Instead, I was pretty sure some gremlin shoved a bunch of rocks in the cushions. I tossed and turned for half the night and ended up with my feet on the coffee table and an old black and white Western on TV.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Fucking hell. I was tempted to go back into Elise’s room and climb into bed with her. Maybe she’d flip out but she’d probably get over it sooner or later and then I could sleep. Or maybe I’d make it worth her time first then she’d be too satisfied to argue.
But no, I was a gentleman.
Well, not a gentleman. More like, I didn’t want to freak her out and make her run away.
So I stayed on the couch.
Around three in the morning, after the black and white cowboys turned into black and white detectives, I felt myself starting to drift. I let my mind unfocus and let sleep start to drag me under.
Until there was a sound on the stairs outside her door.
My eyes flipped open. I heard ringing in my ears as I abruptly snapped back into consciousness. I leaned forward, heart racing, hand on my gun.
I heard it again. Definitely someone on the stairs. Someone climbing up toward the apartment.
I got up, moved fast. I hadn’t had time to set any traps or any security. I figured the family wouldn’t send someone so fast. Even hitmen needed a few days to get their shit together.
But I heard the noise again. A little creak.
I thought about waking Elise up and getting her ready to run. Instead, I stayed near the door and kept still. I took a deep breath and slowed my heart down, mastering my own nerves and forcing my body to calm itself. It was a technique I’d used a thousand times and it never failed to keep me calm.
That was one of the reasons I was the best. I never panicked and never lost it under pressure.
Killing for a living required a steady hand. Shit went wrong all the time. No matter how much you planned, something always came up. Mike Tyson once said, everyone has a plan until you get punched in the mouth.
He was damn right. Plans were only good up to a certain point. Beyond that, when the shooting started, when the screaming started, or the fighting and running and crying, you had to be steady. You had to think fast.
Otherwise, you’d get fucked sideways.
The floor outside her door creaked. I pressed my ear against the wall and listened. I thought I could hear breathing.
Someone touched the doorknob.
I nearly threw myself back. I nearly made a noise.
But I kept silent.
I heard scratching against the knob then it began to wiggle. It took me a second to realize that whoever was out there was picking the lock.
And making a ton of noise.
Jesus, what a fucking amateur.
I hoped Dante hadn’t sent one of his own out to finish the job. I really didn’t want to hurt any of his guys if I could avoid it. While we disagreed about the importance of this particular job, I did like Dante and the boys well enough. I almost counted him as a friend.
The intruder took two minutes to pick the lock, which wasn’t bad. He turned the knob and pushed the door. The deadbolt up top held. I heard him curse softly then begin to pick that lock. I almost laughed but kept myself in check.
He got the deadbolt faster, less than a minute. It thunked open and I thought it would wake up Elise.
The intruder pushed the door open again. I was hidden on the other side of the frame.
The chain held him this time.
He cursed. I halfway expected him to give up.
Then two gunshots smashed the silence.
I kept myself pressed flat against the wall as he blew the chain off the door. He kicked it open the rest of the way and came into the room fast. I stayed behind the door, gun up and ready.
The intruder was dressed in black head to toe. He wore a black ski mask, black gloves, black jeans, black jacket. His gun swept the living room, swept the kitchen, then turned to move down the hallway.
I stepped out from behind the door when he turned in my direction and froze.
“Drop it,” I said.
His weapon was pointed toward the hallway. I was flat against the wall, my gun aimed at his skull.
“You’re making a mistake.” His voice was familiar. I squinted at him.
“Bennigan?”
The intruder threw himself to the side toward the kitchen table. He fired two shots but both went wide. I dove forward and rolled into the kitchen. The counter separated us and I heard him scramble to his feet. I kept low, just under his sightline and jumped up at the far end.