Otherwise Unharmed

Chapter 15—Unexpected Gift

“I keep seeing this kid I shot in when I was over there.”

Mark Duncan was noticeably pissed off at me, not that I blamed him. As far as he had known, I dropped off the face of the planet once I left incarceration. Once I came out and told him I was hallucinating, he dropped the anger and looked me over carefully.

“Is there someone you are seeing who looks like this kid and you think it’s him, or is there no one there at all?”

“No one there, not when I try to get closer to him. He just vanishes.”

“Are you hearing things, too?”

“No.”

“You did before though, didn’t you? When you were locked up?”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged. “A few times.”

“Did you see him then?” Mark asked.

“No, not until a couple of weeks ago.”

“Always the same person?”

“Yeah.” I reached up and scratched at the back of my head.

“How many times have you seen him?”

“Three or four now, I guess.” I leaned back and took a calming breath. “I don’t understand why I see him. I killed plenty of people when I was there.”

Mark sat back as well and chewed on the end of his pen.

“Tell me about killing him.”

I went over it all—how I had been on scout duty and had seen him approaching our base. I told him about the bombs strapped to him and how young he was. I even told him about my captain telling me I had done well.

“So?” I asked. “What does it mean?”

“It could mean a lot of things,” Mark said in typical, vague psychologist fashion. “Like you said—you’ve taken other lives.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he said it, and his posture changed minutely.

He knows.

I wasn’t sure what digging he had done over the past few weeks, but I had no doubt that he had found out what I did for a living, and it wasn’t paid-under-the-table roofing.

“What made this life different from the others?” he asked.

I could have called him out on it and maybe even threatened him into silence, but I didn’t see the point. If he was going to turn me in, it wasn’t like he had anything more on me than the feds already did. His knowledge was interesting and changed our dynamic but ultimately didn’t matter to me.

“He was a kid, I guess,” I said but didn’t really buy it. I’d taken the lives of gang members not much older than the insurgent teenager. I shrugged. “Maybe he was a virgin.”

“Does that matter to you?”

“Dying a virgin seems kind of shitty.”

“You’re too flippant about it for that to be the reason,” Mark countered. He was pissed again.

“So, what is it, then?” I snapped back.

“He’s a symbol, Evan,” Mark informed me. “A symbol about what is something you’re going to have to figure out. If you don’t, you’re going to keep seeing him.”

Fuck.

“Your phone doesn’t answer.”

“Sorry about that, sir.” I sat down in the lounge area of Quay across from Gavino and Andrey and handed them each my new number. Micah and Craig were standing in their designated spots off to the side, trying to look intimidating. “Technical difficulties with the other one.”

Andrey grumbled something in Russian—I was definitely going to have to learn another language if I was going to keep this up—and folded his arms.

“You have news for me?” Gavino asked.

I took two Polaroid photos out of my pocket and handed them over.

“Destroy those, obviously.”

Andrey glared at me.

“Why do you use such old technology?” he asked. “You don’t have a camera on your phone?”

“Do you want a lot of digital pictures around as evidence?” I asked. “With these—those are the only photos outside of the ones the cops take when they find the bodies. After a couple days in the river, they don’t look so pretty anyway.”

“This is pretty to you?” Andrey asked.

I took a long drag on my cigarette and leaned back in my chair. I looked at him steadily for a moment, blew smoke across the table, and then replied.

“I think they’re beautiful,” I said. “Nice clean shots—one to the head, one to the throat. Not bad, considering that rifle needs a scope on it for decent accuracy at that distance. Maybe I’ll add an ACOG or a CCO.”

“You get off on this, don’t you?” Micah snickered.

“I’ve got a hard-on just thinking about it.” I stared into his eyes until he looked away.

“It’s good work,” Gavino said. “Quick, too.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “That’s how I roll.”

“Give him his money.” Gavino looked up at Craig, who pulled a plain envelope out of his breast pocket and handed it over.

I counted the money quickly and was pleasantly surprised it actually contained ten grand. I had fully expected to be stiffed for the job.

