Page 1 of The Phantom's Vice

PROLOGUE

I could takethe shot right now. She would be dead, and then all this mess would be over with.My pulse monitor screams as my finger tightens on the trigger, but try as I might, I can't move that last millimeter.

“Fuck,” I curse, tossing my rifle to the side as I sit back on my heels. I tap the side of my mask, and my vision sharpens, homing in on the beautiful dark-haired woman in the window across the street. Her movements are subtle, and the graceful way she carries herself is damn near feline.

A beautiful black cat trying to catch her canary.

Her mouth is set in a grim line as she gestures to the whiteboard behind her—a whiteboard that just so happens to have my “face” plastered all overit.

I shouldn't have been so careless. I knew the FBI was on my heels, yet I still put my neck on the line to help Kain—the ungrateful fuck. My actions were a direct violation of all my training and of my control. I shouldn't have felt the things I did that day. I should have left him and Lillith to die.

It's what my master would have done. Without remorse.

I pause, an image of Kain and Lillith flashing in my mind. The way her face lights up when she just so much as catches a glance of him. The way her presence makes Reinhold soften.

Love… I think they’re in love.

I mull over the word, watching it tumble and flip around the vast chasm of my mind.I think I would like to experience this… this romantic love.

It’s been decades since I’ve allowed myself to desire something—much less someone. I know how dangerous it is to love. I’ve felt the consequences firsthand, and they were nearly my undoing.And that was only platonic love. Not this—this all-consuming thing I’ve seen between Kain and Lillith.

There's a bitter taste in my mouth as I watch the pretty young FBI agent hand out files to her subordinates. I have no doubt they're fullof information about me. At least what scraps they've been able to learn over the decades while chasing me.

Not me. Ghost. They're trying to find the Phantom.

I have to remind myself that I am not the persona I've worn over the years. A near-impossible task when this mask feels more like my real face with every passing day.

Although, you weren't able to take the shot. Maybe there is some scrap of humanity left.

I snort at the thought. What was left of me died the day my mother sold me to the Reapers. Left me to rot, to?—

Nope. Not fucking going there.

I refocus on the woman across the street, at those big round eyes and pouty lips that make her seem so much less dangerous than she is. Her conservative pencil skirt and messy bun look practically demure—a fantastic defense mechanism, especially for men who can't see past the surface.

Only, she's not demure. No, Brett Evangeline is an intelligent, conniving natural disaster of a woman. Or rather, anunnatural one—like black ice on a warm summer's night.

I respect her for it, but that's not a good enough reason not to kill her. The little kitten sank her clawsinto the wrong mask, and I'm going to make sure she knows it. As I pack up my equipment, a stray thought pierces my mind.

There's more than one way to skin a cat. And who says we can't have a little fun before I finish the job?

PART ONE

HAUNTING

CHAPTER ONE

GHOST

The Code: Rule #1

Do not violate The Code.

“It’s betterif I don’t know you. Because if I know you, someone is trying to kill you. And if that someone pays me well enough…” I dab the corners of my mouth delicately with my napkin. My chair screeches against the concrete as I stand, heaving a sigh. “I shouldn’t talk about these things over dinner. My mother always screamed for me to mind my manners, but I suppose it never stuck.”

I run my fingers over the steak knife on the fine white dining cloth. Bits of muscle and sinew cling to the serrations, and I place the napkin over it, suddenly nauseous at the sight.

“My apologies. I didn’t ask you if you wanted any,” I say, shooting a look at the gagged FBI agent in the corner of the bunker. “How rude of me, indeed.”

---