Page 1 of Prodigal Son

One

The bell above the door jangled, and Albie kicked himself mentally for not having locked up yet. “We’re closed,” he called without looking up from his sketch. He was designing a new side table, very rustic and American-looking, clean lines and sturdy legs.

“Shame,” a female voice said, accompanied by the clip of high heels across the floor. “I do love that wingback chair over there.”

He lifted his head to find a striking, sharply-dressed woman walking toward his desk. She had one of those faces that inspired second and third looks: aristocratic bone structure, soft pink mouth, heavy-lidded eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back, a few artful loose strands left to fall against her jaw, her throat. She’d taken great care to draw curious glances upward, above her shoulders – but Albie knew to look for the faint shadow on the inside of her suit jacket, the Browning tucked into a waistband holster.

“Hello, Eden,” he said, without inflection. He liked her, but he wasn’t going to encourage this visit, whatever it was about. He didn’t see much use in allowing someone who worked for the government to linger one floor above his weapons stash for too long.

“Hello, Albie.” There was a stool opposite his desk, and she slid onto it gracefully, crossing her legs at the knee. Her black slacks were tight and chic, expensive-looking. Everything about Eden Adkins was expensive. “I’m glad to see the shop hasn’t changed since I was last here.”

“What do you want?”

She smirked. “That wasn’t an insult.”

“Eden. What do you want?”

She released a tired-sounding breath, expression fading into one of frustration. He’d always thought her cold and efficient, and it was disconcerting to see her show human qualities. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with your brother. He won’t return my calls.”

“Which one?” Albie asked, playing dumb.

She gave him a sharp look. “You and Charlie both know I don’t make social calls.”

“Your most charming quality, I think.”

She rolled her eyes. “This is important. Tell him to ring me back.”

“What’s it about?”

She stared at him a long moment, face unreadable. She was beautiful. And dangerous. Charlie always did have shitty taste in women.

After a long, tense moment broken only by the ticking of the cuckoo clock on the wall behind them, she shrugged. “I might as well show you as well. Maybe it will get him here faster.”

“What…” he started, but she was pulling out her phone and tapping at the screen.

She found what she wanted with a quiet “there,” and turned the screen toward him.

A video began to play. Black and white security footage, but unmistakable.

Albie felt his jaw clench tight. “When was this taken?”

“Two weeks ago. It’s theseventhtime he’s been caught on camera in the past six months.”

“Jesus.”

“Call Charlie,” she instructed.

“Yeah. Let me do that.”

~*~

“He don’t look like much,” Fox said, bending at the waist to get on eye level with the Tennessee chapter’s newest acquisition.

“Look who’s talking,” Ghost said with a snort.

“Trust me, it wasn’t meant as an insult.” The boy sitting in front of him stared back without flinching, gaze not blank, but shielded. Very alert, very intelligent, and very,veryinhuman. “The best killers are always the ones no one expects. Save Mercy, of course, no offense.”

Over his shoulder somewhere, Mercy chuckled.

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