“All right, Arden,” Greco said, “you’re in—for now. I’m gonna be watching you, though, so don’t try to get cute. You got that?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied as I tucked the envelope away. “Just let me know what you need next.”

“Next, you come to my office,” Gavino said. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team. You probably already know them, and they certainly know you. I don’t think you’ll be shocked to hear some of them are not thrilled with this idea.”

“I understand. They’ll get used to me.”

Craig snorted through his nose, earning him a disapproving look from Gavino.

“Fuck you,” I said to the big Irishman. “Maybe if you could hold your own with a gun, your boss wouldn’t need me.”

“You cocky motherfucker,” he sneered. “I don’t need any lip from you.”

“What you need is a shooting lesson. Once we get past that, we can talk about your lack of any actual tactics.”

“That’s enough,” Gavino sighed. “I’m not putting up with any of that from you boys, got it?”

Craig took a deep breath before nodding. Gavino looked over to me.

“I was just offering some of my other services,” I told him.

“You were just being a dick,” Gavino corrected.

I shrugged. I didn’t want to take this too far. If I did, I would end up with Craig watching me too closely, and I didn’t need that. I wanted to get in as deep as possible so I could find what I needed and get the fuck out of Dodge.

Chicago.

Whatever.

The five of us left the bar and entered a limo parked out front. I knew where Gavino’s office was though I’d never been inside of it. I’d been outside and down the block—perched on top of a high-rise apartment building with my Barrett and a full magazine—but never inside.

Once we’d arrived, Gavino led the way to the large, posh office—much larger than Rinaldo’s—and sat in a plush leather chair. There was extravagance everywhere—something Rinaldo saved for his home, not his workplace. Gavino obviously liked to flaunt what he had.

He went through a few pointless introductions—I knew everyone there by face and name except for one. She was introduced as Jenna Ranger and was apparently in charge of the human trafficking side of the business.

That shit just gave me the creeps.

She was tall with a body-builder’s physique, round ass, long brown hair and green eyes. She gripped my hand firmly when we shook and held it longer than she needed to for a hello. I had the feeling I was going to have to watch her carefully, but I didn’t mind the idea—she was very easy on the eyes. Her side of the profession was definitely unexpected. A woman dealing with what was usually the kidnapping and breaking of girls seemed out of place.

Another man walked into the room, and I knew him immediately as Rurik Dytalov though we hadn’t met in person. I had killed a few people under him, including one of his cousins, but as far as I knew, he didn’t know that.

We were introduced, and he eyed me coldly as he sat next to Andrey, his partner in the Russian outfit. Like most of the Russians, he was blond and of intimidating size if you happened to be scared of that. His English wasn’t as good as Andrey’s, but he seemed to understand the discussion going on around him. I had him pegged as brighter than the rest of them almost immediately and was proven right before I had even left the room.

“Mister Arden has proven himself useful in a short amount of time,” Gavino said to the group. “Though I think he has a way to go to completely prove his loyalty, I’ve decided to let him into our operations in an official capacity.”

“You agree with this,” Rurik said as he looked over to Andrey. “I tell you my concerns, but you still agree.”

Andrey replied in Russian first and then in English.

“He does have skills we need,” Andrey said, “both as assassin and as protector.”

“Just don’t ask him to do any knife work,” Micah snickered. “Apparently, he’s messy.”

I offered him a bit of a shrug.

“I’ll still do it,” I replied, “as long as you don’t take off points for neatness.”

I watched both Andrey and Gavino closely, trying to gauge their silent exchange. The Russians were in Greco’s group much deeper than I realized, and I wondered if Rinaldo understood the extent of it. Having the two organizations joining forces was always a concern—both due to the numbers as well as the access to overseas merchandise. Rinaldo wouldn’t like seeing them all work together so closely.

I’d done a lot of work to discourage that earlier in the year, but they must not have gotten the right message.

