Well. Problem solved. Because if there was one thing Kade could do, it was kill people. And as a bonus, it also paid well.

* * *

Once word got out that Kade Dennon had come out of retirement and was back in the field, business started booming.

Kade fell back into the routine almost too easily. Take a job. Study the target. Plan the mission. Execute it. Doing it kept his mind busy. You had to be cold on the inside to look someone in the eye—someone for whom you had no personal animus, no grudge or hatred—and kill them. And with each new contract he fulfilled, that coldness grew larger and even more frigid.

He took jobs no one else would, because in the end, there’s nothing more deadly than an assassin with nothing to lose. Everything he’d almost had was already gone.

It was close to midnight in the part of the world he now inhabited, and the flat he was invading had a security system. Had being the operative word, as Kade had already disabled it.

In the past Kade had lived by a code of sorts, and it determined the contracts he’d taken. He’d choose only those jobs whose targets were already criminals, but for whom wealth or politics put them beyond the reach of traditional law enforcement.

Now he didn’t particularly care what the job was. The more dangerous, the better. Some might say Kade had a death wish. He’d say he was already dead.

A guard stayed with his current target in his flat, and Kade stepped over the guard’s now lifeless body while scanning the shadows for any further threats. The stairs were carpeted, which further muffled Kade’s already silent footsteps. The study was down the hall and to the right, which was where—as the past three nights of surveillance had shown—the target always was at this hour.

Kade slowly approached the doorway, a sliver of light leaking through the open crack. Reaching out, he pushed the door open.

Only to be faced with a gun.

His target was standing in front of a desk, gun in hand, and pointing it directly at Kade.

“I’ve been expecting someone to come,” he said.

“Well then, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you,” Kade replied evenly.

“Toss your weapon on the floor,” the target ordered. Kade complied. “Now put your hands behind your head.”

Kade did as he was told while the man stepped back, carefully keeping an eye on Kade as he reached behind him for the phone on the desk. He dialed 999.

“You’re calling the cops?” Kade asked in disbelief as the man held the receiver to his ear. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The guy ignored him, reporting a break-in and requesting someone to come arrest the intruder.

“Just shoot me already,” Kade ordered in exasperation when the man hung up. “I am not going to fucking prison.”

“I don’t kill people if I don’t have to,” the man replied evenly.

Just then, a second guard came barreling down the hallway. He must’ve found his buddy’s body, Kade mused. It was enough to send the guy into full alert mode, which turned out to be too bad for him when he ran through the doorway.

Kade was ready, turning and yanking the guy by his gun arm and jerking him off-balance. He stumbled and Kade pulled his body in front of his own, using him as a shield for when the target reflexively fired his gun. Two shots rang out before the target realized he was shooting his own guy, the body in front of Kade jerking from the impact. The target looked stunned as the blood began flowing. Kade grabbed the guard’s hand, which still held a weapon, fitted his index finger over the one already on the trigger, raised the arm, and fired. The target went down. Kade dropped the guard’s body.

The whole thing had taken less than five seconds.

Stepping over the body, Kade approached the man who he’d shot in the chest. He stood over him, trying to feel something as he watched the blood pulsing from the open wound in time with the man’s heartbeat. All he could feel was a chilly detachment.

“Should’ve killed me when you had the chance,” Kade mused. It was too bad, really. It could’ve been his body on the floor instead of the guard’s.

The thought didn’t cause so much as a flicker of concern or fear, only a somewhat tired resignation.

The man didn’t respond, and a moment later, he couldn’t. He was dead.

Police sirens wailed and Kade decided the window would have to do tonight. Luckily, the building connected to another, which led to a fire escape that took him back down to street level. Three hours later, he was on a plane and out of the country.

The next job took him to the West Coast and a home that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. The place had cost millions and had top-of-the-line security. It was a fool’s mission to try an all-out assault on the place, which was guarded like a fortress. But Kade didn’t try to get to the house. He only had to wait until the target came to him.

The target had a weakness: sailing. If weather conditions were just right, he’d drop everything on his schedule and take the small sailboat he owned out onto the water. Despite all his security, it seemed he liked being alone for this one activity. Which was perfect.

Kade penetrated the lax security on the sailboat and hid below deck. Then he waited. According to weather reports, tomorrow morning had an eighty-five percent chance of having ideal sailing weather.

Sleep wasn’t an option, not while Kade was on a mission, so he didn’t. Not that he was a big fan anymore of sleeping. It seemed he could control his waking thoughts much more than he could his subconscious. Nightmares plagued him, of Kathleen, of something happening to her, of what she’d say if she knew what he’d become. The look on her face as Kade confessed his countless sins. Horror, followed by disgust, then loathing.

In his nightmares, he begged her forgiveness, but before she could answer him, before she could absolve or condemn him, the blood began to flow. Wounds that had no source appeared on her flawless skin, slashes of crimson cutting her to shreds. Kade watched in helpless terror as Kathleen screamed, writhing in pain as blood seeped from her body, until the sounds she made faded into silence and her blue eyes stared into his, unseeing and lifeless. Only then did he see the knife in his hand, stained and warm with her blood, and realize . . . he had killed her. Horrified, he dropped the knife, only then seeing her blood coating his hands. Pulling his gun from its holster, he stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger—

Kade woke with a start, a cold sweat sticky on his skin. He’d fallen asleep after all. Then he heard the sound that had woken him. Sounds above deck. The target was here. Fuck.

