Riley (The Kendall Family #3) (13 page)

She’d considered the likelihood of being caught before getting her revenge for her parents, but she never could’ve foreseen
these
results. She’d assumed prison at the worst, unless the terrorists caught her, in which case she’d been ready to end it all rather than be some sex slave. For all that those terrorists acted like they were the sword of God, they knew nothing about respecting women. Or any life. She’d never regretted killing the pig. He’d deserved it. She’d probably done the world a favor.

And that’s something she’d tried to tell herself every time she’d killed for Thomas, but she had to ask him about it first, to make sure. And here she was with the guy she hadn’t asked too much about as part of the new agreement with Thomas, and Riley certainly didn’t deserve to die. The time had come to do herself a favor, instead of the world, and cut herself free. The moment those photos were sent, she was out. She could visit her family after all these years. Get a life. A new future.
Any
future.

She felt positively giddy at the prospect. And very grateful to the man before her for giving her this. Even after she’d tried to kill him. She owed him everything and had every intention of providing him with exactly that. And she knew he’d help himself heartily. The thought made her wet between the legs.

As they cleaned up, Riley said, “Time to set up Thomas instead of him setting
us
up.”

“Sounds perfect,” she beamed, getting out both phones. They resumed their seats at the kitchen table, pulling up Jake’s phone first. There’d been no contact. Riley initiated it now, pretending to be the dead sniper partly by mimicking what he’d seen of Jake’s texting style.

Jacques: What’s the story?

Thomas: Let me tell her to head there. Get ready.

J: K. What then?

T: I’ll tell her to do it. Be ready when she goes in for photo

J: K

T: Wait for my signal

J: K

Riley waited a moment for any further messages, but the next one came on Jordan’s phone, from Thomas. She picked it up, feeling chills and a simmering anger. She let out a breath so she didn’t reveal any unexpected emotion to the guy trying to kill her.

Thomas: Where r u?

Jordan: Hotel

T: Head to target

J: What about #2?

T: Have intel. Go ahead w #1. Will send intel after

J: K

T: Text when in position. Do NOT fire yet

J: WTF? Whatever

T: Behave. Remember our deal

J: I’ll honor it if you will

T: ETA?

J: 1 hr

T: K

Jordan put the phone down, having given Thomas some attitude just because it’s what she normally would’ve done. “I’m really looking forward to killing that asshole.”

Riley squeezed her close and she leaned into him. “Me, too.”

“I call dibs.”

Riley chuckled. “Okay. I get the other guy, the one who hired Thomas.”

“Deal.” She sealed it with a kiss.

A text from Thomas appeared on Jake’s phone and the Marine picked it up.

Thomas: She’ll be there 1 hr

Jacques: On the way

T: Will text when she’s taking shot

J: K

Before long, Chloe returned from a party store that seemingly sold Halloween-type stuff year round. They did some makeup tests and looked at grisly photos for reference. Chloe experimented on both of them. By now, Kris had arrived and seemed a little less negative about Jordan, who she seemed determined to feel out more by being around her. Kris’ eyes hardened and her lips flattened into a line the moment she saw the obvious signs of the two snipers being an item, but she said nothing.

As they got started applying makeup, Jordan said, “Shit. Just realized something.”

“What?” Riley approached.

“My clothes. This isn’t what I’d wear for a job. Thomas will know it, but you ripped off what I was wearing. I don’t have replacements.”

He sighed. “Okay. Maybe we’ll just use a headshot for you. Will that work?”

“Maybe. You still have my mask? We can put that on me and then lift it up as if he bared my face after killing me, to take a photo.”

“Hmm,” Chloe began, “that would mean the bullet went through the cloth. When he pulls up the mask, it’ll smear the blood. I’d have to put the makeup on you, then we carefully put the mask on to not smudge it, then lift it up and let it smudge a little on purpose. And it might not look right anymore, since it isn’t real.”

“Shit,” Jordan swore, “you’re right.”

“Let’s try it, first,” suggested Riley.