“You use knives for work?” Rurik nodded toward me pointedly before continuing in his thick accent. “There was woman here with us who was killed with knife. It was sloppy job.”

I sat motionless and didn’t respond. I knew exactly who he was talking about—Tasha Zorin. Rinaldo had asked me to send a message with her death, and I had. Andrey said something else to Rurik in Russian. The tone was one of warning, but Rurik didn’t seem interested in heeding it.

“You kill for our competitor,” he said. “How many of my people have you killed?”

“This is history,” Gavino stated.

“I have right to know! If he is man who put her head on my door, I have right to know!”

I leaned back in my seat and looked over to Gavino, wondering how he was going to let this play out. Intelligence aside, he was still obviously in charge.

“History!” he bellowed. “I know he has killed many of my people as well, and if I can set that aside to employ him, then so can you! This is business. Just business.”

Rurik glared from Gavino to Andrey but didn’t say anything else. When no one else dared say anything, Gavino spoke again.

“Mister Arden is in my employ now. Is that correct, Evan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He has already done work for me, and I have more for him to do soon. We will keep the past behind us.”

“I do not trust him,” Rurik replied.

“And I don’t trust you,” Gavino responded, “but still we manage to work together. How many caviar shipments have you lost?”

“Four,” Rurik said.

“And now I will offer you protection for your next shipment. Mister Arden will be that protection, won’t you?”

I nodded at Gavino, but kept my eyes on Rurik.

“It is settled,” Andrey announced. He and Rurik had another Russian exchange but seemed to be at an understanding when it was over. Soon afterwards, the group began to break up and go their separate ways. I was given the time and location of the next shipment and decided it was time to go do a little recon of the area to find a good spot to conceal myself.

Jenna followed me out of the office and into the hall.

“You know how to make friends,” she mused.

“It’s all part of the game.” I shrugged and started down the hallway, but she stopped me again.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said as she tossed her long brown hair off her shoulder. “You have quite the reputation.”

“For?”

Jenna laughed.

“For being a merciless killer.” She locked eyes with me and took another step closer. Her hand reached out, and she ran her fingers down my chest. “Makes me wonder in what other ways you are…merciless.”

I glanced down at her hand as it found its way to my abs and then ran up my arm. She traced the outline of my bicep with her forefinger before she wrapped her hand around it.

“Nice,” she said softly. “You like the gym, hmm?”

“I spend some time there,” I admitted.

“I bet you do.”

Without any further warning, I found her lips pressed hard against mine. Instinctively, I returned the kiss, wrapping one arm around her to grab her ass and hold her against me as her tongue pushed inside of my mouth.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

Never in my life had I been in such a situation. I’d never had a relationship that was considered “exclusive” in any way and had always gone with the flow when a woman came on to me. Rarely had I ever turned one down, and that was only when I planned on killing her later.

Jenna was a beautiful woman, and I knew taking her up on her obvious offer would work very much to my advantage when it came to getting the more detailed information I was going to need to bring Greco down. She was close to him and had been for some time. He would trust her with much more than he ever would with me.

I didn’t push her away. I let myself respond to her touch even as her hand moved to palm my dick, which also responded predictably. It wasn’t like I was going to fuck her there in the hallway, so I figured it was still a relatively safe thing to let her do. She made it clear what she wanted—I just needed to drag it out as long as possible.

She pulled away first, taking my lip in her teeth briefly as she did. I opened my eyes and looked down at her with a half-grin.

“You’re an aggressive little thing, aren’t you?”

“I take what I want,” she said simply. “Always have.”

“Not exactly a great place for such things,” I said as I looked around the hallway of the office building. I could see Micah near the doorway, watching from the window. “I have a little work to do, but let’s continue this…‘conversation’ later.”

“Most definitely.” Jenna smacked my ass before she turned and sauntered down the hall. I shook my head slightly before heading to the exit and out into the street.

