“Yeah, seven months late. It’s quieter than a gnat farting at twilight, though.” Madi put a hand over his heart as if swooning. Then his smile reappeared, sly. “That’s like asking me to trust you with my testicles.”
“You have before,” Jonah pointed out drolly.
“Do you remember how to use it?”
Jonah nodded. “Well enough. You taught me, after all.”
“Are we talking about my testicles or my rifle?”
“Rifle. You didn’t teach me shit about your testicles. In fact, I think it’d be fair to say I taught you—”
“Right. Yeah. Anyway.” Madi cut him off with a wave of his hand, and Jonah buried his smile behind the rim of his glass. “What’s your distance?”
“Quarter mile probably, give or take.”
“You’ve got your own kit for that,” Madi pointed out, arching a brow.
“Yours is better.” A quarter mile distance was more than Jonah was used to. The last time he’d sniped someone from a rooftop, they’d been within a block.
“Mmm.” Madi grunted and refilled his glass. When he hovered the mouth of the bottle over Jonah’s glass, Jonah waved it away. There was a lot of night left, and he needed his head for a while longer. Madi set the bottle down with a shrug. “This sounds like a job that should’ve been given to me.”
Jonah didn’t disagree. He’d been surprised, himself. But the payout was phenomenal, and it was something he could accomplish with little trouble. If it’d been a diplomat rather than a mediocre crime lord, he would’ve passed. He had certain rules, and politicians fell in his no-go zone. Not so for Madigan. He loved the high-profile marks.
Jonah shrugged. “They asked me.”
“Who’s the client?”
“You know better.”
Madi’s smile turned rueful. “Once, you would have told me.”
“Maybe.” Jonah set his empty glass on the counter. “So, what do you want?”
Madi tossed back the vodka and set his glass aside before rubbing his palms together. In the ensuing silence, the kitchen faucet dripped at a steady interval and there was hushed rustling and more soft groaning from the bedroom as whoever Madi had in there shifted around.
“Heard some interesting news the other day.”
Jonah didn’t give a shit about news headlines, but he could be polite. He raised a brow.
“A little American hacker pissed off some Russians.”
Jonah felt his polite expression sliding from his face, and no matter how he struggled to keep it there, it was as if he’d lost control of the strings. He hated the resulting smugness in Madigan’s smile and would’ve been tempted to take his fist to it if he didn’t need something from him. And besides, the bastard probably would’ve liked it, anyway.
“Is he dead?” Even asking the question aloud made Jonah feel as if the air was being sucked from the room. He shouldn’t fucking care, but he did. Cas couldn’t be dead, though. Jonah was sure he would’ve heard already. For as much as he’d been urged to let Cas do what he was going to do, Jonah had still pressed his connections every few months for the first few years, tracking the boy’s hops and skips around the globe. He’d tapered off over the last couple of years, though, finally realizing that Cas had meant what he’d said in the note he’d left behind. Despite everything—the silence, Cas’s goodbye—some part of Jonah was certain if Cas had died, he’d have felt it in his bones somehow.
“Nah. He got lucky and got away.”
Jonah bristled but kept his mouth shut. Cas didn’t need a lucky getaway; he was better than luck. He was wily, quick on his feet, and calculating under pressure. Or, at least, he’d been capable of all of those things the last time Jonah had seen him.
“Not going to ask where he is?” Madigan tilted his head, studying Jonah with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
“You don’t know where he is, and I don’t care where he is.”
“How do you know?”
“Because ifyouknew where he was, that would mean he was dead, and you would’ve just told me that in the first place.” It was instinct, but Madi’s furrowed brow suggested Jonah was correct. Madi had always kept his Russian ties vague. Jonah had done the same with most of his. Less liability if someone tried to use them against each other. He’d done the same with Cas as well, or had attempted to. But whereas Madigan understood it as a practicality, Cas had taken it as an insult and a sign that Jonah didn’t trust him. “I don’t know anything about what he was doing, if that’s where you’re heading.”
“Haven’t heard from him lately?”
