Gray pulled out a piece of paper, holding it in the air. Felix Kolby’s photo was in the dead center. “Kolby’s murderer is our threat. Eliminating this threat is our main objective.”
“I take it we’re not looping in Sheriff Humbly in on this?” I asked.
His eyes cut to me. “No. We end this for Ash and Angel. As of right now, Red Snake is halting all cases and closing up shop. Understood?”
“I’ll email all current clients,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.
Gray looked at Jake and Dominic. “Hayes and I are in this. Ash isn’t only a friend but an employee. You two have a choice to walk away from this.”
A huffed laugh came from Jake, a wild glint in his eye. “Not a chance in hell.”
We all looked at Dominic. He smirked. “It’s been a minute since we’ve gone off the books. Sounds like fun.”
The man stood at the end of the road, hidden in a shallow ditch, his binoculars pointed at the group standing in front of the large white house. The earpiece in his ear was starting to bother him. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait to finish this job and move the fuck on. He’d been in town far longer than he liked. It smelled like rain and fish all year round. He dreaded it.
“Are they still there?” a deep voice asked through the earpiece.
“Yes,” the man sighed, annoyed.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?”
The man dropped the binoculars. “Look, I understand you’re the kind of client who needs a fucking update almost daily, but I’m not about to risk my life so you can hear what Red Snake Investigations is gossiping about.”
“You said Joseph Grayson had a file.”
The man rolled his eyes, his body sore from being in this position for the last hour. “Yes, but it’s not regarding the target.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Trust me.”
“I don’t.”
The man huffed and took another look at the group. Hayes Mitchell was standing behind his Jeep now, his arms folded over his chest, staring at his boots. “Mitchell is clearly done with the conversation.”
“Mitchell isn’t who I’m worried about.”
“Grayson is still talking to the redhead lumberjack-looking fuck,” the man whispered.
“And Edwards? Where is he?”
The man began scanning the area and came to a dead stop, his stomach dropping along with his balls. Edwards was standing apart from all of them, buttoning his suit jacket up while staring in this direction.
“Fuck!” the man hissed, rushing for his gun.
“What?”
“I think Edwards sees me.”
“Impossible,” his client scoffed. “You’re too far away, and there isn’t enough light.”
“It’s dawn here now, you moron!” the man snapped, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.
Dominic Edwards was a fucking madman, and everyone in the man’s circles knew not to fuck with him. Grayson was an easier target now due to his injury. Mitchell was a straight shooter, a man with a code, honor. The man wasn’t too terrified of him. Murphy was a wild card. The man had been watching Red Snake for years and still couldn’t get a true opinion of the tech boy. Yes, he was built like a mountain, but when he’d taken a bullet in the shoulder in Seattle, he was down for a long time. He was the weak link; one the man could use to his advantage when the time was right.
Edwards, on the other hand…
The man peeked again, and a wave of cool relief crashed into him. He wasn’t in the position to take on Red Snake alone. Also,they weren’t his target. If he had to kill them, he would, but he wouldn’t be getting paid extra.