For the next several weeks, Gavino sent me after a variety of characters in Chicago’s underworld. They weren’t often Rinaldo’s people—there was supposed to be a truce between the families though it was always a tentative one. It was like the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union—a necessity to keep both families operating but not because either organization liked the idea. I found out very quickly that Gavino was reaching into many of the businesses that had been carved out for the Moretti family.

Of course, Rinaldo was doing the same thing.

I had also managed to be far too busy to meet up with Jenna, though she had approached me a couple of different times. There was always someone else about though, so she had made do with lecherous glances from across the room. The couple of times we had spoken, it was clear she was far more open than she should be. With just a little casual conversation and light touches, I had already gathered some information that may very well prove useful. She liked to vent about her job a bit, and some of that venting was more than she should have let on.

At Gavino’s request, I stayed away from Rurik completely. It was clear he didn’t like me, and Gavino’s thought on that type of conflict was to avoid it. I would have preferred to handle it a bit more violently, but I was given very precise instructions to not kill anyone who wasn’t on my list.

I kept out of sight as much as possible. My traveling arrangements were still convoluted, and I either stayed at the apartment with Lia or the hotel room near Quay. I didn’t go out or show my face in public, and thus far, Rinaldo had yet to contact me.

Somehow, my hearing date kept getting pushed back as well, so I hadn’t had to appear in court with my attorney. He’d been leaving messages through the correctional center, but I hadn’t returned any of them. I assumed Trent was behind the court’s failure to offer me a speedy trial, and that was also working out well. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I actually needed to appear in court.

It was only a matter of time before Rinaldo caught up with me, but I was hoping I would have enough time to get the goods on Greco before that happened. I did talk to Trent on the phone but had avoided having to meet him in person. I claimed it was because we shouldn’t be seen together, but that only worked for so long.

He wanted to meet in neutral territory and was no longer taking no for an answer. I finally gave in but picked a place I was familiar with for our meeting—the 676 Bar and Grill in the Omni Hotel downtown.

I knew there was something not right almost immediately.

There was something about the way he walked into the bar that bothered me right away. Feds are usually easy to spot with the way they walk in like they own everything, and that was the sort of stride he had when he walked into the visiting room at the prison, but this time it was different. I couldn’t quite give it a name, but it was somehow lighter—more confident. Like he knew he had a pair of aces in the hole and everyone else was holding shit.

“Tell me what you got,” Trent said as soon as he sat down at the bar.

“Let’s get some privacy first.”

I glanced over to Michele with one “L,” the bartender at 676, and got her attention. She refilled my scotch, got Trent the same, and I told her we were moving to the seats by the window. We made our way over to the grouping of chairs and couches that overlooked Michigan Avenue and sat down.

“Well, asshole? What do you have?”

“You’re quite the charmer,” I said with a chuckle. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”

“Shut up and tell me what you know. You’ve given me nothing but shit for two weeks. If you give me something worthwhile, maybe I’ll tell you what I’ve heard.”

I stared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t appear to be bluffing. I wasn’t sure what kind of information he had, but it must be noteworthy enough to taunt me with it. Bringing it up so soon, though—that also meant he wanted me to hear whatever it was.

That was not good news.

If he had something he wanted to tell me so badly, it would most assuredly be something I wouldn’t like hearing. It also meant I needed to hear it, so I made sure Trent had something he would consider valuable.

“I have something you’re going to like,” I told Trent. I sipped my scotch before setting it on the table in front of me and leaning forward. “Greco’s got a woman working for him—a Miss Jenna Ranger. She’s the bitch that collects the goods for one of his businesses. She’s high up in the organization and thinks she’s invulnerable.”

“Yeah,” Trent said as he narrowed his eyes at me, “I know who she is. What about her?”

“Well, Greco’s not happy with her at the moment. It seems the last shipment of people-cargo wasn’t what it was supposed to be. His idea of punishment is that he’s going to go along for the ride personally when she picks up the next batch.”

“You mean he’s going to be there himself when she picks up a bunch of kidnapped kids, illegally smuggled into the country?”

“You got it.”

I could see actual drool as it formed at the corner of his mouth.

“When? Where?”

