Hook (A Hitman's Bait 2)

“Did Kit know your line of work was dangerous?”

“Yes.”

Song walked over to the only chair in the room and sat with his legs folded up under him.

“I never understood why someone would take another person’s life so casually, knowing how fragile it is. We can never come back once we die, Mr. Matthews.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed. If he knew what I did for a living, would he go running and screaming? Kit was such a special boy. True, he’d tried to run that night he realized what I was involved in, but he’d stayed and helped.

“Does he have any family?” Song asked.

“If he does, he didn’t talk about them.” Geoff was a hard man to read, and normally I liked to dig into the background of anyone who worked for me, but his qualities had stood out more than a need to know about his past sins. He was a loner, but more than that, he was loyal to a fault. He would take a bullet for you—and had done exactly that for Kit.

Those were the two things that I’d been told by a highly respected client in the government who I’d worked with over the years. He’d lived up to my expectations and more.

“That’s sad. How is he going to get better if no one tells him there are people who will miss him if he dies?”

Jesus. This boy asked tough questions that left me feeling dumb. I scratched my head. “Then maybe you talk to him.”

He smiled. “I should, shouldn’t I? Don’t you think that should be a job description? Talking to sick people who don’t have anyone to motivate them to get better?”

“And you’d do that?”

He nodded. “My mom always said I talked too much, but maybe I could put all that talking to good use. Maybe I’d chatter so much I could annoy patients right out of their coma. Don’t you think?”

A laugh startled out of me, cut short as guilt slammed into me. There was nothing funny about the current situation. Geoff was fighting for his life, and I hadn’t talked to Kit in thirty-six hours. Now was hardly the time to laugh.

Knuckles rapped on the door, and a man a few inches taller than me came in. He was as thin as he was tall. “Mr. Matthews?” he asked. “I’m Dr. Ricketts.”

“Yes, that’s me.” I shook his hand. We’d talked over the phone, but we hadn’t seen each other face-to-face yet. “I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything urgent.”

The doctor chuckled. “There’s always something urgent, but don’t worry about it. You wanted an update on your friend’s condition?”

“Yes. How long will he be in this coma?”

“We can’t say outright. There’s severe damage to a major blood vessel, and one of his lungs collapsed. We were able to fix both with surgery, but he has a long recovery ahead of him. If he comes out of his coma.”

“He’ll come out,” Song said softly. He was holding Geoff’s hand. “I’m going to drop by every day and talk to him until he wakes up.”

The doctor nodded. “Very well. Let’s all work together and do our part to help him heal. I’ll handle the medicine, and you keep the hope alive.”

“We will,” Song said. It sounded like a vow.

After the doctor left, I stood aside and listened to Song carrying out his promise to talk to Geoff.

“Hi, Geoff. You don’t know me, but I’m Song. It’s short for Songbird, but I thought all that was too cheesy, so I only go by Song now. I hope you don’t mind, but I plan to talk your ear off until you open your eyes, either happy to be alive or annoyed that I’ve been disturbing your rest. Anyway, please get used to my voice because you’ll hear a lot of it over the next few days.”

The boy prattled on. He hadn’t been kidding about his gift of the gab. My phone chimed, and I checked the message from Javier. Although I’d called him several times yesterday and today, he had never answered.

Javier: Will call in half an hour to speak with T. I trust he has no new injuries.

A video clip followed, and I tapped it, my heart pounding in my chest. Kit was strapped to a table, struggling to be freed. He was soaked and shivering, his eyes wild with fright. The video had no audio, but from the way his lips moved, he was begging them, “no more.”

Javier placed a white towel over Kit’s face. Kit’s body movements became even more frantic. No doubt this wouldn’t be the first time he’d felt the suffocating effects of being drowned. I stiffened as Javier took the jug someone passed him and poured water into Kit’s face.

The video stopped, but in my mind, continued the reel of Kit’s body jerking violently while slowly drowning.

I was going to kill Javier Grimaldo with my bare hands.