He sent Kris to the barn to get Jordan’s mask, which she’d hidden there with the ruined clothing, and by the time she got back, they were making progress. It took two makeup tests, with photos taken with Jordan’s’ smartphone and loaded to a computer for inspection on a bigger screen, to get it right. Since Jordan was a good sniper, they gave Riley a head wound at his temple. First Chloe applied an adhesive and let it get tacky. Then she put some wax on that, shaping it right, including using a pencil eraser to create the center depression of the bullet hole. Liquid latex helped everything stay in place and smooth the edges toward his skin. Then it was time for makeup and to repeat the process for Jordan, above the left eye.

Another problem was determining how much blood should have pooled around their heads on the hardwood floor from an exit wound they weren’t going to show, and how to make that realistic. Some internet research turned up a good recipe using water, food coloring, cornstarch, corn syrup, chocolate syrup, and powdered cocoa. They dabbled some of this on Jordan’s assassin’s mask. Then they gathered in the living room to stage the photos.

“This is a little too close to home,” Kris remarked in disapproval as she gazed at the wound on Riley.

Jordan pursed her lips, having not thought of the visual’s impact on his family. While she understood Kris’ attitude, she was also getting tired of it. She didn’t need any extra tension and wanted to tell Kris to knock it off. That she could be pissed some other time. There was work to be done. At least Kris was upfront about the attitude, but Jordan knew getting an attitude of her own wouldn’t help her here. She decided to tackle this head on.

She approached her and looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what else to say or do.”

Kris frowned. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“Name it.”

Kris let out a breath through her nose. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. And now’s not the time.”

Jordan nodded. “That’s fair.” Since there wasn’t much else to say, she stepped away and began, “Before we do this, I want to transfer the money Thomas paid me, just in case he can somehow get it back from my account after he thinks I’m dead and won’t notice.”

Riley chuckled at the phrasing. “Where are you gonna put the money?”

“I have other accounts I can use.” She paused and gave him a look. “Maybe I should give half of it to you, since he paid me to, you know...”

Riley cocked an eyebrow. “Interesting. Not sure I want it. Blood money, likely from a terrorist.”

Jordan nodded. “I understand, but it can be useful. At the least, you can donate it to charity or something.”

“Good point. Let’s do that.”

“Okay. Let me transfer it to you and then we can do that later, after the mission.”

“Wait,” said Kris, “that’s going to cause some scrutiny you’ll want to avoid.”

“The donation?” Riley asked.

“No,” she began, “a deposit of that amount. I have an MBA, remember? I know you can’t just do that without people looking into where it came from, meaning scrutiny on Jordan. And you.”

“Oh that’s right. I remember,” Jordan said.

“Remember from what?” Kris’s eyes narrowed.

Jordan made an apologetic face. “The file on Riley had some info on all of you.” Seeing Kris look even more annoyed, if that were possible, she added, “Sorry. Again.”

“What else did it say about me?” Kris folded her arms.

“Not much, including why you have an MBA when you work with horses.”

“Because I make sure all the businesses we run are up to snuff.”

“Smart.”

“I know.”

Giving compliments wasn’t going to get her anywhere, so Jordan took out her phone and got on with transferring all of the money to another of her accounts. One million dollars, half of it a down payment for Riley, and half for the second target, which turned out to be herself. “You know, if I play this right, I could get another half million from him for finishing the job on you.”

Riley laughed. “And here I thought we were getting along so well.”

She smiled. “I mean we stage the photo of you and I send it with my phone, telling him to deposit the money. Once he does, I confirm receipt and that’s the last text from me. I transfer that money, too. Then we’ll act like Jake shot me while I was doing that, and take the pic of me with
his
phone.”

“Clever,” Kris acknowledged, wryly adding, “I’m not the only one who knows how to run a business, it seems.”

“Are you sure you want that money?” Quinn asked sternly.

Jordan needed money to start a new life, though she already had a decent amount. “I think the important thing is to take the money from Thomas, more than us having it. It’s another half million he could use on someone else.”

“He’ll never get the chance,” said Riley, “but point taken. Let’s do it.”

