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Liars’ Legacy

Title Page

Liars’ Legacy

TAYLOR STEVENS

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Copyright Page

KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2020 by Taylor Stevens

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: TK

Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-1-4967-1865-5

First Kensington Hardcover Edition: January 2020

ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1866-2 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-1866-6 (ebook)

Dedication

To Kae and Kim,
who showed me what real sibling rivalry looks like.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

DFW International Airport
Dallas–Fort Worth, Texas, USA

HOLDEN

IF ONE MEASURED KILLERS BY APPEARANCE, SHE WASN’T MUCH OF A threat, the young woman with her back to the pillar near the boarding line, short black hair, pale and petite, head bobbing slightly to some inaudible beat while thumbs, polished blacker than her hair, tapped a phone screen with game-playing rhythm.

But if one measured killers by appearance, he’d already be dead.

He didn’t know her, knew only what she was.

Knew she wasn’t alone, and that she’d come for him.

Another time, a different objective, he’d have laughed at the irony.

Of all the contracts and all the death, of all he’d lived and survived, this—the first time the job meant more than work, the first time he had an emotional stake in the outcome—this was when they came for him.

Any move he made to defend his life carried an equivalent risk of alerting those he hunted to his presence, and that he couldn’t afford.

The interference felt like raw personal theft.

One whiff of what he’d caught here and it wouldn’t matter who the woman and her team had come to kill.

His targets would bolt. They’d vanish.

By the time he tracked them down again, he’d be too late.

Kill or be killed at thirty thousand feet and his hands were tied.

He leaned back, tipped the fedora low, stole another glance at the pillar.

He didn’t know the woman but knew she’d die before he did.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an unconscious gesture that told him she could feel herself being watched. She had good instincts.

His gaze moved on across the boarding area, taking in body language and facial expressions from beneath the brim, just as it had in the hours leading up to departure, and as it had when she’d first strolled in, head high, cold and aloof, wheeling a thousand-dollar luggage set that pegged her somewhere between stripper and rich kid.