Page 8 of A Past Too Broken

There are two different vantage points I can set up in, but only one would provide decent cover from impending rain. It’s also the one with the less than ideal line of sight.

Fuck it. A little rain never hurt anyone, no matter what Reggie says.

Mind made up, I use the keycard Hollis made for me and sent via Molly to gain rooftop access and begin the ascent up the stairs.

I consider myself in good shape—you have to be in order to get the job done and then get out of dodge—but climbing thirteen flights of stairs is not my idea of a good time. Especially not when I have to carry my baby up as well.

Another reason I don’t mind sitting out in the rain is thanks to the custom-built sniper rifle I paid a pretty penny for a few years ago. It’s the best long-range weapon I’ve ever used and holds up well despite the hell I put it through. That doesn’t mean I enjoy carrying it up and down fucking stairs.

Finally on the roof of the building across the street from my mark’s office, I cross the space from the door to the ledge I already mapped out a few days ago.

Stopping in my tracks at the sight of the box sitting on the ledge right where I want to set up the rifle, I stare at it. Approaching with caution, I stare at the pack of cigarettes.

While rationally it can be explained away as being left by an employee who works in one of the offices downstairs, something tells me it’s not. Especially since there’s a note taped to the front of the box.

With a quiet sigh, I pick the package up, thankful I always wear leather gloves on a job, and read the note.

Don’t say I never did anything for you - M

Rolling my eyes, I remove the note, shove it in my pocket, then toss the pack of smokes off to the side to deal with later. I don’t have time or brainpower to figure out whatever game Min’s playing now.

Part of me wants to toss the cigarettes off the roof, but I can’t afford to be discovered because of them randomly falling from the sky. The other part is grateful I no longer need to make a stop on the way home. How Min figured out which brand I prefer is something I’d rather not think about, though it does prompt me to remove my phone from my pocket after I set up and send a text.

ZAY

I need a favor

MOLLY

You still owe me from the previous one.

ZAY

So I’ll owe you two, or a big one, whatever.

MOLLY

Don’t have to ask me twice. What’s up?

ZAY

I need you to put your stalking skills to work

MOLLY

It’s not stalking if they like it, but sure

I snort at that but quickly lay out what I want from him. He doesn’t respond by the time I need to settle in behind the rifle, but that’s fine. I’m not in any rush to show Min that if he wants to play games… Well, he’ll get what he wished for.

Five Months After Kidnapping

Contrary to what I’d led Zay to believe, I actually do work for a living sometimes. I might not have all the contacts and shit he does, but I can get things done. Which is how I find myself breaking into the vacation home of some investment banker.

I don’t know who they are or what they did to piss the client off, but so long as someone pays for it, I’m happy to take care of their little problem.

Especially when the mark is someone stupid enough to have a house steps from the beach and doesn’t even bother to lock their sliding door. Gated community or not, you can never be too careful.

The glass door slides easily on its track as I close it behind me. Staying still, I listen for any movement before soundlessly making my way through the open plan kitchen and front room to the back hall where the bedrooms are.

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