"Security system's looking real friendly right about now," Cyrus's smug as fuck voice crackles through the earpiece. "Give me five more minutes and this place will be blind."
"Copy that." I flip to Jinx's channel. "What's your twenty?"
"Alley behind the building, looking pretty." His voice is light, almost cheerful, like we're planning out a picnic instead of about to ruin some asshole's night. "No movement on the fire escape. Our boy's probably passed out drunk by now."
Good. Drunk makes it easier.
I lean back against the headrest, keeping the binoculars trained on Adam Chessier's window. Thirty-eight years old, trust fund baby turned day trader, with a hobby that involves stalking twenty-two-year-old barista Sophia Newton home from her job at the coffee shop. Taking pictures through her windows. Sending her flowers with notes about how she'd look pretty in a casket.
Fucker even went through the trouble of catfishing her for nudes he's been threatening to spread all over the Internet if she doesn't do what he wants.
Real charming.
Sophia came to us three weeks ago with two hundred dollars in crumpled bills and a folder full of evidence the cops wouldn't touch. Stalking only counts to them when the victim ends up in a body bag.
We usually charge ten grand minimum for this kind of work. But something about the way she held that folder, like it contained pieces of her soul, got to me.
Guess I'm going soft.
Movement, Tank signs, pointing toward the building's entrance.
I swing the binoculars down just in time to catch Adam stumbling through the lobby doors. He's wearing a designer suit, and he's got that particular swagger that comes from never facing real consequences for anything even when three sheets to the wind.
That's about to change.
"Target's home," I report. "Cy, you ready?"
"Born ready, boss. Just say the word."
Boss. I still get a kick out of that. Four years ago, we were just a bunch of trailer park kids with anger issues and nowhere to put it. Now we're something else. Something that matters. Something that makes the real monsters check under their beds at night.
"Tank, you're with me. Jinx, start your approach. Cy, kill the lights."
The building's security system powers down with an audible hum. Emergency lighting kicks in, lighting everything up in that deep red glow that makes even angels look like demons.
Perfect.
Tank and I slip out of the car, moving like shadows across the empty street. We know how to be ghosts when we need to be.
Always knew how to slide between the cracks of a world that never wanted us anyway. Might as well turn it into a superpower.
The lobby door's backup locks click open as we approach. Cyrus again, making the impossible look easy. The elevator's dead, which means we're taking the stairs.
"Third floor," I whisper into the comm. "Everyone converge on my signal."
We climb in silence, Tank's boots barely making a sound despite his size. He's gotten good at that over the years, too.Allof us have gotten good at shit we never wanted to learn.
The hallway stretches out in front of us, polished floors and expensive art. Just one square foot of this place could buy the whole damn trailer park we grew up in. Apartment 3C sits at the end, light bleeding out from under the door.
I can hear music playing from somewhere. Guess the sound system's still powered. It's classical and pretentious, the kind of shit that probably makes this douchebag feel like he’s a supervillain even when he's taking a dump.
"In position," Jinx's voice whispers through the comm. He's at the fire escape window, ready to come through the back if our boy tries to run.
"Copy." I look at Tank, see the familiar cold focus in his dark eyes. "You ready for this, brother?"
He nods once, cracks his knuckles around those leather fingerless gloves. The sound echoes in the hallway like gunshots.
Tank was always massive. Even when we were kids, he towered over the adults, scared the shit out of people by virtue of existing. No one else sees through to the soft side he's never even tried to hide, but it's so contrary to the way he looks, the whole world is blind to it anyway.
