Chapter 5

5

The night air hung thick and heavy, a velvet cloak draped over the sprawling property. Crickets serenaded the darkness, their chirps a soothing counterpoint to the man’s racing thoughts. He sat motionless on the porch, savoring the solitude that had come at such a steep price.

A price he was still paying. But not for much longer.

The man’s lips curved into a smile as he contemplated the future stretching out before him. Freedom. Real freedom, this time. The kind only obscene wealth and ruthless intelligence could buy.

And a willingness to act. That was his strongest skill. Act, and live with the consequences.

One serious injury, this time, but no fatalities. He absolutely could live with that. He’d expected worse. Going up against Jason Reilly was never going to be easy. The ends, after all, would justify the means.

He closed his eyes and lifted the crystal tumbler to his lips. The smoky flavor of century-old scotch rolled across his tongue, igniting his senses. Another perk for a man unafraid to bet it all.

But tempting as it was to savor the evening, he had one last chore to complete first.

He set down his glass, then reached for his cell phone, but his fingers hovered over the device. He despised working with outsiders. Too much was out of his control.

The risks multiplied exponentially.

But so did the rewards.

Too many to count. Money, certainly. Lots of it. And the place he’d secure for himself in this new iteration of the Consortium. The biggest prize of all.

Once the bloodbath began, he had scrambled to show loyalty and demonstrate usefulness to Seven-Five. You either joined the winning team, or you died.

The slow and the unimaginative had already been culled. Thankfully, the outsider had appeared with an offer at exactly the right moment.

Judging when to take a leap was another of his strengths. He’d recognized the upside of the outsider’s plan immediately. Now all he had to do was close the deal. With a barely audible sigh, he tapped the screen, initiating the connection he’d been dreading.

One ring. Two. Then?—

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was reedy. Nervous. A weakness he’d exploit, then eliminate.

“The package is en route,” he said, voice carefully modulated. “Contact me upon arrival.”

“And then you’ll handle it, right? The whole thing. Just like we agreed.”

Fury rose in his throat, acrid as bile. He squeezed the phone. “I already told you. We have a deal. Question me again, and I’m out. Are we clear?”

“Sure. Yes. Right. Sorry.” The words tumbled out, a desperate litany.

He took a steadying breath. “Once you can confirm that Jason Reilly is there, contact me through the usual channel.”

“Dead drop A.”

The man closed his eyes, counting to ten. When he spoke, his voice was pure ice. “Why don’t you just broadcast the entire plan on social media? Yes. The agreed upon drop.”

“What then?”

“You’re not in the loop on that. The rest will unfold at my discretion. Leave the signal then stay out of the way.”

“I can do that.”

Possibly . If not, he’d have a contingency plan on hand. The Outsider could be eliminated earlier than planned.

“I’ll be invisible. I’ve already got plans to?—”

He hung up, tossing the phone onto the table beside him. The chirping crickets seemed louder now, their song a mocking reminder of all the variables still in play.

But he’d come too far to falter now. The pieces were in motion. All that remained was to see the game through to its bloody, inevitable conclusion.

He reached for his scotch, allowing himself a small smile. By this time tomorrow, it would all be over. His bank account would get a huge bump. And the highest levels of Seven-Five would know he was a man they could trust.

He held his glass up to the rising moon, enjoying the play of light through the cut crystal.

To the victor belong the spoils .