“The when is around the middle of October,” I said. “They haven’t decided on a where yet.”

“That’s still a ways off. When are you going to have the details?”

“Probably shortly after I bang the bitch,” I replied. I didn’t really intend to fuck Jenna, but I also knew Trent expected that kind of shit from me, and it might throw him off Lia a bit.

He smirked.

“You are a low-life little shit, aren’t you?” he said. “Every once in a while, I think maybe there’s something redeemable in there, but there isn’t. You’re just a fucked up, murdering, shell-shocked, piece-of-shit bastard.”

I’d been called worse.

“The shipment is coming from the Caribbean, probably Haiti or the Dominican Republic. I think they’re still in the process of acquiring the cargo.”

“Sick fuckers.”

I happened to agree with Trent on that one. I might not have had a whole lot of scruples, but that was one of them. He finished his drink and started to stand up without commenting any further.

“You had something to tell me?” I reminded him.

Trent’s eyes glittered as his mouth turned up.

“I do,” he acknowledged. “It’s pretty good and ripe, too.”

“So spill it.”

“Moretti knows you’re working for Greco,” Trent said with a sadistic little smile. “He’s on to you, seriously pissed off, and has decided to teach you a lesson by putting out a contract on your lady friend, if you even care.”

There was no lie in his voice or posture—none at all. What he was saying was completely true, and now Lia was officially caught up in the shit-storm that had been brewing since Trent and Johnson first visited me in jail.

“It’s an open contract,” he said. “First one to her gets the cash.”

“How much?” I asked.

“You thinking of taking the job?” Trent said as he laughed. “Kill her while you fuck her, maybe? That would make it an easy hit.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled.

He laughed again.

“So she does mean something to you? You got a funny way of showing it.”

“Answer the fucking question. How much is the contract worth?”

“Fifteen,” he told me. “Moretti must think she’s going to be an easy one to get.”

I wasn’t sure if I was more insulted that my girl’s price was so low or more thrilled that it wasn’t the kind of price that would attract hunters from out of town. Ultimately, I was glad there wouldn’t be too many others looking for her. I would probably be able to come up with the complete list of Chicago-based contract killers within a couple hours. I knew most of them already. We might not have afternoon tea together, but we were still well aware of each other’s activities.

I wondered if my reputation alone would keep some of them away but decided it would actually work against me. There were definitely those who would consider a feather like that in their hats to be a drop on me even if Lia was a relatively easy target on her own.

I needed to get back to her.

“Thanks,” I muttered as I stood, downed my scotch, and began to move away.

“You make sure you get me the where long before the time comes. You got that, Arden?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I was extra cautious on the way home. I took a much longer route and watched my back constantly. At one point on the L, I knew there was someone in dark clothing who had stepped on just as I had on the last two stops, and I tried to get a glimpse of him in the car. I couldn’t find anyone and considered that it might be my paranoia acting up again, but Lia wasn’t worth the risk.

I jumped out at the next stop and hung around outside the train for a while. I saw the same guy again—long dark jacket that was too heavy for the season and a hoodie pulled up over his head. I stepped onto the next train, watched him carefully as he did the same, and then I jumped off before the train started to move.

He was waiting for it and stepped off as well.

Well, that confirms that.

I wasn’t going to fuck around with him, either—not when Lia was my biggest concern. I walked out of the station and toward the alley nearby. I could hear the footsteps behind me—at this point he had to know I was on to him—and they were getting closer. I moved quickly over the puddles and junk on the blacktop, around a group of dumpsters, and into a doorway leading to the back entrance of an apartment building. I went up a half flight of stairs, checked that there was no one on the stairwell, turned, and waited.

He was inside just a moment after I turned, and I didn’t give a shit if it was paranoia or not. I pulled out my Beretta and fired.

My ears rang from the deafening blast as it echoed around in the stairwell. At the base of the stairs, the guy was struggling slightly, but there was no way he was ever going to get up again. The blast left a huge hole in his back, and there wouldn’t be any fixing that. Still, I moved back down the stairs and flipped him over with my boot.

