Page 40 of Stabby Little

"Send Jagger." I keep my voice cold. "He might be more interested."

"You were never the strong one." Michael issues me a dismissive wave. "Jagger always did my bidding without a second thought. You ask too many questions."

How dare this man say this? How dare this man treat me like I haven't obeyed every command he's given me?

I've killed for this bastard. I've ruined families for this bastard. I was convinced I was only taking out evil men, but what he says today gives me second thought.

"Jagger would be glad to go." I clench my fists under the desk where he can't see. "I'll accompany him partway, but I won't kidnap an innocent boy."

Michael cackles. "Enough small talk. You don't give a shit about my business—you never have. Let's discuss why you're here today."

"I'm fine with that."

Michael cracks open the folder lying next to him. He pulls out a grainy photo and slides it across the desk.

"This is the boy." Michael's voice is firm. Low. In control. Unlike before, every hint of wit has vanished. He wants to discuss business and he doesn't want to fuck around. "He killed Xavier Sanchez at a seedy bar last week."

I stare at the picture. I see a boy with blond hair, wide wayfarer-framed glasses, with a baseball cap on his head. The outline of a knife and gun clearly sit in his back pocket. He walks like he doesn't give a shit about anything.

This isn't Xavier's killer. I've been around killers most of my adult life, which is why Michael took me on. He heard about my upbringing in the crime-ridden suburbs of Chicago and offered me a fortune to return to that lifestyle. Murderers, drug dealers, pimps, and assassins were part of my life story since the minute I emerged from the womb.

"This isn't a killer." I keep my words curt.

Michael's eyebrows slam together. "What do you mean?"

"I deal with criminals all the time." I tap the boy's face, which is so obscured by his blond hair, hat, and wayfarer glasses I can barely tell what he looks like. "This boy doesn't have what it takes."

"He was sitting at the bar and lured Xavier Sanchez to the bathroom." Michael bangs his fist on his desk. "Five minutes later, he left and Xavier was dead."

"How long was it until anyone checked on Xavier?"

"Forty-five minutes."

"Why the hell did it take so long?"

"Xavier's friends were playing poker and hitting on another group of boys that'd walked in. They didn't realize he was gone."

"Forty-five minutes is too large of a gap." I slide the picture back to Michael. "Anyone could've crept into the bathroom during that time."

"No one went to the bathroom." Michael borders on apoplectic. "The bartender kept watch over the entire establishment. He informed my sources that no one entered the bathroom but the boy."

"Do they have cameras facing the bathroom?"

"No."

"The timeline doesn't match up." I shake my head. "Any patron could've snuck in to kill Xavier."

"I already said the bartender was watching it."

"You also said a group of rowdy boys came in. They headed to the bartender, ordered a couple drinks, and flirted with Xavier's men. The bartender didn't need to divert his attention away from the bathroom for more than five minutes for someone else to sneak in and do the job."

"I know this boy did it." Michael's eyes turn to slits. "Xavier was missing his hand. That's exactly what happened with Gordon."

"You think this is the same boy who killed Gordon?"

"A next-door neighbor said they saw a young male driver who didn't look like he was old enough to drive step out of the FedEx truck and walk to Gordon's door. I'm positive it's the same boy."

I crack open my briefcase and tug out my research. "I spoke to the bartender who saw his ID. The boy's name is Kobe Bailey. He's an animal science student at Columbia University who volunteers with LGBTQ+ youth in his free time and gives animals to homeless kids in need. If he killed Gordon and Xavier, he's the most inconspicuous murderer New York has ever seen."

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