Page 6 of Reactant

He tugged on a second glove and then pulled out the wallet, flipping it open. Fifty bucks. Picture of a cat. Card for a nearby strip club. Coffee shop frequent-flyer cards that suggested he drank way too much coffee and never turned the cards in for his freebies. Maybe he was saving them for a party? Jericho had no idea if hoarding them like that was even allowed. He drank coffee but not to that kind of excess and never enough times at the same shop as to develop a habit that someone could potentially use against him.

He frowned as he pulled out a folded slip of paper that had been hidden behind the ID. He dropped the wallet on George’s stomach and unfolded the paper.

Errol Derrick

Dane Howell

Chris Hennessy

Warren Boiler??

Dylan Hall

Benjamin Kenny

Alan Randall

Sebastian Devlin

“What the fuck is that?” Six asked. “And why did George have it?”

That was also a good fucking question. He didn’t like the marks next to his name. His cover had been solid. It wasalwayssolid.

Jericho pocketed the note. “It’s a kill list,” he said confidently. There was no other viable option. “They don’t know that Errol and Dane are dead, but Benjamin Kenny died in prison yesterday. It was ruled a suicide.”

“Bet it wasn’t.”

Jericho stood. “He didn’t have something to tell me. He was trying to lure me in.” He sneered at George’s body. “You fucking son of a bitch.” No honour among the scum of the world.

“If he was bringing you in here to kill you, why ishedead?” Six asked. He scanned the room uneasily. “Everything about this says trap to me. I suggest we get the fuck out of here.”

Yes. Butwhy?

“We need to—” Jericho cut off as Six lifted a hand. He went on full alert at the expression on his friend’s face. Six’s instincts shouldneverbe ignored. “What is it?”

“Can you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

Six didn’t answer. His brows drew together as he took a few steps towards the kitchenette. He put his gun away as he checked the stove, turning the knobs back and forth.

Jericho scowled. “Six, what the fuck are you—” He twisted, the smell registering. “Smoke.”

“Smoke,” Six confirmed.

It wasn’t coming from the stove. It wasn’t even coming from this apartment. The next one over? It was too strong.

Jericho quickly checked George’s body, pocketing his wallet and phone, and hurried out after Six into the hallway.

There was smoke pouring out of the next apartment door. It was ajar, and flames licked at the top of the doorframe.

“Son of a bitch,” Six cursed. He shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping it around his fist. He used his covered hand to grab the door handle and pull it, slamming it shut. Based on the level of smoke and flames, it wasn’t going to contain the fire long.

“We need to get everyone out,” Jericho said. That apartment was engulfed, and the smoke detector was conspicuously silent. The fire was clearly deliberate and meant for them. Jericho refused to allow anyone to be in the firing line because of him. Not like this. The smoke detectors would start going off too late for those above them to get out before their exit was obstructed. He wasn’t leaving until everyone was safe.

“Where’s the floor alarm?” Six asked, already banging on the door opposite the burning room. “If we can set it off, we can get the herd moving.”

“What floor alarm?” he said with a snort. There was an alarm panel in the foyer, from what he could remember, but not for individual floors.

---