the view as she watched her walk away, she didn’t want to see her go. She held out a hand to stop her. “Will you allow me to buy you a drink to express my appreciation for your act of chivalry?”

  The woman flashed that charming smile again. “If you’re offering, I’m not about to turn down a free drink.”

  Brooklyn caught a roving waitress’s eye. “What would you like?” she asked as the waitress made her way over to their table.

  The woman claimed the seat across from Brooklyn. “Scotch. Neat. A twenty-year-old single malt if they have it. Twelve if they don’t.”

  Classic. Understated. Brooklyn had no idea who this woman was, but she liked her style. Her dark hair was short and parted on one side, making her look like a distaff Cary Grant. She didn’t have the legendary actor’s English accent, but her bearing and mannerisms were just as suave as his had been on the silver screen.

  “Thank you for the drink,” the woman said after the waitress left to fill their order.

  “I think my expense account can afford to take the hit.”

  The woman’s smile turned playful. The first time during their brief time together that Brooklyn had seen her let her guard down. The stoic guardian angel thing had its merits, but this was a good look, too. “I won’t tell your boss if you don’t.”

  “Too late,” Brooklyn said with a wink. “She already knows.”

  “The woman at the top of the food chain, huh?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Color me impressed. And thank you for confirming my suspicions about you.”

  “Who do I have to thank for coming to my rescue?”

  The woman’s gray eyes sparkled with a hint of mischievousness. “On a night like this in a setting like this, I find anonymity works best, don’t you?”

  If Brooklyn had thought the woman couldn’t possibly get any more alluring, she had been woefully off the mark.

  “I like a bit of mystery every now and then,” she said, “but I have to call you something. How about Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Does that work?”

  “TDH for short. What shall I call you?”

  Brooklyn thought for a moment. She wanted to play the game TDH had drawn her into, but she didn’t want to blurt out the first name that came to mind. Outside, a few flakes of snow had begun to fall, reminding her of a character in one of her favorite animated movies.

  “You can call me Olaf.”

  “An inspired choice, I must say.” TDH unleashed a throaty laugh as she extended her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Olaf.” Even though Brooklyn could tell she was holding back, TDH’s grip was strong. Almost crushing. No wonder her wannabe Romeo had run away with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs.

  Brooklyn’s father had taught her to appreciate the value of a good handshake. TDH’s showed she had enough confidence in her own power not to be intimidated by someone else’s.

  “What would you like to drink to?” TDH asked after the waitress set a highball glass filled with Scotch on the table.

  “The kindness of strangers,” Brooklyn said without hesitation.

  TDH gently tapped her sturdy glass against Brooklyn’s more fragile one. “A worthy sentiment, to be sure.”

  “What brings you to Tokyo?”

  Brooklyn thought the question was fairly innocuous, but TDH gave it careful consideration before she replied.

  “I was on a business trip. Japan provided a convenient layover on my way home. I’m flying out tomorrow morning. I wasn’t planning on meeting anyone tonight. I just didn’t want to ring in the new year alone.”

  “Great minds think alike.” Brooklyn felt lucky to have met someone who was on the same page. “Where’s home?”

  TDH waved a hand dismissively. “A tiny speck in the Pacific you’ve most likely never heard of. It’s on the map, but you have to know what you’re looking for to be able to find it.”

  “That sounds remote. I’m part of a large family and I live and work in New York City. I can’t imagine not being surrounded by dozens of people at all times. On second thought, that sounds heavenly. Do you have room on your flight for one more?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to refer you to a travel agent for the answer to that question. Would you like to get something to eat? I hear this hotel makes a salmon roll that’s to die for.”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  The scrumptiou
s buffet was the main reason Brooklyn had eschewed pajamas and room service for a little black dress and heels. After she and TDH made their way through the buffet line, they returned to their table and chatted amiably while they ate.

  TDH asked more questions than she answered. By the time the clock neared midnight, Brooklyn felt certain her gorgeous protector knew much more about her than the other way around. Not that there was anything wrong with that. In fact, it gave her something to look forward to the next time they saw each other. If there was a next time.

