Page 25 of F*ck Steal Kill

He grumbled, the rough sound sending shivers down my spine in a panic. “Do I need to send someone else in, Grady? I thought you were ready for this case. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“No, sir. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again. I’ll set three alarms if needed.”

“You remember what is on the line here, don’t you? We can’t afford to screw up.” I could hear the ‘you’ and ‘again’ without him even saying the words.

“I know,” I gritted out, my molars clenching down so hard I could hear them cracking. My dentist wouldn’t like that. Good thing I didn’t care what he thought. “I’m fully aware. You don’t have to lecture me.”

A gush of air came through the speaker, and I could picture Jackson sitting at his desk, rubbing his temples. I wanted to feel guilty about creating stress in his life, but at the end of the day, the only two people’s opinions I cared about were the men on my team.

“Just get me the report tonight. I need updates on the targets and what you’ve found. The big boss believes this person could be the key to stopping the Savages. And based on the latest intel, we’re running out of time.”

Fear gripped my chest, my heart being squeezed inside of me as the air in my lungs left me. I’d been chasing the Savages for so long I didn’t know how to do anything else. If they were making moves, then it wasn’t good. Anytime we caught wind of their dealings, there was always a massive trail of bodies to clean up.

Images of bloody corpses threatened to overtake me as the memory of coming home to find my fiancee, Camila, lying on the floor in a puddle of blood, her body mutilated.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I pulled on the tips of my hair, needing the pain to distract me. If I gave into the memory, I’d be useless for the rest of the day. And that wasn’t a luxury I had.

“Noted. I’ll send over our findings.”

“Grady…” Jackson paused, and I braced myself for whatever he was preparing to say. “They’re giving you a week to find this person and flip them. If you can’t, then they’re sending in Ryan’s team.”

“Fuck,” I hissed, knowing what that meant.

Within the Shadows, there were several types of teams with varying degrees of skills. The three of us vetted the threats, evaluating their capacity for empathy and compliance before recommending them for recruitment or turning them over to the authorities to pay for their crimes.

And when that couldn’t be done, or the person was too far gone to reason with, a kill team came in and took care of the problem before it escalated.

Whoever this killer was, I had a gut feeling they could be valuable based on the information we knew and how they selected their victims. To have them subjected to Ryan’s team felt like a waste, but I knew the Shadows would never allow them to continue as they were—killing whoever they saw fit.

So as much as I didn’t want to see someone with potential taken out, I understood the rules—comply or die.

“I look forward to reading your report,” Jackson said, his voice softer now.

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up without saying anything else. I stood there, staring across the vacant parking lot. The sun had dipped lower, casting richer purples and pinks through the sky. I took a second to inhale the fresh air, hoping it would be enough to help me focus. This job had become even more critical. I needed to find my ghost.

* * *

Tapping on the door, I waited until Quentin opened it from his side. I lifted my brow, ensuring the space was free of civilians this time. Huffing, he rolled his eyes as he took his spot against the wall, his eyes focused on me. I could feel them cataloging every little nuance as he took in my day. Q was so attuned at times I wondered if he could read my mind.

“Any luck?” I asked, not caring about how gruff I sounded. I leaned back against the dresser, my arms crossed against my chest, and cast my eyes to the floor. I couldn’t look at my team right now. Everything felt too fresh, too close to the surface, and I worried I’d see pity or disappointment in their eyes.

“I gathered her name from the Inn’s system, and from there, I searched her social media and the local paper. Her name’s Holland Kyler. She’s about to turn twenty-nine, has lived in Foolshope her whole life, and has worked at the Secret Keep Inn for the past four years. She graduated at the top of her class with scholarships to several universities, yet chose to enroll at the local community college instead. She dropped out after two years and then completed a general studies degree online. All intel points to her being a local, not a Savage spy.” Max’s voice dripped with disdain, shocking me. It seemed I’d messed up even more than I realized if the puppy of the group was mad.

“What are your thoughts, Q?” I asked, taking a chance to glance up at him.

“She’s hiding something, but not what you’re implying. She used a different name and wore a disguise the first night I met her. But I don’t think she was running a con, more like giving herself an ounce of anonymity with the tourists.”

“What I don’t get is why she stayed here,” Max mumbled. “According to her test scores, she’s brilliant and could’ve gone anywhere. Not only did she choose to stay, but she didn’t finish. The degree she completed is practically useless. She could’ve been anything, but instead, she cleans rooms for a living.” Max stared off into space, his brain working a mile a minute as he turned over the information in his head, looking for the pattern.

“Whatever it is, she’s obviously beloved. No one in this God-forsaken town would tell me a single thing about her.” I dropped my arms, gripping the edge of the dresser behind me. “For now, we drop our search into her and get back on track with the job we came here to do. I spoke with Jackson before I came in here.”

“And?” Quentin demanded, apparently picking up on my body language.

“We have a week to find the killer and recruit. If not, Ryan’s team will eliminate all the potential targets to stop them.”

“Shit,” Max cursed as Quentin stewed silently. They both knew what it meant to lose this asset.

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