Prologue

West

There's a saying somewhere that "fear of the unknown is the greatest fear of all." That was one emotion I was all too familiar with, not only on a personal level, but a professional one as well. For twenty years, I had been committing first-degree intentional homicide, and watching fear overcome the strongest of men. Policemen. Firemen. Cage fighters. Even a Navy SEAL.

One of the first things I learned in my career as a contract killer was that there was a fine line between genuine strength and a pussy.

Wayne Lawson, muscled-up brother to the founder and owner of Cardomia USA, one of the world's leading manufacturers of playing and trading cards, was the true definition of pussification.

"You can't kill me. I'm the owner's brother and have a baby on the way."

"Oh, but I can kill you. And will. Unless, however, you want to man up and tell me who you're selling the gaming cards to."

"Fuck you! You have the wrong man. I haven't taken shit!" He blinked rapidly, his thin bottom lip quivering.

I pushed the jaws of the pliers underneath the left side of his fingernail, then slowly pried the nail upward, removing it. His scream mixed with the sound of piss hitting the floor sent a bolt of energy down my spine. I lowered the pliers to the middle of the nailless finger next to the others. "Ready to talk now?"

"Go to fucking hell," he said, spitting blood from his mouth where he was missing three teeth.

"I'll see you there."

The single gunshot blasted the air with a muffled pop, and his body twitched as the bullet penetrated his skull. Eyes wide open with a trickle of blood seeping from the wound, his body went limp and his head fell forward.

I'd given the guy every opportunity to turn over the stolen merchandise or admit to taking the exclusive gaming cards worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Damn shame he gave up the chance.

"Ignorant fuck," I uttered to no one as I returned the Glock to my coat pocket.