Worth the Price Read online

  No. That wasn’t love, merely attraction, lust, except Frank wanted more than mere heat and the clash of bodies in the bedroom. If that one kiss was any indication, the chemistry between himself and Lex would be explosive.

  “Good night, Frank,” Wicked said with a sneer.

  Thank God, Wicked started walking the other direction of the alleyway, still tossing his knife up and down. With a disgusted grunt, Frank left a couple of minutes later. He headed straight home.

  On his way to his apartment, he passed by the old cinema near his neighborhood. Some romantic comedy was playing. Usually, Frank swerved to the side roads to avoid the emerging crowd. This time, he walked right through the insufferable couples.

  Why use the word insufferable?

  Frank envied them, lost in their own little bubble, a world they made for themselves. Part of him wondered if they merely saw each other, unaware of the world outside their scope, unaware a dangerous man walked among them. Tightening his grip on his bag, Frank soldiered on, reaching his home longer than expected.

  After dumping his gear by the living room, Frank walked to the kitchen to heat up his own dinner. With microwave dinner in hand, he retreated to the living room and turned his TV on. Frank glanced at his cellphone. No messages, none from Lex at least.

  He let out a breath. He wondered what it would be like, having Lex sitting close, looking awkward and nervous. Frank would then enjoy teasing the hell out of Lex. Eventually, Lex would loosen up and start opening up to him.

  What the hell was the matter with him?

  All his training began to unravel right after meeting Lex. Pursuing Lex would revert him to his old and weak self, someone burdened with emotions. Emotions meant weakness, and got in the way of doing what he was good at.

  Contrary to what other assassins at the Organization believed, Frank hadn’t been born soulless. He knew how to love once, to be normal.

  “Move on and forget,” Frank muttered.

  Chapter Four

  “Will that be all?” the same annoying waiter asked Lex.

  This was the fourth time this evening the man asked. Lex had counted. The next question was coming, the one Lex dreaded. Why did he come here in the first place? He knew the answer to that, but Frank wasn’t coming.

  Pinning all his hopes on a stranger he met the night before—pathetic. The waiter gave his shoulder an unexpected squeeze, sympathetic look on his face. Saying nothing else, the waiter left and didn’t bother him for the rest of the night. His chest tightened.

  Did he look that miserable?

  He supposed he did. Lex took an extraordinary amount of time picking what to wear. No special occasion or anything, but he picked out the red bowtie for once. Spent an hour getting it right and for what? Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.

  Real men didn’t cry. What would Dom say? Using the napkin on his lap, he dabbed at his eyes. Eager to get the hell out of there and sulk in his apartment, Lex called for the bill. Once that was taken care of, he grabbed his coat and walked to the exit. Keeping his eyes on the ground, he avoided the waiter’s gaze.

  The night air caressed his face. A good long walk would help him reflect on his colossal mistake. There seemed to be a surge of couples walking the streets tonight. The sight of so many happy people dampened his mood. Lex palmed the card inside the pocket of his blazer. He’d been doing that since he went out, fingering the elegant little card as if it were a charm.

  “Bad luck,” he muttered.

  Lights flickered ahead of him. Lex looked up, unhinged at the sight of three young men in hoodies, talking among themselves. Without realizing it, he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. What a perfect way to end another miserable evening. Lex ought to really stop trying so hard and remain content to die alone.

  Instinct told him to take another turn. Hearing footsteps behind him, he hurried. Not looking over his shoulder, he entered an unfamiliar small street and another. He pretended to have a purpose, to know where he was going. In reality, he had no clue where he was going. All he knew was he had entered some kind of quiet residential neighborhood.

  On second thought, he stumbled on some kind of abandoned area. Half of the lampposts here didn’t work. The remaining ones flickered and cast pale light on broken windows and old graffiti.

  Fear gripped him. Lex continued walking, wondering if he somehow fell asleep back in the restaurant waiting on a man he met the night before. A man he connected to on some unexplainable level and who actually found him interesting.

  Stubbing his foot on the cracked sidewalk made him yelp. The pain told him this wasn’t a dream. Calm down. Don’t panic.

