“What's the job?” I asked.
“It’s about Darien Harcourt. You know who he is, right?"
I scoffed. “The governor of New York? Yeah, Roman, I've heard of him.”
“Don't be an ass. You know what I mean. He’s one of us,” he said. “I’m sure you also recall his running mate, Justin Maier. Now the lieutenant governor.”
“Yup. Also one of us.”
“That’s right. Harcourt is campaigning for re-election in 2026 with Maier as his running mate again. But our eyes and ears have recently picked up on some weapons-grade sabotage and betrayal. From none other than Maier.”
My brows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Traitorous little prick has been selling secrets to the Russians.”
My nose wrinkled. “As in the mob?”
“No. Russiangovernment.”
“Ah.” My brows lifted. “So we’re talking about a traitor to the country, not just to the Club.”
“Yeah. And it gets worse. Once our guys realized he was up to some shady shit, they tapped his phone, and now we know that he’s not just doing it for the extra money,” Roman said. “He’s setting it up so that the treason will be discovered, but Harcourt will take the fall for it. After that, Maier will completely disavow Harcourt. Act like he’s totally shocked and dismayed. Never saw it coming, yada-yada.”
“Let me guess. He’ll then run on his own platform and become governor while Harcourt rots in prison?”
“Bingo. And from there, he’ll run for the presidency,” Roman said. “While operating as Moscow’s puppet in return for their help with the election, of course. At least, that’s his grand plan. Too much hubris to realize we’d catch him, obviously.”
“Jesus.” I rubbed my jaw. “All this foreign interference shit makes it sound like a full-on CIA operation. Not a Reaper job.”
Roman let out a bark of dry, humorless laughter. “I know. Usually we wouldn’t get involved with something on this level. But Maier betrayed Harcourt, and when you cross one of us—”
“You cross all of us,” I finished for him.
“Exactly. So we’re handling it ourselves.”
“Got it.”
“Maier has a thumb drive in his apartment safe,” he went on. “That’s the forged evidence against Harcourt. You get the drive, and you deal with him.”
“I’m on it. I just need the details.”
“Sending the file right now. Get back to me when the job’s done.”
The call ended, and I looked back up to see Violet still heading across the quad. The way her perfect ass and hips swayed slightly when she walked made me want to follow her, pull her into the nearest dark corner, and show her exactly who she belonged to.
Something suddenly twisted in my chest as I recalled the way she'd looked at that frat asshole Kane Sutherland earlier. The smile she'd given him. The way she’d let his palm linger on that handshake for a second too long.
My hands curled into fists. That shit needed to be shut down. Kane was a distraction. A complication. And I didn't share.
But first, I had work to do.
I turned and headed toward the parking lot where I'd left my car, already running through the logistics in my head. One-hour drive down to Manhattan. One hour for the job. One hour back.
I could be done before dinner.Easy.
The drive into the city ate the leftover light and spat me out into a smear of tail-lights and glass towers. I parked four blocks from Maier's building; far enough that no cameras would connect my plates to what was about to happen.
The Arlington was exactly what you'd expect from the Upper East Side. Marble lobby. Crystal chandeliers. Doormen in suits that cost more than most people's monthly rent. The kind of place where they could tell if you belonged just by looking at your shoes.
