Ten years ago, I met someone who marked his work with that particular playing card, but he was dead. Shot him myself. The elusive Ace of Spades killer was one of my first jobs. I still had the five-dollar bill Micha paid me for the job hanging in a frame above my bed. Now, it appeared as if someone had picked up his calling card.
Either that or…
“No.” I snorted.
That wasn’t possible.
I didn’t make mistakes.
Dropping the flower on Ricky’s body, I spun around, ready to twist the suppressor off my Desert Eagle, but stopped dead.
Standing just inside the door was a woman with her mouth open in shock. My eyes swung from her to the little boy, tightly clutching her hand.
Well, shit.
Without a second thought, I raised my gun and pumped another round into her head. Not my fault she happened to walk into the wrong place at the wrong time. Again, life was all about choices.
The little boy stared at me as the woman dropped down to the ground.
I wasn’t a fan of killing kids. It didn’t bother me. It was more of an ‘eh’ situation. Had I done it before? Yeah. When the Cartel said they wanted the whole family taken out, they weren’t kidding. But, I required a large sum to take those jobs.
The kid sniffed and looked up at me. “Are you going to kill me?”
My brow arched. That wasn’t the response I was expecting.
“Do I need to?”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
I rolled my eyes. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that, I’d be richer than Lou. Death paid well, but not ‘Kessler well.’
“Listen, kid. You’ll have to come up with something better than that.”
His forehead furrowed in contemplation. The kid couldn’t be more than eight or nine, but anyone could see the signs of neglect. He was obviously malnourished. I wouldn’t be surprised if his ribs were poking out under that dirty shirt. Maybe I did him a favor? Meaning I wouldn’t have to kill him.
There were other options. I was in Miami, and so was Ava. My sister would clutch onto this little shit and never let him go. But did I really want to do that to him? Killing him seemed like the more humane option.
Ava’s smile flashed across my vision when my finger twitched on the trigger.
Goddamnit. Fucking Chase Mathers and his quick and easy bullshit. I was definitely going to shoot that asshole.
“All right,” I sighed, rolling the suppressor off my gun. “I won’t kill you, but I’m gonna take you somewhere you can be watched.”
This was a favor for Chase. He could clean up the mess.
The kid looked up at me with tears streaming down his cheeks. “Will they kill me?”
I shrugged. How the fuck should I know what a bunch of bikers would do with a kid?
“It’s your choice. I can kill you now.” I slipped my gun back into the shoulder holster and held my hand out. “Or you can take your chances with them.”
His answer was to place his small palm in mine. Personally, I’d have opted to eat a bullet. But hey, maybe the kid made a smart choice. It wasn’t my problem. Chase could feed him to the gators for all I cared. I had better things to do.
Like head off to Loftry University and catch my little bird that flew away.
The scientific community was cutthroat and competitive. Everyone wanted to be the first to cure cancer or find proof of extra-terrestrial life. Out of all the possible breakthroughs waiting to be discovered, there was one I didn’t understand—the race to create a human clone.
Nature already crossed that finish line. My sister and I were living proof of that victory. Essentially, that was what identical twins were—a physical and genetic copy of one another. Allergies, freckles, and birthmarks were all the same. We were clones in almost every aspect except for one.
