Page 12 of Ghost Among Lies

It was a good thing he left when he did. Otherwise, I wasn't sure our friendship would've survived this particular argument. Not without the two of us going to our separate corners and calming down some.

This wasn't the first argument we’d had over Sloane. At first, Toby tried to be supportive. Well, in his own way. He threw random women at me to try to forget she existed. When that didn't work, he would listen to me bitch without saying much. Apparently, now, he was sick of my shit altogether and letting his feelings be known.

I was debating how I wanted to spend the rest of my night when my phone beeped with an incoming message. I knew even before I opened my phone it was a job. The secret server I used had a very specific notification system. I wanted to ensure I never opened it when others were around.

The message was simple. A location and an amount.

Normally, I would research the location before I decided to take the job, but tonight, I needed a distraction, and the timing was perfect.

I pushed the conversation with Toby out of my head and went into work mode. I moved on autopilot. In my small backyard was a shed where I kept my supplies locked up. I grabbed the duffels I would need and carried them to my truck. If I ever got pulled over, a cop would have a field day with what they found. I was prepared to handle any mess I encountered, which always included cleaning up dead bodies. And there was no mistaking the tools I brought along were for that exact purpose.

A fixer. A cleaner. I went by a variety of names, but my job description was always the same. Make sure there was no proof a crime had ever been committed.

And it just so happened I was damn good at my job.

This particular job wasn't in the state. It wasn't even drivable. But that was okay. Transportation came with the assignment. All I needed to do was get my ass to the small airfield, and the rest was taken care of.

The pilot waiting for me was one I used for a lot of my assignments. He was an older gentleman who rarely spoke. I could count on one hand the number of words I heard him say over the years. Like every other time I flew with him, he gave me a chin lift, then helped me store my bags in the plane before we took off.

This wasn't the kind of plane that required a flight attendant. It was nothing more than a puddle jumper that got me from point A to point B. The fewer people who knew what I was doing and where I was going, the better.

I used the time in the air to catch a short nap. I never knew what I was getting into with my assignments, so there was no telling when I would sleep next.

By the time we landed, I was zoned in and ready to work.

"I'll let you know when I'm on my way back."

John––if that was even his real name––lifted his chin again. Like all the other assignments, he would wait here until I was done.

I didn't have the first clue if the man had a family or a life outside of flying people around at a moment's notice. I only knew he was dependable and damn good at his job.

I tossed my bags into the waiting SUV and headed out to the location. I was eager to see what was waiting for me.

What I found was certainly interesting.

It looks like someone had a little too much fun.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SLOANE

"Have you heard from Hawk yet?"

I swiveled in my chair and met Anita's stare. "Did you knock and I missed it?" I know I was absorbed in my work, but there's no way I wouldn't have heard that.

"No, I walked right in."

"Of course you did." I shook my head. "No, I haven't heard anything since I sent the information over. I figured I would do my own digging in the meantime."

I spun back around. Before I could close my current window, Anita was leaning over my shoulder. "Why are you looking into Hayes?"

I took a deep breath. I didn't know how to explain my sudden fascination with him. Actually, yes, I did. I spent years shoving every single feeling I had for the man deep down inside an impenetrable box. Now that I opened it, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to learn everything I could about the last decade of his life. And the more I researched him, the more questions I had.

"Something’s not adding up."

Anita moved to lean on my desk so I could see her in my periphery. "What do you mean?"

"He's too clean," I stressed.