I knew him.

Arthur Douglass was a small-time, independent contract killer. He wasn’t very good at it, tended to leave a mess and a lot of evidence. Though it hadn’t been enough to get caught, he still generally annoyed people who hired him. He’d obviously gone a little rogue, given the tattered jacket and hoodie. Maybe it was his idea of a disguise—I didn’t know and didn’t care.

“You’re an idiot,” I told him before I put another bullet in his head.

With my ears still ringing, I made my way back to the L and started all over again.

“Will you at least tell me why I’m packing?”

Lia was understandably ticked off. I was giving her a lot of orders but not a lot of reasons why she needed to pack a bag immediately so I could move her to another location. Once I blew up at her completely, she realized how serious I was and started doing what I said, but she was still pissed.

I couldn’t really blame her, but I also didn’t want to scare the shit out of her. Telling her there was now a price on her head wasn’t going to give her any warm, fuzzy feelings.

“You’re packing because you are going to spend a few days away from here,” I said.

“Cryptic much?”

I went to the balcony and looked down below for anyone unusual hanging about. The only person I saw below was the bitchy old woman with the obviously pregnant dog out in the green space. It was probably about time for the pups to be born, and I wondered briefly how much cash it was going to cost me.

I pulled the curtains across the glass opening.

“You get your shit together,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m leaving for about ninety minutes. Don’t leave the apartment—not even to take Odin out. Don’t hang out around the windows. Don’t open the curtains. And don’t open the fucking door. Got it?”

Our eyes met, and I could see how close she was to losing it. I moved up to her quickly, holstered my Beretta, and pulled her against me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered against her hair. “I just need to keep you safe, okay? Right now, it’s not safe here. I was being followed on the way back here. I took care of him, but there may be others I missed. I need to get you out of here and to someplace where I know you’re okay.”

She cringed at my words and looked away from me. I wanted to apologize for a couple other things as well, like not warning her there was a contract out for her death and maybe for kissing another woman while she fondled my cock, but I didn’t. I couldn’t imagine that it would help the situation at all and had a very real possibility of making it worse.

I kissed Lia softly on the forehead, then tilted her head up and placed another kiss on her lips. She sighed and leaned against me for a moment before she pushed back with her hands on my chest.

“I don’t like this,” she said. She sounded defeated, and I didn’t like it.

“I know, baby. But I’m close, or at least a lot closer. I have some good information, and if it pans out, we could be out of here in a couple of weeks—a month, tops.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my apartment,” I told her. “I need to get a few things.”

“Should I go with you?”

I brought my hand up to her cheek.

“I’d rather keep you close, but the chances of my apartment being watched are about one hundred percent. I don’t want you seen.”

“Why not?”

I let out an exasperated breath.

“Please, I can’t explain now. Just listen, okay?”

She pursed her lips but nodded her head. I kissed her once more before checking my Beretta and heading back out the door.

“Remember—don’t answer the door. Not for fucking anybody, all right?”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

I didn’t want to waste time, so I took a slightly shorter route back to my apartment. I went up north first, so I would at least be coming in from another direction but still arrived in good time. I approached the door to the apartment quietly, listened a moment, and then went inside.

Nothing looked out of place, and maybe my paranoia was kicking in again and maybe it wasn’t, but I did have the distinct feeling someone had been there. There wasn’t anyone there now, though, so I starting to collect what I had come for.

Mainly money.

I had a lot of it stashed away, and though the cops had confiscated about eighty grand in cash lying in the back of my closet, there was still plenty hidden much more discreetly. I had that much in the open just for such an occurrence. If they had found only a few hundred dollars, they would have looked a lot harder to find the rest. They hadn’t even found the bit I had taped to the underside of the dresser, so it was likely they hadn’t found any of my other stashes.

There was a lot more.

In the kitchen underneath the refrigerator’s drip pan was ten grand. There was twenty more sealed in plastic inside the toilet bowl and fifty thousand inside the air ducts. I collected cash from a few other sites and ended up with a hundred and ten when I was done.