  Not hearing anything behind him, Lex fished out his inhaler and took a lungful of calming medication. Shutting his eyes, he counted to ten. What next? He might not have a man or someone to ask directions. Feeling stupid, Lex took out his phone. To his horror, the battery was low. The light died out as soon as he opened his GPS.

  Lex took another whiff of his inhaler. He heard the sound then, the shuffle of feet on gravel, followed by a muffled cry. Heart thudding painfully against his chest, Lex tucked his phone and inhaler away. He listened intently, but heard nothing else.

  Was there someone else here?

  “Hello, anyone there?” he called out, tentative.

  Rational thought told him to start running as fast as he can. To where, he didn’t know, but fleeing sounded like a better prospect than lingering around. A heavy thud came from the right from the alley a couple of steps ahead of him. Morbid curiosity made him track the source of the sound. Lex stood at the entrance, unable to see anything at first. Go back, a voice in his head screamed. Lex took several steps forward.

  He caught the little details first. Lex made out the faint shape of a man and a second huddled against the wall. Then the gory details leaped back at Lex. It felt like being one of those idiotic characters on detective shows who lacked the common sense not to stumble into a crime scene by accident.

  Thick liquid pooled on the ground, the color blacker than the dirty gravel. Blood. The faint smell of copper caressed his nostrils. Bile rose in Lex’s throat. Metal glinted in the dark, followed by a rough outline of a face and the twist of cruel lips turning downwards. Lex stumbled backwards as the barrel pointed in his direction.

  Recognition hit him like a sledgehammer. He knew that face, the outline of that body, those talented hands that apparently possessed more skills apart from those in the bedroom. The mouth he dreamt of claiming his lips once again, opened to whisper his name, except there was no trace of desire in there.

  Cold, merciless eyes lacking a conscience met his. The dark things that lurked inside this man’s eyes terrified the hell out of Lex. He saw his own death reflected in there. Gone was the handsome and elegant stranger who charmed the pants off of him the night before, the man who thrust fire into his mouth and lit every nerve in his body. The stranger he hoped to catch a glimpse of. Well, Lex got his wish, didn’t he?

  The hand that held the gun was steady. Too calm.

  “Lex.”

  Hearing his name broke his paralysis. Lex turned tail, all too aware that was a stupid move. One bullet to his spine and he was done for. Frank let out a curse behind him. No sound of gunfire. Was Frank still debating whether to kill him? But Lex had seen the way Frank looked at him. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then Frank’s eyes were empty, completely lacking one. A monster.

  Lex had never been much of a runner, but he poured all his energies into his legs. Back on the main street now, he looked left and right. Frank’s footsteps were so light he hardly heard them. He knew Frank was right behind him though. Maybe the bastard decided there was no reason to rush because Frank was certain of his kill.

  Yeah, right. As if Lex would make it that easy.

  Deciding the main road proved too open, he swerved into another small street. Created a zigzag haphazard path he hoped would dissuade Frank. No such luck. When he turned his head, he saw Frank like some g
hostly apparition in a designer suit, still holding the gun by his side.

  An eerie smile curved on those tempting lips. Even in this situation, Lex still recalled being kissed by the killer. Was he fucked-up for still wanting Frank? God. Frank looked like some predator in human skin, walking towards him without a care in the world. Not out of breath, either.

  What the hell? Who was this guy? His mind raced. Was Frank a pro perhaps, a hitman working for one of the city’s criminal families?

  “Are you ready to talk about this like civilized adults, Lex?” Frank asked, like they were discussing the weather.

  Lex turned tail and continued running.

  For the first time in his life, he sent a silent prayer to the God he never believed in. Lex very well knew he didn’t have much of a life. When depression hit him hard, he considered suicide. When it finally came time for his brush with death, he realized how badly he wanted to live.

  Lungs heaving, each step felt weighed down. Lex fumbled for his inhaler and took in a deep whiff of his medicine. He wanted to give up. Collapse on the sidewalk and be done with it. His foot caught on something. One empty beer can sent him sprawling on the sidewalk. The sickening crunch of bone filled his ears first, before the blinding agony of his broken nose jolted his brain.

