Page 22 of My End

Now he was minutes away from standing in front of me.

If only I could put a bullet between his eyes the second he stepped out of that black car.

But that’d be messy, and it wouldn’t do what I needed it to do.

Taking Boone out wasn’t the mission. Not yet.

I needed information. Proof. A full damn arsenal of evidence that would burn his empire to the ground and leave nothing but ash.

That meant playing the long game.

With a deep breath, I opened the door, stepped out, and headed upstairs.

The hallway was quiet, but the energy had shifted once I got upstairs. The staff had their heads down and moved fast with their faces tight.

I passed through the main foyer and stepped out the front door.

Eight other guys were already lined up outside.

We stood shoulder to shoulder on the front walk.

Me. Mick. James. Kevin. Carl. Doug. Terrence. Joel. Shane.

Every single one of them looked like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. Built like tanks. Trained killers. Unsmiling. Unyielding.

I hated to admit it, but Boone didn’t hire fools.

These guys were some of the best, but none of them wereme.

The minutes ticked by.

The air was thick with August humidity. My shirt clung to my back, and sweat rolled down my spine.

Then a crackle sounded in the radios clipped to our belts. “The crow is home,” Billy’s voice came over the line from the gate.

My spine straightened.

Seconds later, a black Lincoln Town Car crested the hill and eased down the long driveway. It glided up like a sleek and dark panther.

It stopped directly in front of the stairs.

No one moved.

Jim stepped forward and moved to the back passenger door.

He opened it with precision, and Boone stepped out.

He was exactly like I had seen in pictures and on TV.

Tall. Broad. Not in a gym rat kind of way, more like a lion who didn’t need to flex to be feared. His silver hair was slicked back and his tailored navy suit perfectly pressed. Every detail about him was curated. From his gleaming shoes to the soft gold cufflinks on his shirt.

He looked like money.

He looked like control.

And every cell in my body screamed to take him down.

Boone adjusted his cuff, straightened the lapel of his jacket, and spoke quietly to Jim. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but Jim nodded.