More than enough to get us going quickly if that was what we needed to do.

Inside my front closet, I selected one of my duffel bags from the never-ending supply and started to load it with the cash. I’d already been gone an hour, and I wanted to be back as soon as possible. I’d left Lia a little freaked out and wanted to be there with her to keep her calm. I still wasn’t sure if I should tell her about the price on her head or not. Maybe she should know—the situation was just too unfamiliar for me, and I didn’t know what I should do. Every time I thought about telling her, I’d play it over in my mind. Her reaction was never a good one.

“You buggin’ out?”

My gun was in my hand and pointed at the front door less than a second later.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” I screamed at Jonathan Ferris. “Are you trying to get a fucking bullet in the head?”

“Well, I don’t have your fucking phone number anymore, asshole,” he replied. He pulled out a cigarette, shoved it into his mouth unlit, and leaned against the doorjamb. “How exactly was I supposed ta warn ya I was comin’?”

“Not the fucking point.” I wasn’t sure what the point was exactly, but I knew that wasn’t it. “I’m a little on edge here, and doing shit like that is going to get you killed.”

“I’m still standin’.”

“This time.” I glared at him for a moment before I sat back and leaned against the wall. I let out a long breath and then holstered my gun.

“You seem a little more trigger-happy than usual,” Jonathan said. “What’s up with that?”

I ignored the question, opting to pose one of my own instead.

“So, what’s the deal?” I asked. “Do you just hang around my apartment and wait for me to show up, or did you become psychic when I wasn’t looking?”

Jonathan laughed. He took a few steps across the room and pulled out the end table next to the couch. He reached down the leg and pointed out a small electronic device secured there.

“Motion detector,” he said simply. He held up his smartphone to show me a blinking app with text that read “EVAN’S HOME” across the screen. “Pretty straightforward, really.”

I rolled my eyes but was mostly annoyed with myself. I should have realized he’d have lots of ways of knowing where I was and what I was doing. I would have to be careful about that.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Well, brother,” Jonathan said, “I just wanted to get a look at you and see if I could figure out just what the fuck you think yer doin’.”

“Nothing,” I grumbled. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Bullshit.” He lit his cigarette though I doubted he’d forgotten how much I hated people smoking in my apartment. He did at least eye me with a bit of a grin and then motion to the balcony.

I followed him out and leaned against the rails. He handed me a pack of Marlboros and his lighter, and we both proceeded to smoke the cigarettes most of the way down before Jonathan finally spoke.

“Lenny’s hit wasn’t unexpected,” he said, “but there were some, shall we say, unexpected themes around it that got me thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” I asked. I didn’t try to play stupid—like I didn’t know the dude was dead. It wouldn’t have helped, and I was pretty sure I knew where this conversation was going.

“Military weapon used, near the river and in the daylight, which is pretty bold. The fixer didn’t bother to wait until he was alone, either, which means a certain level of confidence, ya know?”

I shrugged and tossed the butt of my cigarette on the ground before I lit another one.

“And sometimes…well, sometimes when you’ve been around someone for a long time, you just recognize their work, ya know what I’m sayin’?”

My eyes moved to his, and I knew he wasn’t just making random statements, hoping I was going to give something away. He knew I wouldn’t be so careless as to let my poker face down, and I knew he wouldn’t be making such proclamations without being a hundred percent sure.

I was going to have to kill him.

My stomach tightened at the thought. If I was ever going to call anyone in my life a friend, it would be Jonathan. He was one of the few who never pressed me to tell him about the shit I went through but somehow managed to get me to talk about more of it than I had with most people—even my shrink. It never felt like prying with him, and he always changed the subject before it got to be too intense for me.

“He already knows, brotha. I didn’t tell him shit, even when I suspected it, but he still knows. Too many hits that look like you in the area, and you don’t return his calls.”

“Haven’t received any.”

