Final Curtain

Nate's POV

I thought I was going to spend the afternoon torturing some poor sap, pumping them for information, instead, information had been delivered on Aric's door step.

Literally.

An envelope carrying a paper with bold writing. It wasn't a ransom, it was a meeting place. A cafe in a busy part of Manhattan. Whoever was running this circus was smart. If they'd picked a deserted place I'd break bones as soon as I knew who was responsible.

Here, out in the open, I'd have to be restrained.

"I told you to leave it in the car." Aric hissed, eyeballing my right hand, stationed on the back of my jeans.

The gun was covered by a jacket, safety was on so I wouldn't lose my shit and accidentally shoot myself in the balls. Aric was just worried I'd shoot the son of a bitch we were meeting. If he showed up. Because we'd been here for twenty minutes now and nada.

I racked a hand through my hair.

"And since when do I listen to you?" I bit, sending a glare his way. It was supposed to make him melt.

My half-brother merely muttered touché. The smirk tugging at me would've shown if Aric didn't look pale. His eyes were fixed somewhere over my shoulder, his mouth slightly agape. Almost looked comical, only there was no laughter once I whirled, staring where he was staring.

More like gawking.

No. Fucking. Way. In. Fucking. Hell.

Mel believed in ghosts—she and Anna got scared out of their minds whenever they heard the G word... but... But I didn't. Never had. But walking in, striding like he'd just come from a relaxing spa-day, was Nolan. Dickhead half-brother to Melissa and Aric. Twin to deceased Riley King.

The guy me and Mel locked in a freezer after stabbing him in the back.

He was dead—supposed to be dead, because obviously, as he reached our table smiling enough to make me punch him, I knew somehow the fucker had gotten out.

"You two should see the looks on your faces. Priceless." Nolan cackled, sinking into a chair. I blinked, looking fleetingly at Aric, who was grinding his teeth. "...a coffee would be great. Black, please." I tuned in as he chatted with the perky waitress that had been hovering our table earlier.

He gave her a smile before she hurried away, placing his order.

"What's with the hat?" Aric broke the silence.

Nolan had on a Baseball cap, his brownish hair curled from underneath it. The specks of green in the guy's eyes sparked angrily, like he'd remembered who we were and what he was doing here. And so did I.

The reflex was fast, no one could have stopped me. My fist slammed into his jaw.

I pulled back to go again, problem was, Aric was ready this time. His chair pushed back as his hand sprinted for my wrist, gripping it. Circulation was quickly affected by the crushing grip. Still, I wanted to plow Nolan.

He was here—he'd taken her.

"Where is she you bastard? If you've touched a hair on her head I swear I'll—"

"Is everything okay...?" the waitress had come back and I looked to her, then around.

The whole cafe had stopped. Looking at us.

Nolan rubbed the reddening spot, staring funnily at me. Like all of this was just an elaborated joke, a game, and I was his toy. The desire to rip out his jugular grew.

"It's fine," he looked up at her. "He has a temper when he's hungry. Right? You should eat, Nate."

Nate.

This guy had a death wish. Seriously.

Aric's grip loosened when I breathed in and out ten times over, forcing my muscles to lax. I needed to keep cool. Nolan had Melissa. So for her, only her, I had to back down.

"Can I... bring you something to eat, then?"

Aric sat down looking every bit pleased with me. He was next on my punching list.

"No," I said gruffly. "I've lost my appetite."

Nolan flashed a quick smile before sipping the hot coffee. The waitress nodded confused and worried before sauntering off, this time, she didn't dare spy a glance.

"The whole point of picking a public place is so things like that don't happen. Or have you been reformed so long you forgot?" Nolan taunted, placing down the cup. "You might want to keep from shooting me, Nathaniel. If my people don't get a call from me in the next ten minutes, Melissa takes a bullet to the brain." Those words were like cold water. Shivers rocked my whole frame as my imagination played it out. "Not a pretty picture, is it?"

Curling a fist under the table, I forced myself to nod.

"They're looking for you," Aric started, taking Nolan's attention from me. "You're risking a lot to meet us. The cops could spot you."

"Always the perceptive one, big brother. But it's not the cops I'm worried about. It's the feds." FBI had been called in on the Order case. "Don't you want to know how I'm not dead?"

"No really, no." Aric said coldly. "What do you want?"

"So uptight," Nolan slumped on his chair, lazily licking remains of coffee off his lips. "I spent months in a hospital, bro, but I've done nicely catching up with your relationship status. How's Anna?"

I noticed Aric's jaw. It was hard, straight. Aric had never liked the twins. Why? It was anyone's guess. What I knew about him was lesser than I knew about art. And according to Melissa, I sucked at talking-art with her.

"Not your concern."

Nolan's tongue clicked. He sat straight, wrapping both hands around the steaming cup.

"I seem to recall a similar conversation. What was her name...?" Aric's green gems drilled holes in Nolan's forehead. "Wait, I remember. Violet."

Aric was tapping a finger on the table—nonstop. But other than that, he was the picture of calmness and composure. I knew enough ticks to know when someone was on the verge of exploding, though, and Aric was a ticking bomb nearing kaboom.

"This is about Melissa."

Nolan sighed, "Isn't it always?" Don't shoot him, don't shoot him... "Fine. Straight to the point. I really don't like how you've run the family business into the ground. Especially this," he tapped the cap's edge. "I can't even walk around without worrying someone will recognize me."

Aric smirked.

"Sorry, but not sorry. We can't do a thing about that."

