“Looks like the infinity symbol.”
“What a piece of shit. Are you sure it’s on the original? None of his doubles have it?”
“I’m sure, Shadow. This is what I do all day. Every day.”
He nodded, still reflecting on Maurice’s words. Shadow had always believed the poison the social workers fed him. It was one of the reasons he kept to himself, convinced he was a monster. Maurice’s declaration made him think.
“Why’d you mention that stuff about my reports, anyway?”
“Look, Shadow, I know all the dark stuff, from the foster system to your tours of duty. But, I also know what you do Thursday nights. I know about the shooting at the bar. You think you’re the devil? The devil doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”
He stood up, tucking the 9mm on the coffee table in the back of his pants. “Thanks for the information.” Then he got up to leave, his hand on the door handle. “Boss give any contracts on the girl?”
“No, but Killian’s his right-hand man these days.”
“Take care of yourself,” said Shadow, leaving the apartment. Once outside in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and scrubbed his hands over his face. He lived by himself and stayed away from other people to avoid this type of emotional overload. His memories were weaknesses he didn’t need to relive.
At least Riley was safe for now. Maurice was right—if Killian found out Boss put a hit out on an innocent woman, there’d be hell to pay.
He headed out to the downtown core. According to his recon, the target had an appointment with a banker at 3:00, but it could be more smoke and mirrors. Shadow sat in his SUV and watched the entrance of the bank with his binoculars. As boredom settled in, he massaged behind his neck with one hand and checked his Rolex. A couple minutes to three, two cars pulled up in front. He waited to see who would step out after the rear passenger door was held open. When he spotted Chains driving the lead car, he tossed his binoculars and bolted from his vehicle.
Did Boss have more than one guy on the job or was Chains backstabbing Killer of Kings? Either way, his day just got more fucked up. He called Boss on his cell as he walked along the sidewalk, weaving in and out of suits. Shadow hated crowds.
“You finished the job early?” asked Boss.
“Good one. Since you have your finger on the pulse of the city, you know the answer. What I need to know is why Chains is driving around with my mark.”
“I don’t remember saying it was exclusive.”
Shadow growled his irritation. “He’s going to blow his cover if he makes a move on the wrong guy. Maurice said he has a fucking army of body doubles.”
“Chain is infiltrating on the down low. Nothing to do with your mark. I like to have eyes and ears everywhere. Just worry about getting your contract fulfilled.”
“I’m on it.”
Shadow shut off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He had to get close enough to see the tattoo before he could take out his mark. It wouldn’t be easy. As he approached the two idling cars, he glared at Chains, sitting in the driver’s seat. He’d only worked with Chains briefly while they were handling the Dead Angels MC clean-up, but Shadow preferred to work alone.
He discreetly pressed a tracker to the rear of both vehicles before walking toward the bank. Shadow blended into the surroundings. Today, he’d dressed the part, wearing the tailored Brioni suit he saved for knocking off upscale bastards. The five men flanking his target were on alert, so he couldn’t get close. With the security cameras and armed guards, he wouldn’t be pulling out his guns inside the bank. He just needed to verify he had the right man, and then he’d follow the piece of shit outside of the city and take out all six of them.
Shadow had complete faith in his ability to get the job done, no matter how many fuckers he had to take down. Boss had taught him well. Firsthand experience at Killer of Kings over the last twenty years had put him at the top of his game.
The foyer of the historic bank was massive, the vaulting ceilings reminiscent of the museums in Rome. The marble floors shined with a mirror finish. Shadow had traveled the world on assignments, and spoke several languages. Italy had been one of his favorites.
He took out his phone, keeping tabs on the group while trying to look occupied. Shadow discreetly took pics of the men in the entourage. His mark had dirty-blond hair and looked to be in his mid-thirties. He’d expected someone much older considering how far his criminal enterprise reached. Didn’t matter. It was either him or a double, and Shadow was getting fucking sick of recon.
Maybe shaking things up would bring the real man to the surface … or send him deeper into hiding. He had to do this one right, just as Boss instructed. He liked assignments that were cut and dry—find and eliminate the mark without all this bullshit. Maybe Boss was punishing him for his last fuck-up.
“You clean up well.” The voice came from directly behind him. As much as he’d love to whirl around and shove his Glock in the asshole’s face, he kept still.
“Don’t get excited. I’m not into dudes,” said Shadow before he turned partly to the side.
He frowned when he saw Anthony DeVino, one of the mob’s low-ranking hitmen. Shadow should have expected competition with such a high payout.
“What? Not happy to see me?”
“You reek of cold cuts and cigars, not exactly a pleasant combination.” Shadow put his phone away, occasionally keeping tabs on his mark as he crossed his arms. “Give me some space.”
“You’re breakin’ my heart here, Shadow.”