More rattled than he wanted to admit, Kade scrambled, grabbing the gun and silencer at his side and checking to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire. Getting to his feet, he crouched in the corner, behind the stairs that led up to the deck. All he had to do was wait until they were far enough from shore to prevent assistance and mask the gunshot, but not so far that he couldn’t swim back.

It didn’t take long, maybe twenty minutes, before the rocking of the boat signaled Kade they were well underway. He took a deep breath, finding it hard to remove Kathleen’s image from behind his eyes every time he blinked.

A moment later, he was up the ladder, observing the shore and gauging the distance. He’d timed it just right. What he hadn’t counted on was that the target would have chosen today, of all days, to bring along his daughter.

Kade stood, gun raised and aimed, as he watched the man and the girl freeze in place at the sight of him. Neither of them moved, shock and fear rooting them in place.

They were too close together, the girl and her father. He’d been showing her something, something to do with the workings of the boat. Kade didn’t have a clear shot.

She was young, maybe nine years old, ten? Her hair was long and reddish-blonde, pulled back into a braid that hung far down her back. But it was her eyes that Kade couldn’t look away from. They were as clear blue as a warm summer sky. The kind of blue he now only saw in his dreams.

After a charged moment in which Kade didn’t speak or move, the father said, “Please. Just let her go down below.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “Please.”

The girl’s eyes were filled with terror as she stared at Kade, her hands gripping her father’s shirt in tight little fists.

Kade’s voice wouldn’t work, so he just gave a jerky nod.

“Sweetheart,” the father said, keeping his eyes warily on Kade, “I need you to go down below for a while. And don’t come up. No matter what you hear.”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes and began pouring down her cheeks. “No, Daddy!” She clutched tighter at him.

Kade couldn’t breathe.

The man began relentlessly removing her hands from him. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, his voice almost preternaturally calm. “It’ll be okay. Just do as I say.”

The child threw her arms around the man’s waist, burying her face against his shirt. “Please don’t leave me!” she sobbed, her plaintive cry audible even over the wind.

Kade’s hand began to shake.

The man, alarmed now, shifted the girl so she was behind him, moving his body to shield hers. “I don’t want her to see,” he choked out. “Please. I don’t want her to see me die.”

The girl peered around her dad. The wind had freed some of her hair from the tight braid and the loose strands whipped around her face. Her eyes were accusing as she stared at Kade, the man who would take her father from her.

Which left Kade only one choice. In a quick motion, he turned and dove into the crashing waves.

* * *

Kade lay gasping on the beach, wet sand coating his hands and wetsuit. He’d swum far and away from the boat, putting as much distance between him and them as possible, which had taken him into rougher waters. It had consumed all his energy just to drag himself onto this deserted shore.

He flopped over onto his back, staring up at the nearly clear sky dotted with puffy clouds.

Maybe he shouldn’t have swum so hard. It would’ve been easy to just . . . stop, and let the ocean take him down to her depths. It was peaceful there, under the water. Peace, that elusive state of being that Kade had only experienced a handful of times.

He remembered the first time, in a fleabag motel room on the outskirts of Chicago, with a woman who seemed to want nothing from him—but to be safe.

Kathleen.

Kade had been alone for so long, worked alone for so long, that he’d forgotten what a woman’s touch felt like when it wasn’t all about sex. Kathleen had seemed to actually . . . care, which had shocked the hell out of him. When women saw him, they wanted one thing—a walk on the wild side, preferably naked. And that had been fine with Kade, for a really long time. And then it wasn’t.

Kade closed his eyes, remembering how it had felt to rest his head in her soft lap, feel the slow slide of her fingers through his hair in a touch intended to comfort, not arouse.

Peace.

It had taken him a few moments to recognize the feeling, and when he had, he’d been bone-deep grateful for it.

Now it was gone, and Kade knew with a certainty beyond all doubt that he would never find it again. So that left one question.

What was the point?

He’d broken the heart of the woman he loved, left her to raise his child without him. Blane had been right. Kade was no better than the man who’d fathered him. He’d repaid Blane’s love and acceptance by stealing his girl, then dumped her back on him as if she were garbage.

No one hated Kade more than he hated himself. There was nothing redeeming about him, nothing good or decent in his character. And no one would miss him when he was gone.

Kade lifted his hand, the sun glinting off the metal of the gun he held. He watched his hand move as though it belonged to a different person. The cold barrel pressed against his temple. It would be so quick, take such little effort, to pull the trigger.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He realized that now. The answer to the question was: There was no fucking point. Not without her. It was only a matter of time before he stopped swimming . . . and sank.

But before he did that, he wanted to see her—had to see her—just one more time.

Kade lowered his hand.

Now he had a purpose, and he automatically went through the motions of ditching his weapon and his wet clothes, removing all traces of his presence in California before heading to the airport. His flight to Boston would leave in thirty minutes. Instead of heading to the gate, he found a ticketing agent.