“We’ll postpone the rendezvous later,” Xavier says. “You and Christian are the closest so go scope it out.”
I scowl, “What?”
“I know you can get in and out easily.”
I can, but a slap-dash mission like this? I want to tell him to get it together… but I don’t. I bite my tongue and look up at the ceiling, “How much time do we have?”
“He’s heading out to a book convention out of state in the afternoon. He won’t be back until tomorrow.”
I close my eyes with new exasperation. I dislike how he’s done this. Not to mention how he’s giving me orders when he’s one ofmymen…
But this was Xavier’s price. When it comes to the Harvester—
I won’t get in his way.
He’ll lead the mission to cut him down.
And he’ll have full utilization of all my assets.
Five years and this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to finally giving him the Harvester’s head.
“Fine,” I reply genuinely and open my eyes. “I know you’re hungry for blood, Xavier, but you’ll need to be a lot more cunning when hunting your food. Do better. Send me the location.”
I hang up and I can only hope my words get through to him.
When people meet my team, they only seemymethods. They call me crazy.
Only a handful have realized the truth.
That each of my members possesses their own voracious madness.
By the time I arrive at the location, Xavier has sent all the digital files on our shadow to my phone.
Philip Warren. Single. South Asian. A self-employed software engineer who acts as a consultant for some major companies across the state. One would think he’d be able to afford a more luxurious home with the size of his CV, but the house staring at me now tells me he’s not interested in living lavishly or drawing attention to himself.
An average guy in an average neighbourhood with an average home.
How convenient.
But if this is our guy, then what does he do with the money he makes… and the money his backer gives him?
The thought is unsettling, but I’m jumping too far too quickly. We only have speculation now. We needevidence.
Baal wouldn’t even lend me his driver, the selfish bastard, so I’d had to call Wesley and wait for him to get through afternoon traffic, then sit through another forty-five minutes of driving before getting here.
The neighbourhood is small and clean, with apartment complexes and houses sitting on either side of the main road. Cars are parked everywhere on the curb, so Wesley does the same and pulls over with the rest of them, two houses away, while I attempt to call Christian on his cell.
The phone rings eight painfully slow times before going to voicemail and I blink.
I try again… and there’s another six rings of me drumming my finger on my knee before it goes to voicemail again.
I would love to see my own emotions to determine if I’m irritated or anxious, but whichever the case, a tense feeling is creeping into my muscles.
Xavier would’ve told him to meet me here.
How far out was he? Who brought him?
My knee begins to bounce as I call his number again for the third time.
