Page 5 of Silent Sins

Her skin prickled. Paul Ortiz was not a happy guy. Something had him stressed out, big time. Maybe he wasn’t so clueless after all.

Tensing, Avery ducked below the dash as he pulled out of the lot, and then she followed him back down the rain-slicked streets. Something was shifting.

About time.

This case consumed her thoughts 24/7, in part because it reminded her so much of the one that got her father killed. He, too, had been forced off an investigation only to continue it solo in secret.

In the end, he’d sacrificed his life, taking action when others refused to. Avery had no death wish, but the same relentless drive for justice burned in her bones. She wouldn’t quit either. No matter the obstacles or warnings, she intended to expose the ugly truth.

Eyes straining to see through the steady drizzle, she set her jaw, careful to keep a few cars between her and Ortiz’s truck.

Justice would be done—with or without the bureau’s backing. If her hunch paid off, Rain Bay’s newest mechanic would be her way in.

All she needed to figure out was a way to make first contact.

4

The man calledGhost slouched against the graffiti-slathered brick wall of the derelict hotel, his eyes sweeping over the crumbling buildings lining the pothole-ridden street. The air hung heavy with the stink of rot and abandonment, the perfect setting for the shady deals that thrived in this forgotten armpit of Seattle.

He sucked in a breath, savoring the foul tang of home. The roots he’d long outgrown but still needed.

It had been ages since he’d spent any real time on the streets, but this job—his magnum opus—demanded his full attention. Not that he was complaining. Being back on the streets kept him fit, honing his reflexes and his taste for blood. Sharpening the blade.

He was almost there. Inches from escape.

When the Ghost vanished this time, he’d be reborn so wealthy he’d need a calculator to keep track of the zeros.

Next to him, his young righthand man, Javier, fidgeted nervously. His fingers drummed a jittery rhythm on his thigh as he eyed a crew of street thugs swaggering their way, skulking in the shadows like the bottom-feeders they were.

Once the group passed, Javier whipped out his phone, his movements twitchy with agitation. “Yo, Ghost, check this out.”

In his rush, Javier’s elbow jabbed Ghost in the ribs, a rookie move that would’ve earned anyone else a swift beatdown. Ghost simply cocked an eyebrow, snatching the phone from Javier’s hand. “Easy there, youngblood,” he cautioned, his voice low and gravelly.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed as he watched the grainy video on the screen, showing the roof of the warehouse across from their latest score, Rain Bay Trucking.

On the video, a familiar figure crouched near the edge, her dark curls whipping in the wind.

“That fed’s still sniffing around,” Javier said, his voice tight.

“I can see that,” Ghost replied, his eyes glued to the screen.

Javier bounced on his toes, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Thought you said your boy in the suit was gonna handle her. Make her back off.”

Ghost handed back the phone, his face unreadable. “Guess she didn’t get the memo.”

“Or your boy didn’t handle his business.”

Ghost shot the kid a hard look. Questions were one thing, but that snotty tone was pushing it. There was way too much Javier didn’t need to know.

“I didn’t mean––” Javier ducked his head, swallowing hard. “No disrespect. I’m just lookin’ out for you. I don’t trust suits. You know that.”

“For now, the guy’s useful. That changes, I’ll handle it myself.”

Javier nodded, bobblehead style. “So what’s the plan with fed girl?” He shoved his hands in his baggy jeans pockets, rocking on his heels. The kid was like a live wire, sparking with nervous energy. “We could stage an OD. Or she catches a stray bullet. Wrong place, wrong time, you feel me?”

Ghost didn’t answer right away, his mind racing through the angles. He had his so-called partner to think about. Until he cut the dude out.

The city’s noise filled the silence between them, distant sirens wailing, bass thumping from a passing ride, shouts and laughter from the crew on the corner.

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