"Oh, I know." He reached inside his jacket, pulling out a sizable dossier. It was brown and a name I'd never seen before greeted me. "I want something else entirely, dear brother. See, I can't take too many chances and the remaining Order members on the FBI's list are being forced to hide. It kinda puts a damper on my rehabilitation plan."

"Your what?" I pipped.

"I have a plan to get my Father's Organization back on track. I'm already taking care of recruiting fresh blood, people the FBI knows nothing about, getting new safe houses and in time, everything that was ours will be again."

"You're stoned," Aric laughed. "Do you honestly think people are going to forget that quickly about a massive crime Organization? You're bloody crazy, Nolan. Not to mention new recruits need training—and with the old members hiding you won't get anything done."

Nolan tsked, drinking a big gulp of coffee.

"That's where you two come in." Aric's arrogance slipped a bit. "I can't be active, not while this is still so fresh, neither can the older guys and to send the new ones in would just be suicide. I need someone who's experienced."

Gazing at his younger brother like a demented idiot, Aric swallowed thickly. I couldn't believe what I'd just head. Did this douche actually believe I'd do anything for him? He was off his freaking rocker.

But... Melissa. He has Melissa. Fear gripped my veins, making me cold as ice.

"That's why you took her? You're using her to blackmail us—"

"No. I needed to talk with my sister. Serious things that she'll gladly tell you after you take care of this." He slid the folder closer, my eyes jumped from it to hazel irises. "Go on, open it."

"What if we don't do what you want?"

"Then Melissa will never tell you anything again. Do this, she goes free and you'll know all about our little chat." Nolan shrugged. It was that simple, I thought. Did what he wanted or say goodbye to my girl forever. Choice seemed pretty easy—always was when it came to her. I always chose her. Aric shot me a warning glare, but my fingers curled on the folder and I flipped it open. It was information on a person, a woman.

ELAINE JACOBS

AGE 35

SINGLE

HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER

ADREESS: 24, MIDDAGH Street, BROOKLYN HEIGHTS

"That woman witnessed something she shouldn't last night." My fingers ached, like massive paper cuts had slashed skin. Any Assassin knew what happened to witnesses. "I want her taken care of."

Those words were too familiar, leaving bitterness on my tongue. They brought out memories that I never wanted, things I'd wanted to erase since Melissa. My adoptive Dad's voice rang clearly, like a backlash.

"He saw you," he'd said. "You need to put him down, Nate. He's not your friend, people like us don't have anyone."

He'd been talking about Sam. A guy I'd been close to in College. He'd seen me kill his girlfriend on Campus—not that Sarah had been the target, she'd pushed the drug dealer out of the way and ended up shot. Dead.

I told my Father I'd taken care of it, but I hadn't. I'd let him alone. That had been a big mistake because months ago, he'd finally made a move. Baiting me into a trap by using Melissa. I'd broken the Code years ago, letting Sam live and suffered the consequences—I'd broken the rules with Melissa, getting emotionally attached.

I'd broken rule number three, too. With Nolan.

If you kill someone make sure you do it right.

Obviously, I should've slit his throat before pushing him into the damn freezer. Consequences after consequences. John and Susan would be proud. Drew would've laughed.

"What did she see?"

"Does it matter?" No. It didn't. Honestly, the less we knew, the better. "I want this taken care of tonight. If it's not done, Melissa dies. And that won't be the worst of your problems, I promise."

Finishing up, he slapped the cup on the table, getting up.

"At two in the morning I'll contact you, you'll send me proof that you've handled business and she'll go free. Be home before you are."

He spun on his heel without another word. It wasn't until he was outside that my stunned ass woke up.

"He left without paying."

Aric's emerald eyes slit in disbelieve.

"That's what you're caught up in? Him not paying a stupid coffee?" Groaning, I lowered my face into my hands. I hated to admit it, but Aric was right. "Give me that."

He held out a hand, motioning for the file. I skidded it over the table.

"Gil Larson is probably his right hand," I said, brainstorming over the facts while Aric quietly read. "Carter is just a druggie who they found to do their dirty work. Nolan isn't risking his skin, clearly."

Carter was still chained in Aric's old basement. The easiest way to get rid of him—since he had no usefulness—was to drug him and drop him off in some ally. No way he'd remember any of it. Maybe he'd even die of overdose if I injected the right amount. He didn't deserve to live.

"Doesn't this bother you at all?"

I lifted my head. Aric slapped the dossier on the table, coursing a hand through dark hair, sighing massively.

"Which part?"

"All of it."

My jaw ticked, "Of course it bothers me. Your deep shit brother has my girlfriend." Thoughts of Melissa climbed into my mind, clambering all that was sanity, tangling me into the worst case scenarios.

My breathing itched.

Aric was quiet for a minute, head tilted aside as if he was reading something on my face. I couldn't care less if he saw weakness, pain was flaring from the depths of my soul. It was like stabbing jagged pieces of glass in my heart.

"I wasn't talking about the obvious," he started, quietly. "Nolan has always been a cocky son of a bitch, but he normally has reasons to be that way. If he's so sure that we'll be helping him restoring the Order even after Melissa is safe... He has something else against us."

Aric made perfect sense. I hated it.

"I don't care about that." Not right now. "We have a job to do." Standing up, I snatched the documentation off the table, heading outside leaving Aric to pay.

If I killed this innocent woman I'd be going against everything Melissa believed in. Everything I'd worked all these years for—I'd never actually killed an innocent, not on purpose.

Melissa was the shred of humanity left in me, though, and to let her go would be killing myself.

The choice had never existed.

Elaine Jacobs needed to die.