Chapter 19
“Ma, I’m not going to give you my new number,” I say into the phone, crouching deeper into the shadow of the alley.
Rain drips from a rusted fire escape above me, splattering onto my shoulder.
I shift away, eyes fixed on the service entrance across the street, where the evening security shift will arrive any minute now.
The high-rise gleams in the fading daylight, all glass and steel stretching toward a sky heavy with more rain to come.
“Why not?” My mother’s voice crackles through the connection, her worry wrapped in indignation. “Don’t I deserve to check in on my baby sometimes?”
“You do, and I would give it to you in a heartbeat in any other situation.” I press my back against the brick wall. “But Sebastian and his hacker mate keep stealing it from you so Aaiden can harass me.”
“He’s worried about you,” she says gruffly. “We all are.”
“Worried enough to track me down every three days?” I scan the street as the black sedan we’ve been waiting for pulls up to the curb. “I waited years for that man. He can show a little patience.”
She sighs, and my chest tightens at the familiar sound. “He misses you.”
I straighten as two security guards exit the vehicle. “What he misses is having me on my back, begging.”
“Jade!”
I wince at my mother’s shocked squawk.
“Sorry.” I rub my temple. “I should have just gone to art college with Ezra.”
“Really?” she asks with a hint of hope. “Because there’s still time. You’d only be behind your peers by—”
“No, not really, Ma. Look, I need to go. My job is about to start.”
“What job? Jade, you haven’t told me anything about what you’re doing, who you’re with—”
“The less you know, the less the Rockfords can trick out of you,” I cut in. “I’ll call you in a couple of days. I promise.”
I end the call before she can respond, slipping the phone into my pocket. The guilt will come later, as it always does after I speak to her. But right now, I need to focus.
I push off from the wall and move toward the rendezvous point where Avery’s crew waits. The service alley behind the high-rise offers perfect cover, dark enough to hide our preparations but with clear sight lines to all entry points.
Rico smirks as his hands move over a silenced SIG. “Mama Bustly giving you grief?”
“Something like that.” I take the earpiece he offers, fitting it into place.
“Family, man.” Rico shakes his head. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.”
Lena snorts without looking up from where she’s checking her tactical knife. “Speak for yourself. Mrs. Bustly is the only person I miss from that stuffy old monstrosity. We should have taken her with us in the breakup.”
I bristle a little. Rockford Manor isn’t just some house. There’s fucking history there.
“Naw, she’s loyal to the core.” Rico winks at me. “Sneak me one of her lamb pot pies next time you see her. Nothing else compares.”
My stomach rumbles at the thought, which is something I’m growing used to. The cravings for food. Mom always did bake an excellent lamb pot pie.
Jace turns from where he stands apart from everyone else, his massive frame blocking the entrance to the alley from casual view. “You good?”
Two weeks ago, the question would’ve come with suspicion. Now it’s professional courtesy. I’ve earned that much, at least.
“I’m good.” I kneel beside the gear bag, retrieving my own equipment with practiced ease.
The tactical vest settles across my chest, and I check each pocket for my extra magazines, zip ties, and flash drive for data retrieval. My silenced pistol slides into its holster, while the combat knife straps to my thigh.
Avery approaches, tablet in hand. “Gather round for final briefing.”
The screen illuminates our faces with blue light, revealing the building schematics.
Avery’s finger taps the screen. “Target is Vincent Delgado. He’s got access codes to the offshore accounts our client needs.
” His eyes sweep over our group. “High risk, big payout. I’m talking two months of vacation for all of us. ”
Rico brushes the back of his fingers over his cheek. “I could use a refresher on my tan.”
I study the floor plan, committing exits, security positions, and blind spots to memory.
This target is better protected than the men I’ve been going after, but he’s also not playing around with low-level scum like Tony.
No, this man is operating from a fortified penthouse with multiple layers of security.
“He has six guards on rotation, full camera coverage except here and here.” Avery points to two maintenance corridors. “Elevator requires a keycard and fingerprint.”
I snort. “Why do they all use Sentinel Systems?”
Avery’s eyebrow raises. “You’ve dealt with them before?”
“Rockfords own thirty percent of Sentinel’s parent company.” I slide an electromagnetic override device into my pocket. “Sebastian had me test their vulnerabilities last year.”
