“Fuck our stake-out. This guy’s an easy kill. Let’s just get it over with.”
I’m lying, but I don’t think they can tell. I’ve gotten very good at lying over the years.
Happy Birthday, man! Thanks for being such a great friend.
Hey, how was your day?
So sorry your dad died. I’m here if you need anything.
All words a normal friend would say. I’ve gotten good atplaying the part.
Liam and Dane hurry to get ready too. Both of them have accepted that I’m the de facto leader. They pretty much accepted it the very first day of training, when we were just starting as initiates. I guess no matter how much I lie, something about me screamsI’m a killing machine.
They were right. I’ve made them millionaires.
Dane sticks in his bluetooth earpiece and settles at his place in front of the computer. Liam goes out with me, ready to give me info on who is who and what is what. Ready to note any danger sign, or cover up anything that needs covering up.
We head out into the biting cold air. It’s not much later than 4 p.m., but winter means darkness has fallen early. Jones doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who stays at work later than he has to, but even so, he’ll probably be around for at least an hour.
If we’d done the stakeout as we should have, we would know for sure. But whatever.
The insect fucks with my brain. Even hearing her last name is enough to make me go nuts. I need to quiet my fucking thoughts.
We walk hurriedly to the center of Astley, bowing our heads low to keep anyone from seeing us. My hoodie helps keep my face in the shadows. Meanwhile, Liam’s got a hat scrunched over his head. In the darkness, no one could see our masks unless they really looked, and it’s far too cold for anyone to show the least curiosity.
As a rule, anyway, Astley folks aren’t curious. When you live in the same town as Devil, you quickly learn that it’s a bad idea to ask questions.
But if we’d done the stake-out as we should have, we’d have had a game plan on how to get to Jones without being seen. Instead, we’re hurrying down Astley streets like the world’s two biggest idiots, dressed in our kill attire.
The words of Tragen echo in my brain, an uncomfortablerefrain. “You’re good, Quill, very good. But don’t get too comfortable. It only takes one bad contract to fuck it all up. Keep your guard up, soldier.”
I grit my teeth, well aware that this is exactly the kind of situation he was talking about.
Fuck it.
The earpiece in my ear is full of static in the snowy outdoors, and I have the uncomfortable feeling a snowstorm is drawing near. I hear Dane’s voice, saying something I can’t understand. “Hey. Wait. There’s…”
The rest of his words are muffled, and I’m too impatient to try to figure them out. I turn off the earpiece and rip it out. I catch just a glance of Liam’s worried face, looking pale even in the pale glow of the moonlight, as it’s reflected back at me from the police station window.
We’ve reached Jones’ final resting place. Without even exchanging the beginning of a plan with Liam—a plan we usually spend hours hammering out—I barge into the station, kicking open the door.
I’ve seen enough from the feed to know that apart from Jones, only Sophie is working here today.
She shrieks loudly as I grab her by the arm and push her to the side. Liam keeps her restrained as I stomp into the back office.
Fuck.
Jones isn’t alone anymore. I guess at some point he stopped jerking off to naked tits, and now he’s standing behind his desk as a woman chats with him. There’s a kid next to her who can’t be older than three.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. His family.
His family is about to watch him die.
A bead of cold sweat forms on my temple. If I’d been prepared, I’d have known his family was coming to visit him.
“Fuck, man,” breathes Liam behind me.
Then I hear him make a gutteral noise, the kind that tells me he just realized he fucked up. Forgot rule number two.