  “I’m sorry for monopolizing the conversation,” she said. “I feel like I’ve spent the past two hours babbling about myself. You must think I’m the ultimate narcissist.”

  “Far from it. I’ve enjoyed having a chance to get to know you.”

  “I would love a chance to return the favor. I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Where I’m from, your occupation defines you. When you strike up a conversation with someone, the first question usually isn’t What’s your name? but Who do you work for?”

  “Then I suppose you could consider me a bit of a free agent.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You seem like someone who’s used to calling her own shots.”

  “You’re very perceptive.” A small smile played across TDH’s handsome face. “Remind me not to attempt to hide anything from you.”

  The comment could have been innocuous or it could have been an invitation for a return engagement. Not bothering to analyze TDH’s words too carefully, Brooklyn dug a pen out of her clutch bag, wrote her cell phone number on a cocktail napkin, and slid the napkin across the table. Sharing her business card would have been easier, but she didn’t want to break the rules TDH had established for what was turning out to be an incredibly sexy game.

  “If you’re ever in New York, dial that number and ask for Olaf.”

  TDH glanced at the napkin, then slipped it into the inside pocket of her suit jacket. “I’ll do that.”

  As the crowd counted down the waning seconds to the new year, Brooklyn felt absurdly giddy. In that moment, everything was fraught with possibility. Even a chance meeting with a complete stranger.

  When the countdown reached zero and couples all around them celebrated the moment with kisses ranging from chaste to passionate, Brooklyn ached to do the same. She didn’t make a move in that direction, though, because she was fairly certain her breath reeked of wasabi and raw fish. She had spent the past two hours trying to make a good impression. She didn’t want to sabotage all her hard work before she had a chance to make a lasting one.

  She pressed her lips to TDH’s cheek, then whispered in her ear. “Thank you once again for coming to my rescue. If we’re fortunate enough to meet again, I hope it’s under much more pleasant—and pleasurable—circumstances.”

  And if she had anything to say about it, it certainly would be.

  Chapter Two

  Santana typically worked out wearing a sports bra and a pair of loose-fitting shorts. Aside from her bright yellow running shoes, today she had opted for all black. The sun felt good as it beat down on her bare shoulders, arms, and back. The light sheen of sweat on her skin helped keep her cool as she ran.

  She glanced at her sports watch to check her progress. She had put in fifteen miles so far and had another five to go. She preferred shorter distances, but she often liked to test her limits. Sometimes, she simply wanted to enjoy the view. Today was one of those days.

  The island nation of ’Ohe Sojukokoro was so small she could circle it during a long run. She had tried on many countries for size, but ’Ohe Sojukokoro was the only one that felt like home. Its name, composed of the Polynesian word for bamboo and the Yoruba word for cove, was as beautiful as the country itself. According to local folklore, its founding family was a native princess and an east African warrior who was swept out to sea and ended up shipwrecked on an island thousands of miles away from home.

  Though she hadn’t been born there, ’Ohe Sojukokoro spoke to her in a way no other place did. She and the country shared some of the same qualities, namely multicultural roots and a fiercely independent spirit. She had found it purely by accident when she had eavesdropped on a conversation between a couple of surfers in an airport bar while she waited out a layover between assignments. The moment she had touched down for the first time, she had known she would never leave. Not for good, anyway. Though work frequently called her away, she always came back. She always would.

  She could be herself here, not one of the myriad of identities she assumed whenever the situation warranted. As she jogged past their places of business, the shopkeepers greeted her by name, making her feel like a local instead of a tourist.

  “Slow down, my sistah,” David Kahale said as she neared the Kon-Tiki Bar and Grill, the most popular restaurant on the island. “You’re running like someone’s chasing you.”

  Sometimes she felt that way, too. She had been trying to outrun her past practically since the day she was born. One day, she hoped to finally get ahead of it.