Rico whistles. “Man, having an insider is starting to grow on me.”
I smirk, letting Rico’s comment hang in the air, while my gut twists. The ease of this team, the way they’ve started to trust my expertise, feels good. Too good.
If Avery ever turned on the Rockfords…
Raphael managed to choose sides. Could I? My fingers move over the tactical gear Caleb taught me to use, knowing my answer but not ready to accept it.
We split into teams, with Rico and Lena covering the ground floor exits, Jace handling the security hub, Avery coordinating from the van with Raphael waiting behind the wheel in case we need a fast exit.
I get the primary objective. Delgado himself.
I slip through the loading dock and into the service corridor, my stride confident and unhurried. The harsh fluorescent lights buzz overhead as I pass storage rooms and maintenance closets.
When I reach the staff entrance, I nod to a janitor pushing a cart before turning down the hallway that will lead me past the security office toward the private elevators.
I pass the electromagnetic device over the card reader, watching the light flicker from red to green.
The fingerprint scanner proves just as simple, the print gained by using a piece of tape lifted from Delgado’s wine glass at a restaurant yesterday and transferred to a silicon mold. Security is only as strong as human behavior allows. Sebastian taught me that.
Fifteen floors up, I exit into a hushed hallway lined with original artwork worth more than most people earn in a lifetime. Two guards stand outside the penthouse doors, their posture alert but comfortable, used to quiet nights of routine surveillance.
The first goes down silently, my arm around his throat cutting off blood flow to his brain until he slumps. The second manages to reach for his weapon before my knife finds the weak point between his protective vest and collar. His body makes a soft thud as it hits the carpet.
“Two down,” I murmur into my comm. “Proceeding to target.”
Avery’s update crackles in my ear. “Four minutes until rotation change.”
The penthouse door yields to the security card I lift from the first guard. Inside, the space opens into an open floor plan with sleek furniture, abstract art, and floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city spread out below like a sea of lights.
Delgado sits at a glass desk, reviewing documents under a single lamp. Classical music plays from hidden speakers, masking my approach across the thick carpet.
Three steps away from my target, some twist of bad fortune brings his head up, and shock registers before his hand darts toward a button beneath his desk.
I lunge forward, but I’m a fraction too slow.
His finger hits the panic button as my knife enters his shoulder instead of his heart. He screams, the sound jarring amidst the gentle strains of Chopin. Blood sprays across white papers as I wrench the blade free, striking again with brutal efficiency.
“Security alert triggered,” Jace reports through the comm. “You’ve got two minutes tops.”
Delgado clutches his wounded shoulder, wheezing with pain. “Please—”
“The offshore accounts,” I say, holding the knife to his throat. “Access codes. Now.”
His trembling hand reaches for the keyboard, and his fingers dance across the keys, entering credentials and navigating through encrypted screens.
“Faster,” I hiss as alarms begin to wail throughout the building.
One final password, and the screen fills with routing numbers. I plug in my flash drive, initiate the transfer, and count the seconds as the progress bar crawls.
“Extraction route compromised,” Lena’s warning cuts through the alarm’s wail. “Building security converging on all stairwells.”
The download completes. I verify the data, then drive my knife home. Delgado slumps to the floor, blood pooling on expensive hardwood.
“Use the northeast service elevator,” I respond, already moving toward it. “Security will lock down the primary shafts first.”
As the elevator doors close behind me, separating me from Delgado’s cooling body, I wipe my bloody hands on my pants. The cash transfer for our services will hit tomorrow. Five million for fifteen minutes of work. Clean. Professional. Uncomplicated by loyalty or betrayal.
I should feel liberated.
Instead, my stomach churns as the elevator descends, as if I’ve left an essential piece of myself up there beside the corpse. The Rockford missions had a purpose, even if it was just to protect the family. This was just... business and a payout.
The service elevator opens onto the basement level, and I step out into fluorescent-lit concrete corridors. Alarms still blare overhead, but down here, they sound distant, muffled by layers of building infrastructure.
I strip off the maintenance uniform as I move, revealing the tactical black beneath, and head for the emergency stairwell that will take me to the ground floor exit, where I’ll rendezvous with Avery’s team six blocks south, mission complete.
I push through the stairwell door and freeze.