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Why hadn’t I been told?
My stomach drops and the headache is back, flashing behind my eyes and in my temples to let me know exactly what my body thinks of the change of plans. It’s nothing good. I circle the block and weave in and out of the side streets barely wide enough for the sleek car.
I grab the cell from my passenger seat and dial in a familiar number I only use in case of emergency. The call rings once before it’s answered, and silence greets me from the other end.
“Is this legit?” I ask.
Broderick groans. “Just go inside,” he tells me gruffly.
That's all I’ll get out of him, along with the clear impatience at his time being wasted.
“New project, huh?”
“It checks out, Blackwell.” The call clicks off.
The boss isn’t big on words. At least not with me.
It’s as though even on his secure line, he’s unwilling to chance staying on too long. At least I know the instructions are good now.You can never be too careful.
My gut is knotted and my head filled with thoughts of a forbidden brunette.
I park out of sight to monitor the gas station from a distance, needing to put some faces to the people I'll be meeting tonight. Any apprehension disappears as I fall into the usual routine. Watch, learn. Get a leg up on everyone else. See between the lines to the unseen.
I’ve got no fucking clue what this is about or why the boss wants me here.
Protecting his investments, potentially. As his eyes and ears on the ground? Certainly.
Fuck me. Work has never felt like work before.
I’ve always been good at what I do, since the first mark for a drug ring I got into half by accident and half out of necessity. These meetings? I’m being pushed somewhere and I don’t need Broderick to tell me that.
By the time the last car arrives, I’m ready.
I walk up to the back door loosely gripping the gun underneath my jacket. The man in glasses guarding the entrance looks weak, expendable, but in this line of work, the weaker they sometimes force themselves to look, the more lethal they are…especially given the way the man’s jacket hangs as though he’s also loaded up in case things go south.
“We’ve had our eye on you,” the guard grumbles as I walk up. “You do good work. It will be good to have you working with us.”
I push past him and say nothing. The last thing I want to do is give any information away, especially shit I might be tricked into giving away.
Are these new bodies Broderick has brought in?
More geese in his flock?
It’s hard to say.
There are only two people on the inside and both of them turn to face me at my approach. Their footsteps have left trails in the dust; the only light is from the streetlamps outside, the interior just as dangerous as the exterior.
The door slams shut behind me and the man on the right shifts, a smirk lifting his horn-rimmed glasses. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Blackwell. Come closer.”
“I’m fine where I am,” I tell him.
Only a sliver of surprise shows on his face. Eventually he jerks his chin in acknowledgement and reaches into his jacket in a way that has me instantly on edge. “We’ve got something to show you. Take a look and see what you think.”
He pulls out a folder and tosses it to me. I let it drop to my feet, glancing between the two of them before bending at the knees to pick it up, not taking my gaze from them. Whatever this meeting is…they’re better prepared than I am. Which reeks of a setup.
The folder shows pictures of the bodies of three women and all of them slashed the same way I do things.
The way I’m assuming whatever others there are like me who work under Broderick have been trained to do.