“First,” began Jordan, “let me tell Thomas I’m in position. Grab Jake’s phone.”

“Ready,” said Riley, stepping beside her with it in hand. He leaned on the arm of the living room couch beside her. She pulled up the messenger app and sent an initial text to Thomas.

Jordan: Ready

Thomas: Wait

J: How long?

T: Couple min

J: K

Moments later, a text appeared on Jake’s phone, with Riley answering.

Thomas: She’s ready. R u?

Jacques: Y

T: Giving go ahead

J: K

Next came texts to Jordan again.

Thomas: Go ahead

Jordan: K. Photo next

T: Great

“We have twenty minutes, at most,” Jordan announced, putting the phone down. “Might take that long to get a good shot, get down here, and take a photo. Let’s get started.”

Riley agreed and chose a location away from a rug they didn’t want to ruin. He flopped down as naturally as he could, as if killed on his feet, then relaxed his whole body to let it end up in a final position. Kris approached with a turkey baster full of the fake blood, which she’d been stirring to keep from congealing. Riley lifted his head and she squeezed out a healthy amount into the center of where his head had lain. Once finished, she stepped away and Riley put his head down in the ooze. He closed his eyes and everyone but Jordan stepped out of the room just in case a shadow got picked up in the shot. She took over forty photos—some headshots, some full shots, and from different angles, intending to send only one or two.

“Okay, Riley,” she began, “don’t move. Let me pick the best one.” She flipped through them and found a suitable death pic, then attached it to a text message on her phone and hit send. “Here goes.”

Jordan: Proof

Thomas: Great work

J: Thx. Pay me :)

T: Hold on

“Shit,” said Jordan, frowning. The curse prompted Riley to open his eyes but otherwise stay still.

“What?” Quinn asked, coming forward.

“Nothing major,” Jordan answered, flipping to her bank account app. “I just realized he can stall on paying the rest, thinking I’ll be dead in a second. He probably won’t pay. No big deal. Otherwise, he’s accepted the proof. We’ll just need to do the other pic in a minute.”

“Okay,” Quinn replied. “Don’t move, Riley.”

The Marine grunted his agreement, as Jordan turned back to her phone.

Jordan: Speed it up

Thomas: Coming

Jordan doubted that but decided to let it go. The other half million would be nice, regardless of the reason for sending it, but she wasn’t going to stall staging the photos over it. A message came through on Jake’s phone, which Riley had left on a table. Jordan picked it up.

Thomas: She’s done. Do it now

Jacques: My pleasure.

“Asshole,” she said, putting the phone down. “Okay everyone, time to stage my death. Riley close your eyes.”

“Yes, dear,” he joked.

Jordan took the position they’d decided she’d be in. With help from Chloe, she carefully put the mask over her head. Then she flopped down much the same way Riley had, five feet from him on the floor. Once set, she lifted her head and Kris dribbled a pool of fake blood behind her skull on the floor. Then Jordan settled her head in it. Chloe carefully pulled the mask up above Jordan’s hairline, letting it lightly touch the wound so that a smear of blood brushed across the forehead, but the fake bullet wound stayed in place. Jordan closed her eyes.

“That looks pretty convincing,” remarked Kris, grudgingly.

“Yeah, it does,” agreed Chloe, sounding more pleased with her handiwork as she and Quinn got out of the room.

“Time for pics.” Kris grabbed Jake’s camera and took a few dozen, some focused just on Jordan and others showing both of them. She and her sister then selected the best ones and concluded they were set.

“Okay guys,” Chloe began, “time to rise from the dead.”

The two victims got up and used a towel to wipe some of the fake blood from the backs of their heads, where it had matted their hair. Quinn then began mopping up the floor while the snipers looked at the photos, nodding their approval.

“These are great,” said Riley, eyes gleaming. “Let’s send one of just you and one of both of us.”

“Good idea.” Jordan opened the messenger app and sent the two best shots.

Jacques: The bitch is done

Thomas: Great!

J: Leaving now. Check in later. Few days. Going dark

T: Great work!