SKULL
a man dined alone. He’d combed the usual care-free spikes out of his hair, styling it into something more suave and sophisticated. The full tattoo sleeves down his arms were concealed by the white button-down shirt. Some jobs required him to put his ink under wraps. Images such as the cracked skull with the rose adorning its forehead didn’t exactly fit in at Anthony’s.
He was known for that tattoo. His buddies called him Skull.
The Man paid good money for him to blend in—and good enough money for Skull to order a forty-dollar steak. The job was beyond easy—for now. All he was supposed to do was sit and watch for a woman named Angelica Read. He would recognize her as a petite Hispanic woman with long black hair, fashionable style sense, and a light Mexican accent.
And just like The Man had said, there she was, sitting with none other than Roland Markham, wining and dining the night away. The bug he had dropped in her purse in passing fed every word of their conversation into an invisible piece in his left ear. When she left, it would track her location.
Regardless, he was to never let her out of his sight.
It was worth getting in a good meal now. Running surveillance without backup was a demanding job. But Skull was used to it. Discreet information was his business. And the only other person in on the contract, Bud Weber, was both an idiot and out of The Man’s graces. That’s what you got for insubordination. In a game like this, you didn’t run around following personal vendettas, shooting targets that weren’t included in The Plan. Bud had taken offense to Jason’s father, Tommy Thomlin, for being a decent human being. The boat captain had reported that Weber beat his foster child, and that raised Weber’s ire. Well, Bud shouldn’t have touched the girl in the first place. Getting arrested on an unrelated charge could ruin everything. And The Man would be none too pleased.
At one time, Skull wondered why The Man kept Weber around at all, but eventually the answers came clear. Bud was a good gun. He could keep a crime scene pristine. He had a sixth sense that kept him both alive and beyond the reach of the law. Once you understood how many murders Bud had committed—and gotten away with—you understood why he had been on the contract.
But most importantly, The Man thrived on people he could manipulate. And Bud was nothing if not manipulable, just as Charles Hart had been. When working with The Man, you couldn’t show emotion. Not without exposing yourself to him. He would use you every bit as much as he did his victims. The Man always got what he wanted.
There was only one other person on the team, a brilliant teenage boy named Baron Hackett. He was currently serving time, however—a move that had been carefully planned and executed. The boy would be out soon; his impeccable behavior behind bars was also carefully planned. There was an accomplice Skull would have trusted. But that didn’t help Skull tonight. He’d have to do everything solo. So long as Angelica didn’t become suspicious of him, it shouldn’t be a problem.
And the subjects of his inquiries never became suspicious.
Roland Markham and Angelica Read finally rose from their table. Skull gave them a few minutes, then casually followed. He stopped outside the door to light a cigarette, noting that Roland and Angelica were still talking next to their cars. Their conversation buzzed in his ear, but it was meaningless. He would smoke and enjoy the evening, and if they talked long, he would pull out his phone and pretend to make a call.
But the two hugged goodnight and got into their own vehicles.
Skull dropped his cigarette and ground it under his toe. He made his way casually to his car. It was late, and in all likelihood, Angelica would go straight to her hotel. If she did, he’d learn what room she was in, then try to get one nearby. In the morning, he would be up early, ready to follow her wherever she went.
The Man couldn’t manipulate his victims without knowing every last detail about them. Luckily, being nosy was Skull’s specialty.