Cain ( Underworld Mafia Romance 1)

“What are you thinking?” Cain asks me.

I put my cup down. “That hired killers are the worst.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I know there are a lot of monsters out there, but hired killers are the worst.”

“Worse than terrorists? Than men who beat their wives and children? Than leaders who turn a blind eye while their people kill each other?”

I frown. I can’t believe he’s arguing with me on this. Then again, he does have a point. Well, so do I.

“Hired killers kill for sport,” I point out.

“Do they?” Cain asks me.

“Yes.” I nod. “They enjoy taking life and have absolutely no remorse. I know, because I’ve had the misfortune of talking to a few.”

“Is that so?”

He doesn’t seem to believe me.

“Why?” I ask him. “Have you met some yourself?”

“Yes,” he answers. “And I’ve met worse.”

“Terrorists? What exactly do you do, again?”

Maybe I should have asked sooner.

“I’m a private investigator,” Cain says.

“Oh.”

I thought he was CIA.

His dark eyes narrow. “You sound disappointed.”

Was I that obvious?

“No.” I shake my head. “Just surprised. I thought you’d… well, you seem to have… more training.”

“I was a soldier once.”

“Ah.”

That explains why he’s good with guns. And why he said he’s seen worse. I bet he’s been through hell, watched his friends die, watched children die, nearly died himself. He must think I’m a frail songbird who lives in a gilded cage.

“I’ve had my fair share of hell,” I tell him.

I never thought I’d sound so proud saying it.

“I’ve seen my share of monsters. I’m telling you, those killers I met, they gave me the creeps.” I suppress a shiver. “Hopefully, I never have to talk to one again.”

Cain says nothing as he takes another sip of coffee. I wonder if he still disagrees with me, if he still thinks I’m a spoiled brat. Does he hate me now?

“Have I said something to offend you?” I ask him.

“You know, soldiers are hired killers, too,” Cain tells me. “They are trained to kill, paid to kill, ordered to kill, by men who do not always have noble intentions.”

So I have offended him.

“But they only kill those who are threats to peace and freedom,” I tell him. “Not people who rich people think are a threat to their peace of mind or are simply in their way. By the way, those are monsters, too, no doubt. But they’re cowards. They don’t really have the balls to kill. Without hired killers, they would stop at wishing someone dead and then there would be no killing.”

Cain says nothing.

I draw a breath. “Anyway, soldiers and hired killers are not the same thing.”

“Because hired killers work for monsters and soldiers don’t?” Cain asks.

I sigh. I’m getting tired of this argument. It’s too serious, not to mention completely unnecessary.

Why are we arguing about hired killers and soldiers when my life is in danger?

“Let’s go back to the matter at hand, shall we?” I steer the conversation back on course. “So there’s a hired killer out to kill me?”

“Yes,” Cain answers.

“And do you know why?”

“Because you know too much.”

My eyebrows furrow. “About?”

I know a lot of things. World history. National parks. Calculus. Greek mythology. Types of cheese. How to render a man unconscious in three moves or less.

“Criminal dealings,” Cain says.

I nod. “I see.”

That, unfortunately, is another thing I know a lot about.

“You mean someone doesn’t want me poking my nose into their business and digging up their dirt?”

“Exactly.”

Makes sense. That was my initial suspicion, too.

“And whose criminal dealings are we talking about here, exactly?” I ask him.

“Whose criminal dealings are you looking into?” he answers my question with one of his own.

I don’t answer. I don’t trust Cain that well. I still don’t know who he really is or why he’s here.

“Do you work for them?” I ask him instead. “Did they hire you?”

“If I worked for them, why would I save your life?”

Fair enough. But he still hasn’t told me anything.

“So who do you work for, then? Why are you here?”

“I’ve been asked to look for someone,” Cain says. “And I nearly found him tonight. If I had gone to him first instead of you, I might have already gotten him.”

“You mean the killer?”

Cain nods.

“What do you want from him?” I ask him curiously.

“Just answers to questions.”

I grip the hairs at the nape of my neck. “Let me get this straight. You were asked to investigate someone and that someone ended up being the man who was sent to kill me because I’m being a tad too nosy?”

“Yes,” Cain tells me. “We should find him and get to him before he gets to you. Again.”

“We?” I look at him with creased eyebrows.

Since when have we been in this together?

“Yes. I’m after him anyway, and now you’re after him, too, right? So we should work together.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going after him. So what if I get rid of this killer? More will be sent my way. I’m going after the people pulling the strings, the big bosses, the ones who put out the contracts and make the deposits.”