Page 44 of The Editor’s Choice

“Yes, sir?” I said, poking my head around the side of the door.

He had a desk lamp on, shrouding the rest of the room in a dim light. It cast harsh shadows over his face, making him look ten times more deadly than he did on a regular day, which I had thought would be impossible up until that point. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified as I peeked into the office that day.

He didn’t reply, waiting for me to have the balls to step in fully. With a deep breath, I stepped through the threshold, terrified but willing to accept whatever was coming my way.

“Close the door,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on the open laptop in front of him.

When I did, he motioned to the worn out leather seats in front of him. I took a seat, scooted all the way to the edge.

He turned the laptop to me slowly. On the screen there was a picture of three small children. Two little girls and an infant boy. They were smiling and happy, eyes full of life. He clicked the arrow, scrolling to a second picture. A beautiful woman, dark auburn hair with green eyes, standing beside a young man who was holding her swollen stomach.

I swallowed the bile down as it rose in my throat. It was the man I had dropped off last night.

“He had a family,” I say with finality, using the past tense intentionally. James wouldn’t be showing me this if this man was still alive.

“He did,” he says, letting the pause hang in the air between us. “The things we do here matter. They have consequences. A lot of times, those consequences are the difference between life and death, Roman. You cost this man his life. Those children no longer have a father because you were careless.” The gravity of the situation presses down on my shoulder, making it difficult to pull a full breath into my lungs.

“I can’t have that kind of carelessness here on my team,” he continued, turning the computer back to face him again. “We can’t fuck up here.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. I saw the guy watching from the second floor. I just didn’t know he was part of another team for sure,” I say as an explanation, not as an excuse. No excuse is going to fix this. “Excuse me,” I say, standing while I still have the strength left to do so.

“Wait.” Instantly, I stop, halfway to standing out of the chair. Lowering myself slowly back into the chair, I do my best to reign in the panic building in my blood as he closes the laptop lid.

“I’ll be completely honest with you, Roman,” he began, lacing his fingers together on the wooden desk in front of him. “I wasn’t excited about bringing you into this. I don’t think you’re built for it. Your heart is too soft. But I brought you in anyway, hoping you could hack it. This whole instance has proven me right the way I see it. Your oversight cost this man his life.” He pauses, weighing my reaction.

I do my best to keep my features neutral, though a wave of despair and anger are rushing over me simultaneously, threatening to drown me in my own head. I remain still, unfazed.

“Unfortunately, Finn sees potential in you,” he continues. “He’s been my right-hand man for years now. His story isn’t too different from yours. You’d do good to ask him about it sometime. But anyway, he pointed out that you were careful. You covered your tracks. Took different paths in and out. Tracked the guy down with no assistance from anyone here.

“You’re resourceful and your responses are appropriate. You think for yourself instead of falling into line with everyone else without reason. I like that in my men.” He stretches his arms above his head, leaning back in his seat, cupping the back of his neck.

“With that being said, against my better judgement, I'm going to give you another shot. With some additional training. You’ll be with Finn for the next couple weeks, learning everything he can teach you about what we do here. The good and the bad. If, at the end of that time, he still thinks you have potential, you’re welcome to stay.” His face looks tense as he finishes, like it’s physically painful for him to say the words.

I’ll have to remember how important Finn is here. That could be useful in the future.

Over the next few weeks, my skills improved significantly. Finn and I spent time at the shooting range, scouring the internet for information using different techniques to stay hidden, and scouting the areas we had control over. I learned so much from him in that short time and truly felt like I had finally found where I belonged. I was made for this job. Until she came along.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jade

Stretching my sleep taut muscles, I take his suggestion and snag a pair of sleep pants from his closet. Pulling them over my feet quickly, I do my best to keep up with him as he heads for the living room.

“Hey,” I say behind him, finally tugging the pants up to my waist. “What’s this all about?”

“I told you I had a plan,” he starts, turning so abruptly that I damn near run into his chest. “Finn is on his way here so we can get started on it. That’s what I’m hoping for at least. I’m not sure how he’s going to feel about everything considering what happened with James.”

As if on cue, there’s a light knock on the door announcing his arrival. Roman clicks back the deadbolt, opening the door for him. “Thanks for coming, Finn,” he says, stepping back to allow him inside.

“What’s this all about, Roman?” Finn asks, not making any time for pleasantries. “I know it can’t be good if you got yourself kicked out of the warehouse and need a favor right after.”

Roman gives him a simple nod before leading him into the living room and offering him a seat. “Let’s get right to it then, shall we?” he asks, situating himself across from where Finn now sits, perched on the edge of the chair. “I went to James to ask for help. He obviously turned me down, given the details I’m about to share with you. I’ll understand if you do the same, but I could really use somebody I can trust in my corner.”

Ten minutes later, after spewing out all the details yet again, Finn leans back into the chair. “I don’t know, man,” he begins, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Why not just hand me a pen so I can sign my own death warrant?” A deep, gravelly chuckles leaves him but there’s no real amusement in it.

“I know it’s a lot. I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option,” Roman explains, fully aware that if we can’t get Finn’s help, we’re absolutely fucked. The only option left is to run and live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, hoping the cops don’t catch up and Cain decides to just let it go eventually, which doesn’t seem likely.

Finn is quite a bit shorter than Roman, standing about 5’10” if I was guessing. He looks like a completely different man than when I first met him now. He’s freshly showered, hair a little shaggy, and no longer smells of stale cigarettes. Truthfully, he’s a painfully handsome man when he’s cleaned up a bit.