  “Save me a seat at the bar for lunch,” she said without breaking stride. “I’ll be back as soon as I freshen up.”

  “I’ll be sure to double whatever you order,” David said. “After a workout like that, you’re gonna need it.”

  “Thanks, David. You’re a man after my own heart.”

  His hearty laugh propelled her on her way. She picked up her pace as she began the last phase of her run. The steep incline provided a serious test of her endurance. The first time she had tried to navigate the route, her spirit had been willing, but her rubbery legs and burning lungs had had other ideas. Now that failure served as motivation. That and the sprawling house that topped the hill.

  No matter how tired she was when she reached this point, she always felt a rush of energy when her house came into view. On paper, she appeared to possess many things, but her house was the only thing that truly belonged to her. More like a fortress than a home, the five thousand square foot structure was filled with enough high-tech toys to keep her entertained and a state-of-the-art security system designed to keep her safe. Though she took pains to avoid drawing attention to herself, she wasn’t foolish enough to think she didn’t have enemies. She was smart enough, however, not to let them know where she laid her head at night.

  She lived a solitary existence. Not because she wanted to. Because she had to. She longed to form a connection that was more than simply platonic, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to embark upon a serious relationship because she didn’t know if she could keep her partner safe.

  She checked her watch again, confirming that she was close to breaking her personal best time for the distance. Resisting the urge to grit her teeth, she forced her body to stay relaxed as she increased her rate of turnover. Legs churning, she reached her driveway thirty seconds faster than she ever had before.

  She took a millisecond to celebrate her accomplishment, then began her recovery routine. She hydrated, stretched, then submerged herself in the hot tub. The warm water helped her muscles relax. She wished she could find something that had a similar effect on her mind, but she knew she wouldn’t truly find peace until she finally earned her freedom. And perhaps not even then.

  The chime of an incoming message drew her from her reverie. The sound filled her with dread every time she heard it. She hadn’t expected to hear it so soon. She didn’t usually receive another assignment so quickly after completing a previous one. She had thought she would have more time to try to forget about the odious task she had just carried out until she was compelled to perform another one.

  She dried her hands on a nearby towel and reached for her laptop. After she opened the application, she read the details of the hit job.

  “Apologies for the short notice,” the message read, “but our client is anxious for results and would like the task to be performed as quickly
as possible. Preferably within the next few days. To assist your efforts, we have already performed the necessary surveillance on the target, as you will see in the attached dossier.”

  She opened the accompanying file. The target was identified as twenty-eight-year-old Charlotte Evans, who worked in Manhattan but lived in Jersey City, New Jersey, where the cost of living was significantly lower than it was across the Hudson River. She wasn’t a high-ranking political official like Santana’s previous target. According to the brief profile included in the dossier, she was a mid-level executive for a tech company. That partially explained the relatively low fee. Despite the special measures that had been taken for the expedited request, the listed charge was only six figures instead of seven.

  Santana didn’t know what the woman had done to raise someone’s ire enough to want her dead, but she didn’t have time to sit around wondering why. Because of the security settings on the app, the post would be automatically deleted thirty minutes after she accessed it. That gave her just enough time to memorize all the necessary details before the information was erased from her computer’s hard drive as well as the app’s servers.

  She scrolled through the series of photographs included in the folder and examined the risk. Charlotte shared a house with two other people in the Hamilton Park neighborhood. The area was part of Jersey City’s historic district and was centered on a Victorian age park of the same name. The park hosted several family-friendly events throughout the year, including a weekly farmers market, an Easter egg hunt, a youth festival, and a Shakespeare festival. The neighborhood sounded like the perfect place to live—and a terrible place to carry out a professional hit.

  Santana thought she would be better served carrying out the job in Manhattan. The number of potential witnesses would be exponentially higher, but the percentage of people who would be concentrating on something other than their own agendas would be far lower. And New York, like Tokyo, offered plenty of places to hide. Her handler must have reached the same conclusion because the message included the address of a place across from the target’s office where she could set up shop.