“You’re workin’ for the competition. You hate Greco, so what the fuck?”

I didn’t reply. He had to have figured I wasn’t going to answer something so blunt.

“You ain’t gonna talk, and that’s fine,” he said. “I don’t know what happened to you in the slammer, and you probably aren’t gonna tell me, but I just figured you ought to know he’ll be gunnin’ for you now. I can’t stop that shit.”

“I don’t expect you to do me any favors,” I informed him.

“Well, I fuckin’ did anyway,” he replied.

I looked up at him as he stepped closer to me.

“I wanted to give ya somethin’.” Jonathan pulled out a folded up piece of paper and handed it over to me. “I know it’s been a while, and I don’t know where we stand now, but I said I’d find out what I could, so I did.”

Tentatively, I reached out and took it from him. As I unfolded it, the letterhead was instantly familiar—a stylized crucifix within a circle of woven wheat. There was also a State of Ohio seal on the bottom of the paper, and across the top were the words “Certificate of Adoption” followed by my name.

There were two names on the paper with signatures scrawled below them. The signatures were just above the words mother and father. I could feel my pulse in my wrists as I looked over the document confirming my adoption from Alexander Janez and Anita Arden to Sister Margaret Arden.

My maternal grandmother.

I knew who Sister Margaret was—she had often taken care of me and the other children at the orphanage. She died when I was in seventh grade—around the same time Mother Superior started spending more time with me.

“I confirmed that they’re both deceased now,” Jonathan said. “So is the nun who adopted you, but there’s addresses on the back that’ll tell you where they’re buried. You know, in case you wanted to go there or somethin’.”

I couldn’t speak as I stared at the paper and tried to make sense out of it beyond the obvious. Were they too young to take care of me? Were they pressured into giving me up by her mother? Why raise me as an orphan instead of letting me know who my grandmother was?

Jonathan opened the sliding glass door, and I followed him dumbly into the apartment and sat on the couch. My heart continued to pound. I could only stare at the paper and try to make some kind of sense out of it. Questions I had considered far beyond answering were popping into my head though I hadn’t thought about it all in years. I had decided I didn’t care—whoever my parents were and why they decided to ditch me would always remain a mystery. Now that I had a smidge of information, I wanted more.

“Well,” Jonathan said quietly, “I just wanted to give ya that. I’ll leave ya be now.”

I found my voice.

“Hey, Jon?”

“Yeah, brotha?”

“I have something for you.” I went back into the bedroom to retrieve the “Save Ferris” T-shirt I had bought for him some time ago, still in its plastic bag. I handed it over to him, and he opened it up.

At first he looked a little confused, and then his eyes darted over to me.

“It ain’t my birthday,” he remarked.

“I missed your birthday.”

“That was six months ago.”

“I bought it in December.”

“Why were you going to kill me in December?”

Jonathan always was a lot more perceptive than he appeared, and I needed to remember that. I smiled a half smile at him and shrugged.

“I was just checking on something. You were clean, though.”

“Uh huh,” Jonathan mumbled skeptically.

“I was considering it a few minutes ago, too.” I smiled a bit more.

Jonathan laughed.

“I guess I’m definitely thankful for this—in more ways than one. Thanks, brotha.”

We shook hands, and he started for the door.

“Oh yeah,” Jonathan said as he snapped his fingers. “I got ya something else, too, but I didn’t bring it with me. Here ya go.”

He fished around in his pocket, came up with a couple lighters, shoved them into the other pocket, and then pulled out a key. He tossed it to me with a flick of his wrist and walked out the door.

It was a numbered locker key with the name of one of the gyms in the area engraved on it. Far too curious to wait, I made my way to the nearest bus that would take me to the gym. Inside the locker was a large gym bag. Sitting on top of the bag was my old phone, containing several dozen messages from Rinaldo, Mark Duncan, and Jonathan. I looked around to confirm no one was watching me, pocketed the phone, and then quickly unzipped the top of the bag to peek inside.

It was my Barrett.

Nothing could have surprised me more.