Chapter 12

Ghost stoodon the terrace of the high-priced flat, the golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over the landscape. He lifted his glass of whiskey, watching the amber liquid catch the fading rays. The drink of the newly rich, he mused, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Of old white guys, and street kids like him, who made good.

The space was stupid expensive, but the neighborhood was ultra-exclusive. No one who knew him in his other role would run into him here. A great place to do business. The luxury intimidated, and besides, he liked it.

The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Javier rushed out onto the terrace, his face etched with concern. “The bookkeeper didn’t admit to anything. He swore he hasn’t talked to anybody about the op.” Disgust laced his voice.

Ghost took his time putting down his glass, the crystal clinking softly against the metal table. He turned to face Javier, his eyes narrowing. “You finished it, right?”

Javier nodded, his shoulders tensing. “‘Course.”

“Left him where he’d be found easy?” Ghost’s voice was low, a dangerous undercurrent running through his words. Offing the mechanics had been a message to the wrenches. This warning went out to his new partner. Stenberg might believe he ran the show, but he was about to be proven wrong.

Cooperate, or die.

Actually, cooperate, then die was a better fit. Stenberg wouldn’t outlive his usefulness, either.

“Like you said.” Javier shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his unease palpable.

“Good.” Ghost picked up his glass again, taking a slow sip of the whiskey. The smooth liquid burned a path down his throat, a familiar warmth spreading through his chest.

Javier continued to look worried, his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. “So now we don’t have an insider. That gonna be a problem?”

Not even close. But he couldn’t let Javier in on his biggest secret. Not yet. Probably not ever.

You never knew who you could really trust. He knew that from intimate experience. Take Javier. He liked the kid. A lot. But who knew what the kid had going on behind his back?

Because everyone had a hustle.

He knocked back another slug of whiskey, blinking hard against the burn. “You worry too much.”

Using the gang’s money to front Rain Bay’s “expansion” had earned him a seat at the table. Now he planned to take the whole thing. Offing the bookkeeper was only smart business. He didn’t need the guy anymore.

And it would terrify Stenberg. Win-win.

Ghost gazed out over the sprawling city below. The twinkling lights of the buildings and streets lined the horizon beneath the darkening sky, like fat chains of diamonds strung along the base of the mountains. The cool evening breeze ruffled his hair, carrying with it the distant sounds of traffic and sirens. He inhaled deeply, the scent of the city mixing with the earthy aroma of his whiskey.

He turned back to Javier. “Be ready when I give the word. No loose ends.”

Javier nodded, his posture straightening. “No loose ends.”

Ghost dismissed him with a wave of his hand, his attention already turning to the next phase of his plan. As Javier’s footsteps faded away, Ghost allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The wealthy suburbs of Seattle were a long way from the two-bedroom place on the fringe of skid row, and now, with the world at his fingertips, he was determined to seize every opportunity that came his way.

He raised his glass to the dying sun, a toast to his own success. The amber liquid glowed like molten gold, a symbol of the wealth and power he had fought so hard for.

Another couple days, and his net worth––and his power––would blow sky high.

The best part? No one would see it coming.