Page 81 of Agony

Justice gave a slight nod before leaving the room.

It was better all the way around if he just kept busy and didn’t think about the fucked-up shit he’d done.

Pulling his cell phone out, he shot Savage a text for another job.

The next afternoon…

Fisher left Boston waiting at the top of the brick wall surrounding Dave’s estate.

It was better the boy was out of harm’s way in case he came up against resistance. Not that he thought this would end badly, but he wasn’t one for trusting.

Once Boston was lying flat on the top of the wall, Fisher put a finger to his lips. Boston saw the gesture and gave a quick nod. He liked that about the kid. Boston was quiet when needed. The teenager acted so much like him that it was uncanny.

Guards made the rounds every ten minutes and he waited for an opening. Jumping from the top of the wall, Fisher landed lightly in the grass before he sprinted over to crouch down near the hedges that lined the luxurious three-story home. The inside was even more stunning with soaring ceilings and high-class modern amenities, all while maintaining the feel of a real home. At least it had felt that way to him the few times he’d been inside.

He hovered behind the hedge, lingering in the shadows. This was going to be the tricky part.

Not getting shot by Dave’s bodyguards.

Maybe he should have called ahead? Nah, that wasn’t his style. He was more of a shock-and-awe type of guy.

“What are you doing?” a young voice asked him from above.

Craning his head back, Fisher gazed up at a dark-haired teenage boy sitting on the roof, legs dangling over the side.

The boy had to be one of the young assassins from Solomon’s facilities, but fuck if he knew what the kid’s name was.

“I’m here to see Dave,” he said quietly, darting a glance toward the circular driveway and the guards standing there.

“To kill him?”

“Ah, no. I want to see if my friend can hang here for a few days.”

It was clear the boy didn’t trust him, but Fisher smiled anyway.

“And you are?” he asked.

The youth snorted a tad haughtily, which was very cute.

“I’m Azrael.”

“Ah, okay, I’ve heard of you.”

“Where’s your friend?”

Fisher pointed toward the wall and Azrael glanced over.

Boston waved.

“Boston,” Azrael hissed and scrambled to his feet.

Running across the roof, Azrael leaped the distance to the wall. Landing like a fucking cat, the teenager raced along the top of the wall until he reached Boston.

The boys grabbed each other and hung on tight.

“Don’t fucking move,” a voice snarled and something hard pressed against the back of Fisher’s head.

Well, shit.

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