Page 148 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

“What’s in the syringe?”

“Your drug of choice. Ketamine.”

“My—?” It takes me a moment to connect the dots to the drug that poisoned the punch at Rick’s party. “Yeah.”

“It’s a veterinary dose. Used to take down horses. I don’t expect him to survive it. You’re clear on that, right?”

I nod.

“Okay, give it a try.”

He hands me the strange gun. I take a minute to hold it and get used to the weight. I aim several times before trying to fire. The length of the barrel takes getting used to. Finally, I fire at the target.

I hit the second ring and watch the pink fluff quiver.

“Good enough,” Myles say. “Go for center mass. Chest or back, anywhere is fine. Gun and dart are made to punch through animal skin. It’ll penetrate clothes. If you hit on the first shot but the dart falls off, reload and hit him again. The objective here is to take him down quickly and quietly. I don’t give a fuck how much of a dose he gets.”

“Got it.”

Myles packs the gun away, plucks the darts out of the bullseye and sticks them in a yellow sharps box in the gun’s case.

“I’ve got two guns. C says you’re a better shot than he is. You can carry one or you can just be my backup?—”

“I’ll carry one,” I say. “I’m not asking you to do anything I wouldn’t.”

Myles nods. “Appreciate that. I decided the outcome of this as soon as I got my boy’s text. If you’d told me I was on my own, I’d still be here. Experienced eyes and hands are always welcome but I don’t want to stumble over you.”

He won’t.

“Whatever you need me to do, just tell me. I’m not proud. I know when I’m out of my league. This is your op. Tell me what to do.”

Myles snaps the gun case shut and hands it to me. When I take it, he lays a hand on my shoulder.

“Not many people have seen me work,” he says, meeting my eyes. “I won’t pretend what I do is pretty but I try to keep it clean and clinical. I don’t extract information. I don’t torture. Elimination and disposal. That’s what we’re doing. C got used to following my lead in England. If you can do the same, once we find the target, this will be fast. I can’t promise easy but I don’t ever draw shite out. That’s how ops go bad.”

“Okay, I understand. I’ll follow your lead. I won’t get in your way.”

“I appreciate the faith. You should try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s likely to be a long day.”

“Do you sleep during ops?” I ask.

He shakes his head. His gaze drifts down to the gun case. “Not much. I’m used to it. Don’t worry about my focus.”

I take him at his word. He’s the expert and I saw how good he is at his job when he and Max had their adventure in England. With a nod, I take the gun case back into the plane, stow it with my bag, and climb into the nest of sleeping bags Max has made on the floor. Neither of us are used to sleeping alone anymoreand I figure if my morning rocket ends up pressing into him, or his into me, Max won’t punch me.

When I wake, groggy from the broken sleep, stiff and disoriented, Max and Myles are close to the front of the plane, huddled over a phone, speaking quietly.

I crawl over and prop myself against one of the seats, rubbing my bad leg.

“D is awake,” Myles says into the phone.

Ten’s voice responds. “Welcome to the party, D.”

“Good morning, A. What’d I miss?”

“Target acquired,” Ten says. “I’ve given B and C the coordinates. Small complication in that the target’s not alone. I’m hopeful the girls will leave soon, though. I think they’re the kind of company you pay by the hour.”

“Other than the paid companions, anyone in the house?” Myles asks.

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