  Enough. Exhaustion rode him. He tried his best, but it hadn’t been good enough. Never mind if this psycho slaughtered him like a livestock, like prey not worth hunting down.

  Dom’s voice spoke in his head. You’re a fighter, Lex. Find shelter.

  “I can’t. I’m so tired, baby. I’m weak. You were the strong one. My anchor,” Lex whispered. The dirty concrete felt cool against his cheek.

  Dom didn’t speak again. Well, Dom’s voice had always been a figment of his imagination, something to keep the grief at bay, from crushing him. He clenched his fists by his side. Crazy or not, Lex had to give this another try. Stumbling to his feet, he wiped at his messy face, cringing at his bloodied collar.

  Move. He broke into a run again.

  Lex made a sharp turn, finding himself in a narrow alley. Good. He could shimmy his way to the other end and—Lex’s hurried footsteps seemed uncommonly loud, clattering on the gravel. He gripped the wall for support, stunned by the wall up ahead of him—too high for him to scale, not to mention he lacked the athletics to run anymore.

  Reaching the dead end, he whirled. Frank waved at him like they were old friends who happened to meet by accident. Desperate, Lex looked left and right like a cornered animal who knew escape was impossible. He couldn’t die like this. How long would it take for the cops to find his body? A professional killer wouldn’t leave a mess behind. Where would Lex’s final resting place be?

  Shit. Thinking morbid thoughts didn’t help, but what else could he do?

  “You led me into a merry chase, Lex,” Frank said in a disapproving voice.

  The killer closed the remaining distance, raising the gun once more. The metal barrel dug between Lex’s eyes. Someone, an animal nearby, whimpered. It took him a second to realize the sound originated from him. The safety was off.

  Frank’s fingers hovered on the trigger. Lex had a feeling a man like Frank wouldn’t be plagued by any weakness. To his shame, his bladder emptied. The taste of fear and despair still lingered like ashes in his mouth.

  What would Dom do in this kind of situation? Certainly not cower against the wall or consider pleading for his life, the way Lex was about to. Lex closed his mouth. Strangely, a panic attack didn’t start. Good. Lex didn’t need his inhaler. Lifting his eyes, he met Frank’s cool gaze. Last night, he saw a side of this stranger that was all fire. Hot and cold, could Frank switch his humanity off and on?

  Frank studied him for a couple of seconds. “Something’s changed.”

  “He wouldn’t want me to go like a beaten dog. Do it,” Lex hissed between his teeth. Inwardly, he wondered where his courage came from.

  “He? Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to the same place where he is. Do it.”

  “If you want to die so much, then I would be happy to oblige you.”

  A laugh bubbled out of him. Not ideal when a murderer had a gun on him. “Do you get off from this, holding all the power?”

  Frank’s lips twisted to what resembled a smile. “Killing’s what I’m made for. Don’t try to reason with me, or convince me there’s some good in me. Bullshit like that.”

  “Don’t worry, baby. I know what you are.”

  Jesus. When did Lex ever sound so vehement? Having a gun pointed at his head dragged out the worst in him. What was this guy’s problem anyway? Did Frank make a habit out of chatting with his victims?

  “Let me guess. You’re going to tell me to burn in hell, or some variation.”

  “I was right. You do get your rocks off this.” Lex’s mouth went dry when the barrel dug deeper into his skin, bound to leave a mark, but Lex was past the stage of caring. If Frank blew his brains out, he’d been unrecognizable. It was time to go back to the dirt where everyone belonged.

  “Want to know a little secret? This, one man holding the power of death over another, it’s as good as sex. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Are those your last words, Lex? Well, I suppose I’ve heard worse.”

  A direct bullet to the brain wouldn’t hurt. It would be all over soon. Lex shut his eyes and waited to die.

  Chapter Five

  Complete the objective. Eliminate unnecessary witnesses in the most efficient way possible.

