CHAPTER 1
Pip
I saton the edge of the rooftop watching as the men got out of the car. They were dressed the way these idiots always were. Fancy suits, slicked back hair, eyes that promised death and retribution.
None of it scared me.
I was a much bigger threat than they would ever be. After all, they were coming to meet me to handle their problems.
I was the person they wanted to see most.
Two weeks ago, I got a message on the burner phone I kept for odd jobs.
Unknown: 6996. Request.
It was the code I had people send when they were new and in need of services. It worked better for me than them typing“can you help me murder someone”over a line that could one day be compromised.
I waited a couple of days to reply. Didn't want to seem too eager. It had been quiet lately. I couldn't resist taking down the information and researching who was behind the text.
As I built my file on the client, I had another situation come up.
Goddamn pedophiles who wouldn’t stop hurting a little girl who lived next door to the place I’d set up shop for a bit. Her mother had passed away years ago and her father was a piece of shit who didn’t pay attention.
The night I heard her scream for help, I was up and out the door. I collected the men, then had the father contact his buddies.
One hour of poking at them turned into days. Time flew when you were having fun torturing people.
I made sure to get the girl into a safe place with a new family. My contacts were happy to do me a solid favor in return for discounted pricing. I was worth the effort for a judge to rush a ruling about child placement.
After the pedos were given their due, I sat amongst their lifeless bodies and dialed the man who had reached out.
"Hello?"
Bored now that I had no one to play with, I spat out, "You need my services?”
There was no introducing myself or any other kind of small talk. What was the point in that? The man wanted to hire me to commit murder. At least that's what I hoped he was doing. Protection jobs weren't really my bag. Not unless a kill could be guaranteed in the end.
There was nothing quite like blood on my hands. Or the scent of blood filling my sinuses. Ohhh, or coating my clothes. I wanted to be surrounded by the carnage. Needed to see the devastation of others and know that I had caused it.
That would come later,I promised myself. My focus needed to be on figuring out what this guy's angle was and if he was worth my time. My prices were high. I refused to settle for anything less than what I was worth.
"Yes, I am," he finally said after a stupid long pause. "I didn't think this was something we would discuss over the phone.”
I hummed. "Yeah, true, but meeting me in person is a bit of a task. Where are you?"
He immediately replied, "Las Vegas."
My intel had said the same. Good to know he wasn’t lying.
A delight tore through me at the mention of one of my favorite places to be. There was always trouble brewing in Vegas. Always someone needing my expertise. Always money to be made.
“I can be in Vegas in a week. I'll send you the address and time to meet. Don't be late, and you're only allowed to bring one person with you. If I think it’s a double cross or that you intend to kill me, I will murder you on sight. Understood?”
I gave my normal speech. He needed to understand that I didn't take well to betrayal. And I really fucking hated traveling for a job that didn't pull through.
“I understand. I will look for your message."
"Good," I told him. "And Pharrell, I expect you to bring money with you to the meeting. Consider it a good faith measure.”
