“Safe?” I said. “Until you run into someone like me?”
He swallowed. “Are you gonna let me go?”
I drew back, let him slump down and catch himself. He didn’t look relieved. Only surprised.
“Listen real close,” I said, finger in his face. “Tell your bosses they’re blowing their money. We’re way ahead of them. If you or any of your Crew want to live, stay the fuck out of our way. Give me your fucking phone. Right now.”
He unlocked the phone with a quick thumb-swipe, hands trembling, and I yanked it from him before he could think of wiping it. The screen was already on the Crew app--a black background, a red devil’s mask icon, and a joblist that looked like a mercenary wet dream.
I scrolled down, scanning the flags and notifications. Job locations sprawled the city, some with profile photos, some with “ACTIVE” blinking like a curse. Another pop-up job came through as I watched: “Package pickup, South Station. Code phrase: Morning Glory.” The payout was more than I earned for a hit ten years ago.
“Who else is on your crew?” I asked without looking up.
His voice vibrated with fear, or maybe humiliation. “They don’t tell you. It’s, you know, decentralized or whatever. If you fuck up, you’re on your own.”
“And you thought you could tail a DA with this face?” I said, flicking his jaw with the phone as I snapped a picture of him, just in case I needed a memory trigger later. His eyes watered, but he didn’t flinch.
“I’m just supposed to keep track. That’s all. Sometimes we just watch, sometimes we’re muscle. Sometimes they tell us to, I dunno, leave a guy alone, or drop something off.”
He was a watcher, then, just a pawn—but it meant that somewhere, higher up, someone had eyes on the fucking DA. Someone had eyes on Ruby.
Someone I hadn’t even accounted for.
If I was afraid before…and I had been afraid…I was terrified then.
I pocketed his phone. “I’m keeping this. I highly recommend you get a real job. If I see you watching her again, I will kill you. What’s your code?”
“0001.”
“Fucking chump. Go on. Get out of here.”
I walked to my car as the man scrambled to his. I watched him drive away real fucking fast. I glanced at the screen one more time before I locked it. Another job pinged in. Something about a councilman’s daughter. I didn’t care. I had my own to worry about.
My own little girl with two crooked braids and a stuffed bunny named Carty.
At 2:31 p.m., Ruby parked outside the community center to pick up Rosie.
I was already there.
She didn’t notice me across the lot—why would she? She was distracted, coat half-buttoned, purse slipping from her shoulder, keys clenched in one hand…gorgeous as the day I’d first seen her, maybe even prettier. She’d parked crooked. In a hurry. Rattled, probably, from the DOJ investigation, from her insufferable ex-husband, from her job…
From me.
She left the engine running as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out. I watched her from a few cars away, waiting as she walked through the automatic doors just like always. A few minutes passed. Then she returned, Rosie skipping beside her in winter boots, clutching a drawing in one mittened hand.
Ruby opened the back door, helped her daughter into the booster, pulled the seatbelt snug. Rosie started talking immediately—something about a penguin book, a funny voice. Ruby murmured back, soothing and distracted.
Then she shut the back door.
And turned.
And saw me.
By the time she caught up—by the time her mouth opened in something that wasn’t quite a scream—I was already sliding into the driver’s seat, locking the doors. Rosie was secure in the back seat, humming to herself, and she looked up at the thud of the door.
My heart fucking melted when my daughter met my eyes in the rearview. “Key!” she said with a big, beautiful smile. “What are you doing here?”
Ruby was at the window, staring at me like she was watching a horror movie. I kept an affable smile on my face; this would be for the best, even if Ruby didn’t know it yet. I smiled back at Rosie.
