him. Trade drugs for a favor or twoâa plan that was already in the works. Think on his own. What the hell did the old guy on the other end of the phone even know?
Â
As the opening movement of Tchaikovskyâs Seventh Symphony swelled from the small CD player on the counter, Max Jamison, aka Jones, sat at the kitchen table waiting for a collect call. Depending on the length of the lineup to use the phone at the prison, the call could come in the next second or the next three to four hours. His gaze swept over the austere apartment heâd rented after arriving here a week after the double wedding of Dahlia Jensen to Jack Trahern, and Rosie Jensen to Ian Stearne. Thatâs a ceremony he would have liked to have seen, though he wouldnât have been welcome.
The last time he had seen Dahlia, sheâd believed he would kill her. She had shot him instead. Luckily for him, hospital prison wards were easier to escape from than prison cells. And now, unlikely as it seemed, here he wasâseeking his revenge. Franklin Lawrence was going to pay for blackmailing him into kidnapping Lilyâs sister.
Oh, he had done it, but heâd hated everything about it. After learning that Franklin Lawrence had since issued a contract on Lily, he had headed here.
A pro bono jobâand his last. God willing, his sister would never learn that he had spent the last twenty-plus years as a paid assassin. He liked thinking how retirement would be, being with her without the lies about what he did or where he had gone. Enjoying his favorite music on his state-of-the-art system over coffee that had been ground seconds before brewing. Spending time with his niece and nephew.
The few dishes from breakfast had been washed and put away. The double bed that should have been hauled off tothe dump ten years ago was made. The floor was swept, the battered furniture dusted. So, waiting was all he could do, just as he had done for much of his adult life.
He suspected that Lily believed Franklin Lawrence wouldnât still be interested in her now that the trial was over. Max knew better. Men like thatâmen like himâdidnât let go. Since Lawrence was looking at a life sentence of hard time if his appeal failed, Lily still wasnât safe. She might be with her family using her married name instead of her maiden nameâbut she wasnât safe. Not yet.
Maxâs cell phone rang thirty-seven minutes later.
âYeah,â he said.
âInteresting proposition,â came a gravelly voice on the other end of the line, âassuming youâre J.M.â
âI am.â
âSo how does this work?â the man asked.
Max wished for the more secure telephone line he had at his home. âIf you agree to the job, Iâll deposit fifty Gs wherever you want. After itâs done, Iâll deposit another fifty.â
âOne condition,â the man said. âCan you make it look legit so my wife and my kidââ
âConsider it done,â Max said. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Heâd carefully looked for the right man. A lifer who could be motivated to do a job that could only be accomplished by an inmate on the inside. Someone with nothing to lose.
âYouâve got a deal.â
âOkay,â Max said. He ended the call. Franklin Lawrence didnât know it yet, but he would never blackmail anyone again. His life sentence had been changed to a death sentence.
Chapter 5
âY ou did, didnât you?â Rosie repeated.
Lily met her sisterâs gaze, the last of her euphoria crashing like a meteor. First Quinn, now her sister. As teenagers she and Rosie had shared everything, especially those exciting firstsâfirst dates, first kisses, first loves. Disapproval⦠Lily hadnât expected that. Disappointment washed through her. If she couldnât share her confusing attraction to Quinn Morrison with her sister, she was even more alone than she had