The Hitman

The Confrontation

Brook Aldridge's POV

"I need everybody we've got! Covert agents, officials, even the guys in training. I want all eyes on that footage for anything we can figure out."

The agent beside me nodded and walked off. I sighed and stared out the floor-to-ceiling window. Placing a hand on the cool surface, I rested my forehead against it. Those were my daughters....

"Brook?" a voice asked. Anderson.

I shook my head and my shoulders heaved up and down. "Lila and Henley, they must be so scared."

Anderson placed a hand on my shoulder. "Hey. We'll get them back, I swear. I will do everything in my power to bring them home safely."

She was just saying that. And of course she would. Because there was nothing else for her to say.

Lies. All of it. Everyone tells nothing but lies.

"Maybe we should just give Vincent what he wants," I whispered.

"Give the terrorists ammunition? Brook, you would be impeached! Worse, imprisoned. A traitor to the country," Anderson responded. She moved to look me in the eyes, searching.

I sighed. "To keep my daughters safe, anything."

Anderson paused. We stood in silence for a while, me staring out the window and her watching me. Finally, she spoke again.

"We will rescue them or die trying."

Nick Sievers' POV

An agent escorted me through several hallways until we stopped in front of a door. But before the man could open it, someone burst out from the inside.

Anderson.

The moment she saw me, her face contorted in fury and her hands curled into fists. God help me, there's nothing more dangerous than an angry woman.

"You!" she cried. In moments, she had fistfuls of my shirt in her grip and pressed me against the white wall.

Slightly shocked, I nodded. "Good deduction, Sherlock."

"Cut the sarcasm," she snarled. "You tried to kill Joel."

I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head. "Joel?"

She huffed. "Joel. As in Joel Conway."

I rolled my eyes. "Sweetheart, I'm a hitman. It's what I do."

She shook her head in disgust and turned away from me, heading down the hall.

Wait....

He was alive?

I frowned and called after her. "What do you mean, 'tried to kill' Conway?"

Anderson paused, then turned back around. She looked me up and down before shrugging and leaving.

Jay Adler's POV

Groaning, I opened my eyes to....

Something on top of me. I sat up quickly and yanked it off of me. A blanket. I frowned.

Slowly, I looked around. I was still in the car, but Nick had evidently left.

He attacked me.

Attacked me.

I remember that now. I huffed and grabbed the keys, still in the ignition. Like I said, he couldn't remember to do anything without me. Not even take the keys with him.

He's always been proud, that's for sure. He only tells stories that make him look good, strong, the epitome of a tough guy.

I opened the back door and walked around to the driver's seat with only the crunch of gravel to accompany my thoughts.

Take his father, for instance. The story he tells others is that he came into his father's house one day and killed him.

I opened the door and sat down, sighing as I gripped the worn leather steering wheel. As I recollected my thoughts, I absently rubbed my thumb over the wheel's seam.

What Nick doesn't tell others, what he told only me, is that he couldn't.

With the knife raised high above his father's head, Nick stopped. He looked into the eyes of the man he had come to hate, of the man who hated him.

And saw himself and everything he didn't want to become.

So Nick lowered the knife. He sighed and turned away, leaning against the kitchen table.

"Go," he commanded.

When he turned back around, his father was nowhere to be found.

And then I knew what I had to do. Nick needed help, more than he already had if he wanted to rescue his daughters.

I turned the keys in the ignition and sped off, pebbles spewing behind me.

I was going to see Nick's father.