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“The graphic artist is out of the way for a while. I don’t think either she, Gene, or that idiot art student suspected a thing during the presentation. While she’s working on her storyboards—or whatever the fuck they are—Thom can keep Wheeler occupied with bullshit requests to keep him out of our hair. Shit is heating up on the dark web as far as product movement goes. The fuck we need any kind of complications at the moment.”
“Got it.”
“And keep your goddamn dick in your pants, brother. I know Brooke is good-looking as hell—and we’d probably all like the opportunity to drill her—but that pussy needs to stay out of reach while we’re executing. When we’ve closed up shop and have hightailed it out of here, maybe you can fuck her before disappearing.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“No harm, no foul, Jack, if he can corner her in a place where they won’t be seen. He can hit that, then vanish. We are still not near that point, however. In the meantime, keep your ears peeled in the Purgatory forum and let me know what you hear about the last shipment of goods we sent from our last hit. I don’t want to get caught with my pants down or be tied to that shit onanylevel. And fucking avoidThe Shadowas much as possible. Confine your conversations to a private room. The fuck we need herorher underlings up our ass.”
“Roger that.”
“So far, all indications are this will be our most successful haul ever. And I, for one, will be damned if anything will be allowed to fuck it up. I don’t carewhowe have to kill to pull this off…not with what’s at stake this time.”
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Staring at the computer screen in her home office, Drew Hollister, the counterintelligence team lead of Armstrong Protection Services—known asThe Shadowon the dark web—thought about the surprising conversation she’d just had with a woman she had been observing on and off in Purgatory over the past year or so. Sitting back, her arms folded over her chest in the glow of her monitor, the only light in the room, Drew assessed the situation, calculating where she should go from here.
Until now, the APS team lead had paid scant attention toCyb3rmoon—the woman’s screen name—who had little to say and had always given every indication she was merely one of the hangers-on who was attracted to bad boys. Noticing that she seemed to have her sights set on Robert Hoyt—Rob Kilgore—from Reflex, Drew kept one eye out, as she always did, but didn’t find the situation overall merited much interest. At the same time, Kilgore ignoredCyb3rmoonand instead prowled around the Purgatory dark web forum, talking to others seemingly at random before disappearing into private chats.
Although Drew didn’t make a lot of personal appearances on the dark web—leaving the bulk of any communication to her second, Dara Cochran—she occasionally made a circuit through the main Purgatory forum to ensure those who inhabited the space were aware that she was always watching. While there were more than a few forums on the dark web,The Shadowabsolutelyruledthe Purgatory forum, with a reputation that struck terror in the hearts of anyone brave enough to hang out there.
Not long after Armstrong Protection Services had formed, when Drew was focusing on creating their counterintelligence processes with her crew, Dara had come to her regarding a situation with an acquaintance of hers that had intrigued her. Running into him one day, Dara had listened while the man had vented about a thief who had stolen a considerable amount of money from him and his organization. Unable to find this guy—and with going to the authorities not an option because his business wasn’t exactly legal—his only recourse had been for them to run the thief to ground themselves, then shake him down for the money.
Which would have been all well and good, except the motherfucker was in hiding and no one could seem to find him. From all reports, he was still in the area, but Dara’s acquaintanceand his organization kept coming up empty every time they pursued a lead on his possible whereabouts. Curious, Dara had talked to Drew, who had in turn gone to Bryn, with the two of them deciding to look into the missing man a little further.
What they had found had pissed them off beyond belief. On top of a shitload of sneaky, underhanded dealings they had discovered, the missing man was also two years in arrears of child support payments and routinely stole cash and possessions from friends and family—including his seventy-eight-year-old mother, who was on a fixed income. Agreeing that there was nothing good or salvageable about the prick, Dara went back to her acquaintance on Drew’s behalf and told him she knew someone who could find and deliver the missing guy to them. For a price.
And thus,The Shadowwas born.
Five days after negotiations had been concluded, the lowlife’s beaten, unconscious body had been dumped on the front porch of Dara’s acquaintance, courtesy of Drew and her crew. What had happened to him after they had delivered him to their “client” was not their concern, they had decided—even though they’d made it clear when they took the contract that revenge murder would result in swift retribution. Now, with a reputation of being able to find and deliver anyone in the seven-county Tampa Bay area APS covered,The Shadowand her crew turned down far more work than they accepted because of the strict contract criteria they had put into place.
At the core of what they provided, the target had to be someone who—in addition to any money they had stolen—had an easily verifiable, grievous history against a woman or women. Before any serious negotiations took place, it was also made extremely clear to those who were interested in their services that planning the death of the target upon their capture meant serious reprisal. With the money they earned on their completedcontracts, Drew and her team put a good portion of it into a special account for the victims who had been harmed or abused, arranging to give them anonymous donations as compensation—especially for those with children.
The Purgatory forum on the dark web had originally been established as a control center forThe Shadowand her associates, although the business conducted there had gone far beyond that which only involved women. Now, there were myriad illicit services offered, from buying and selling illegal weapons to exchanging stolen information such as credit card and bank account numbers to offering hacking services to advertising ransomware and other extortion-related technologies to gambling—to money laundering.
WhenCyb3rmoonhad directly approached her one night—with no Kilgore or anyone else associated with Reflex in sight—Drew had been surprised. Although plenty of women had tried over the years to enticeThe Shadow, for various reasons, it was well known in Purgatory that Drew didn’t play. That this woman had struck up a chatty conversation with her meant she was either completely clueless or was convinced she could change Drew’s mind.
Hardly.
“It seems a bit on the quiet side at the moment, don’t you think? How are you tonight, Shadow?”Cyb3rmoonhad inquired.
“Busy. What can I do for you?” Drew had been direct and to the point as she’d typed her response, keeping her eye out for Kilgore or one of his associates.
The huff on the other end of the computer had been almost audible. “That’s not very neighborly, is it? Actually, I had a question I wanted to ask you. If you aren’t too‘busy,’that is.”
Unable to keep the corner of her mouth from tilting up at the woman’s bold snark, Drew had typed back, “Ask. Although you should know I won’t guarantee an answer.”
“Fair enough.” There had been a pause, then, “I find a couple of players in here rather…intriguing. No need for you to bite my head off and tell me it’s none of my business either, Shadow. I know the score. But it seems to me a woman of my…talents…may well be what they could be looking for. If you know what I mean.”
Exasperated, Drew had been about to shut her down, not interested in playing matchmaker between a bunch of thugs and a woman who was quite clearly looking for a hookup, whenCyb3rmoonhad casually added, “Of course, sometimes a…‘reflexive’conversation, shall we say…can be just what the doctor ordered. I adore spontaneity. Don’t you?”
Drew had frozen, pausing mid-keystroke asCyb3rmoon’s words had landed with a thud.
“Reflexive”? What. The. FUCK?
Her mind racing at the play on Reflex’s name, Drew had swiftly typed back, “I have no time for games,Cyb3rmoon. Impulsive gets you killed in my line of work. A bit of advice: be careful with the gamesYOUdecide to play. The knight you are looking for may end up with feet of clay. If you know whatImean. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Trusting thatCyb3rmoonhad caught the Reflex partner’s name in her response, Drew had abruptly signed off.
