“It appears the man being threatened is Benjamin Thomas, the CEO.” He let out a noise. “We have reason to believe this person has no idea who I really am.”
“That…”
“Changes things, yes.”
He moved then, fiddling again with his wedding ring. His footsteps were heavy as he trailed around his office. I watched the steps he took as though he were one of my targets—examining his surroundings and the places his eyes lingered.
The man was drowning in opulence, and this office was nothing but a testament to how wealthy he truly was. The founder and CEO of the world’s largest streaming company, Benjamin Thomas was the richest mother fucker Seattle had ever seen.
He was also the youngest mob boss in the history of the mafia.
There were rumors, of course, but the public had no actual proof the hand they shook at charity events was responsible for taking the lives of dozens of men.
“If this person doesn’t know who you are, then why do they want you dead?”
“I’m not certain yet. My PR team does a damn good job of making sure I look as pure as the fucking pope. I've been going through past interactions, trying to pinpoint if I pissed someone off.”
“We’ve got to be looking at someone wealthy, sir. I imagine funding the execution of a public figure ain’t cheap. This fucker has money, and he’s desperate enough to use it.”
“We’ve got to be smart about this, Kingston. I’ve been threatened as a mob boss more times than I count but this is different. I want to approach this with precision and silence. If the press gets wind of this, it’s going to be a shitshow.”
I nodded.
Anonymity worked in our favor. This guy didn’t have a fucking clue who he was actually dealing with. Ben had an arsenal of both men and weapons at his disposal. Any typical enemy would know that… but this guy isn’t typical and chances are he won’t be prepared for the hellfire we’ll inevitably rain down on him.
“This stays on a need-to-know basis. As of now, only Ivan and I are aware of the threat, and until we know more information, it’s going to stay that way.”
Ivan was his underboss. The guy was The Hulk reincarnated and could snap a man’s neck with one hand.
A fucking legend.
“I’m allowing you to be part of this job because you’ve proven your loyalty tenfold. You’ve got the best shot of any assassin this chapter has ever seen. You’re an asset here, Kingston, so don’t fuck this up.”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t fuck up. Ever.”
I was quick, quiet, and I dropped more bodies in a week than any of those other fuckers did in a month.
“Yes, I know. It’s precisely why you’re here. I don’t enjoy cleaning up messes, and you have a habit of not making any.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know, but it still felt good to hear I’d impressed one of the country's cruelest men.
“We’re going into this with extreme caution and vigilance. If it’s just me they’re after, fine, but I don’t want Toby caught in the middle. If something happens to my husband, everybody dies. Do I make myself clear?”
He was stone, and if I possessed enough self-preservation to be afraid, I would’ve been in that moment.
“Crystal clear, sir.”
“Good.” He moved back toward his desk. His chair made a noise when he sat, and he reached for a folder. “Now we can discuss our second problem.”
I waited.
“As of this moment, your target is a ghost.”
“We don’t know who he is?”
“Not yet, but we will.” He tossed the folder across his desk, and I lurched forward to grab it. “I don’t want this man to know I’m onto him. Until we have a name, you and your partner will report to me virtually”
“Yes—”wait.“Did you say partner?”