Darius couldn’t help grinning, his fondness bittersweet amidst his secrets. He typed back:tell him I’ll be back to torture him later.
After a dozen grinning emojis from James arrived, Darius headed into the building. Maybe running out of the house wasn’t the right move. The sight of Felicity’s face had spooked him bad, but what he needed was grounding. Perspective.
Nothing had changed. And it was hypocritical to accuse James of recklessness, then hide the moment he learned something important.
Darius sighed, laughing at himself. He was already in the building, so he may as well inspect the apartment and make sure all evidence of his illicit occupation was cleaned up. Couldn’t be too careful. Then he would turn around and tell the others everything. Should probably call Bishop over, too.
This wasn’t just Darius’s past anymore. He didn’t have the right to keep it from James. It would be a difficult conversation, but he’d survive.
As long as they kept James away from the firearms.
But when he reached his apartment, Darius’s blood froze. The door wasn’t locked.
Someone had been here, and they wanted him to know that.
Reflex put his gun in his hand. A glance around the hall showed nothing else amiss. Trusting his own speed and instinct, Darius shoved the door open. It swung against the wall with a crack.
No other sound or movement. Darius slipped into the room, gun poised, to find everything as he left it. All the personal effects cleared out. Just a few items of furniture he wasn’t keeping.
Guard up, Darius searched the apartment. It was a familiar, thorough pattern, taking him through the office and bedroom. The balcony made a more difficult—but still possible—point of entry and escape.
The pattern ended in the kitchen. Darius smelled it before he entered the room, but the sight was still jarring.
A corpse sat in his kitchen, bound to a dining room chair.
Darius exhaled slowly. The angle of the man’s neck meant he didn’t have to check for a pulse. Darius took the time to finish his inspection—no ambush waiting in the pantry. Then he backtracked to secure the front door and balcony.
Only then did he return to assess the dead man.
Three fingers recently missing from the left hand. Two from the right. The fatal blow was probably the gunshot to his chest. No blood on the floor, and no smell of disinfectants. The man was tortured and killed somewhere else, then staged here after death.
His face was untouched. White man in his thirties with floppy brown hair. Decidedly ordinary, but the sight spiked Darius’s pulse even higher than the unlocked door.
Terry. The man James was searching for was dead in Darius’s kitchen.
An unfamiliar phone rang.
The cheap burner phone sat on the counter, where Darius’s coffeemaker used to sit. Darius picked it up, dread mingling with strange nostalgia. This was how Felicity always assigned jobs, or as she called it, asked favors.
Though usually just with the burner phone, no accompanying body.
Darius picked up on the third ring and said nothing.
After a beat of silence, Felicity’s whiskey-smooth voice poured over the line. “Hope you’ve been well. I have one final favor to ask.”
Darius’s grip tightened. Months ago, he would have relished hearing that. Felicity was true to her word, whatever her other faults. If she said this was the last job, she meant it.
“Thought you were going to hold that over me forever,” Darius said, a smile in his voice. “Aren’t I your favorite student?”
“Even my favorite has to graduate someday.” Her familiarity was always a threat. “After this favor, you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll forget your sister’s address—and that boy you’ve been messing around with.”
Darius concentrated on analysis, not guilt. He could beat himself up for carelessness after he handled this. “Laying it on a little thick. How bad is this job?”
“Well within your abilities,” Felicity said, the flattery unnecessary. “Your friend put a tracking device on an acquaintance of mine. That’s the man sitting in your kitchen right now.”
Goddammit, James. “I see he’s learned his lesson about letting someone track him.”
“As have his colleagues.” Felicity sighed. “However, I don’t appreciate such rude behavior from the Zhou boy, either.”