  The rules of the Organization had been branded into his brain ever since Frank joined as a rookie. Never once he broke those rules. Lawbreakers courted certain death and never lived long. When did he acquire a conscience?

  Pulling the trigger was easy. What he did next proved harder. Using the barrel of his favorite .45 modified Colt, he slammed it against the side of Lex’s skull, knocking Lex out cold instantly. Lex’s eyes fluttered shut. Frank caught Lex before he crumpled to the floor. Tucking away his gun, Frank pulled out his cell phone.

  “Target eliminated. I need a clean-up crew.” Frank gave the address of where he left the body and ended the call.

  His actions eluded and disturbed him. Frank looked at the unconscious man in his arms, grimacing at the mess he made of Lex’s face. A bruise peeked from the side of Lex’s head where he’d clobbered Lex with his Colt. Blood began to dry on Lex’s face and throat. True, Lex had fallen on the sidewalk on his own and broke his nose, but Lex did it to get away from him.

  Frank had been ready to do it. Once he’d seen the same terrified look on Lex’s face and the judgment in those eyes, Frank would have been happy to end Lex’s life, nothing personal.

  Veteran or rookie, any assassin was bound to run into a witness. Cleaning up their own messes was a given. It was simply good business. The Organization paid all their agents a hefty price tag for each kill for the sole reason they didn’t exist.

  The sudden defiance in Lex’s eyes shocked the hell out of Frank and nothing surprised him any longer. With a grunt, he dragged Lex’s unconscious body out of the alley. His silver 1963 Chevrolet Impala was hidden in an abandoned warehouse, two blocks away.

  By the time he returned to his ride, sweat coated his front and back. Placing Lex’s body in the back seat gently, Frank took out a spare handkerchief and attempted to wipe some of the blood away.

  He gave Lex’s face a scrutinizing look. Well, that was the best he could do. Getting behind the wheel, his phone beeped. Seeing the bank transfer for the latest job come in, he sighed and stole a glance at his unexpected guest.

  Hostage was the better word, because Frank couldn’t let a witness loose. For one, if word of his transgression returned to the Organization, he would endanger both their lives. No one liked traitors. Lex wouldn’t survive if the Organization sent more assassins after him, killers who wouldn’t make the mistake Frank did.

  Running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, Frank st
ared at the dark interior of the warehouse for a couple of moments. It wasn’t too late to amend his error, to sweep everything under the rug. It would be easy to pull out one of his guns and end Lex’s life.

  That way, Lex died a quick death. Lex wouldn’t suffer. Once the Organization got its hands on Lex, they would insist on interrogating Lex to find out if Frank imparted any secrets. Frank’s mind furiously worked as he drove out of the warehouse and back to his apartment. After parking his car, he hefted Lex’s body with a grunt. For the first time since he lived in that building, he carried his hostage.

  ****

  A headache chased the heels of one very bad dream. A nightmare Lex didn’t want to relive again. Damn. It felt like he’d been punched in the face. Lex stretched and yawned, determined to get a glass of water and swallow a couple of aspirins.

  He found out his movements were limited. Opening his eyes, but not entirely awake, he tugged at his left arm, surprised to find it attached to a leather cuff. As an experiment, Lex gave it a tug, but it didn’t give. It was good as steel.

  “What the hell?”

  “I was wondering when you’d wake. I’ve been keeping watch over you this entire time.”

  His heartbeats accelerated. Wide awake now, Lex took a good look at his room, except this wasn’t his room. He wasn’t tied to his own bed either. The space was clean, organized and furnished minimally. He had trouble pushing air through his lungs. Any more stimulation and his circuits would overload.

  Lex tried not to stare at the man who spoke, who sat on the armchair facing the bed. Even in his own private space, Frank dressed with care. He wondered if Frank wore the suit and tie for him, or if Frank was on his way to work, whatever that meant.

  A laugh slipped between his lips. Here he was, in the most unexpected situation, tied to some psycho killer’s bed while said killer was off to end another life, or lives—plural.

  Last night’s memories came crashing back to him. Lex had been ready to die, to reach another plane and maybe meet Dom again. It appeared he still had some unfinished business.