I let him fucking escape.
Since I will not be admitting that today or any other day, I answer instead with, “What’s the reason for the hit on Rowan Rangecroft?”
Ray blinks. “You don’t usually care about particulars.”
“I rarely care because you know better than to send me after innocents.”
“And I don’t.” Ray pauses, rustling some papers out of frame. For a handler, the man’s disorganized as fuck. After a minute, he sighs. “Although…I remember now that the buyer gave me very little in the way of details. They stated that he was armed, dangerous, and carrying sensitive information. That’s why I asked you to retrieve his phone or any other devices.”
You mean the phone the guy grabbed from the nightstand before he dressed and departed?Oops.
He likely wasn’t armed, though. Not sure where he’d even have kept a weapon given the way I found him. I sure as hell got a look. A good look. At all of him.
“What kind of information is he supposed to have?”
“Aside from it being sensitive, I don’t know. Again, they didn’t give details.”
I roll my eyes. “Very helpful.”
Ray squints at me. “You’re thinking the buyer lied?”
“Come on. ‘Armed and dangerous?’ Sounds like something from an old timey police bulletin.” Not to mention the shock and fear on Rowan’s face when I told him why I was really here. “He’spractically a kid, Ray. Twenty, maybe. How dangerous could he really be?”
“You already had a body count at that age.” After a few seconds of me scowling through the screen, a deep sigh lets me know he’s given up. “Fine. I’ll see what else I can find out.”
“Good. So will I.”
“You need cleanup?”
“Nah.” Taking another look at the body, I think I did a pretty sweet job, actually. “Staged it and everything. Let me know what you find out, but I have the feeling the police are going to need to know about this guy.”
“You gonna write a note?”
“Who do you take me for? That’s a rookie move.” Even if I had a pen and paper to leave one, I wouldn’t. Most suicides don’t bother.
“So is letting the mark escape.”
Ray’s level of perception is uncanny. How the hell does he always know? A frisson of nerves slices across my gut, but I give the camera the finger. “Let me know if you find any more information.”
“Milo.” There’s a warning in his voice. “Figure this out. I don’t want to have to issue a refund.”
Nobody wants that. Especially not me.
“If I get the job canceled, you won’t have to.” Refund is code for the guy he assigned couldn’t get the job done, so he had to send someone else. And a professional who’s bungled a job? They don’t live long. But canceling the job requires me killing the person who ordered the hit.
“Ifyou get it canceled.”
“Like I already said, Ray, something feels wrong about this. And if someone ordered a hit for someone who didn’t deserve it, then I can guarantee you that someone definitely does.”
Before Ray can say anything else, I hang up and dial another number. One I haven’t called in years.
“You better not be calling for the reason I think you are.”
“Hey, Jalen. Nice to talk to you too. Long time no see. How’s life? You know, the one I saved back in New Orleans?”
“About a thousand years ago.”
It was five. “And yet…”
