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Zeke
Zeke watched as Aggie moved away from him. Her head was held high, her body language relaxed, as if she were heading in for coffee with friends. She didn’t look back once. His chest tightened and squeezed, building to a painful crescendo when the door closed behind her.
His hand was still on the handle. He got the door open a scant six inches before it was forcibly closed by a second man who’d appeared out of nowhere, dressed almost identically to the first—a study in black SWAT gear. Same close-cropped hair, blank expression, and fucking mirrored aviators.
“My instructions are to deliver her to Charley,” Zeke said, which wasn’t entirely true. When he’d called the night before to give Charley an approximate ETA, she’d thanked him and told him he would receive final payment upon safe delivery of the package. She never actually said she’d be there personally to accept.
“Charley is awaiting her arrival at a secure location.”
Zeke frowned. “Charley’s not here? Perhaps I should accompany her—”
“She’s no longer your concern, Mr. Ericsson.”
The guy shifted slightly, just enough to let Zeke know he was heavily armed. When Zeke made no move to leave, another man appeared. Then another. Zeke looked around, then spotted the glint of metal aimed his way from a sniper on the roof about the same time a tiny red dot appeared on his chest.
What the fuck did I just do?
Aloud, he said, “Right.”
“Phone, please.”
The guy standing just outside the open car window held out his hand. Zeke reluctantly put the shiny black burner into it.
“And the picture.”
“Long gone,” Zeke lied.
The guy stared at him through his mirrored shades for several long moments, then gave a single head nod to his colleagues and stepped back.
Zeke shifted into reverse and backed out of the drive, heading back toward the main road. The flat plains stretched out beyond the town, making it impossible for him to pull off without being seen, and he had no doubt he was being watched.
His chest tightened again, and he rubbed at it absently. What was his problem? He’d known this was how it would end. He’d been hired to do a job, and he’d done it. He had money in his pocket and was once again free to go wherever and do whatever he wanted.
He drove until he came to the next town, then pulled into a roadside gas station. He picked up the envelope and peered inside. Bundles of cash, more than double what he’d already been paid up to that point. Enough to cover his expenses for the next couple of years, more if he was careful.
It made the weight on his chest even heavier.
He filled up the tank, emptied his own, and got back in the Rover.
“Fuck it,” he said to no one in particular. Instead of continuing on, he went back the way he’d come.
The black sedan wasn’t in the driveway. He knew before he even got out of the Rover that he was too late. The place was empty, and Aggie was gone.
He went inside anyway and gave the place a thorough once-over. There was no indication that anyone had stepped foot in the house in the last twenty years, and no clue where they might have gone.
Zeke raked his hand down his face and stood in the center of the living room.
“FUCK!” he shouted into the empty space around him.