When he’d polished off his breakfast, he sat sipping his coffee as his gaze lit on the forgotten package Hezekiah had dropped off. He smiled to himself and picked it up wondering what his brother had left for him this time.

  The drop box was meant to be used strictly for business, but Hezekiah and Bartholomew had both taken to placing goofy items in there sometimes. Things like movies or books they thought he might be interested in. They had even slipped birthday cards in there before, and homemade cookies baked by his sisters-in-law and nieces.

  This particular package felt a little heavy to be baked goods though, and Jeremiah turned it over in his hands to examine it. He spotted a small manila envelope attached to the underside of it, and he carefully separated the two. Then he pulled a small knife from the holder on the counter and opened the package.

  “What the fuck?”

  He stared down at the small bundle of cash knowing there had to be at least half a million dollars staring back at him. If this package was work-related, that was double his usual start fee. He frowned wondering what the hell Hezekiah was up to. Then he ripped open the envelope in search of an explanation. He reached in and pulled out a single sheet of paper that read:

  “Good day, Freelancer. Enclosed please find $500 thousand dollars in untraceable bills. The extra amount is to waive your usual 72 hour waiting period because this job must be completed within 24 hours. The mark’s name is Monique Reed. A current photograph and rudimentary schedule is enclosed.”

  Jeremiah’s frown deepened as his annoyance piqued. This was not the way he did business. His carefully crafted rules of conduct were set in place for a reason, and he did not break those rules of conduct for anybody.

  He turned over the paper looking for a contact number, but found nothing. Then he opened the envelope and turned it over, giving it a shake to make sure he had all of its contents.

  All that fell out was a small photograph, and Jeremiah picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. When he did, his breath silently hitched in his throat as he stared at a picture of Doc. His Doc. The beautiful Dr. Reed who mended his scrapes and set his imagination on fire. Someone wanted him to kill her, and they were only giving him 24 hours to do it.

  He stood up and grabbed the package of money in both hands. Then he turned it over and dumped it onto the kitchen counter, sifting through the wads of money as he searched for a contact number or some indication of where the package had come from.

  He found nothing to go on, and it suddenly dawned on him that perhaps this was a job that his brother wanted done. It wasn’t completely unheard of. Hezekiah had sent business his way before, odd jobs that he wanted handled without any trace back to the Tobin family, and his brother had paid him handsomely for those odd jobs too. But why would Hez want Dr. Reed killed? How did he even know her?

  Besides that, what could she have possibly done to warrant it? Hez knew all about his rules of conduct, he knew that killing innocent women was completely out of the question for Jeremiah, so what had Dr. Reed done to get a price put on her head?

  Jeremiah needed answers, and he needed them quick. He needed to talk to Hezekiah before he did anything else. He pulled out his cellphone and dialed his brother, but the call went straight to voicemail.

  “Shit,” he mumbled as he hung up. He quickly gathered up the money and returned it all to the package. Then he locked the whole bundle of it inside the safe in his office until he figured out what to do with it.

  He turned toward his massive computer system and punched the Doc’s name into his search program. That was normally the first step whenever a new job request came in anyway, so it seemed like a good place to begin. The program was thorough and usually took a while, which was part of the reason he insisted on 72 hours before he decided on whether or not to take a job.

  He dashed off to shower and change quickly, and then he tucked his gun into the back of his pants and grabbed his keys. He stepped into the large freight elevator and closed the wooden gate. The lift sprang to life, whisking him down to the lower level of the warehouse.

  When it stopped, he opened the gate onto the cavernous space and stepped out. He glanced over at the industrial furnace where he had disposed of his bloodied clothing from the park job the night before. Then he marched to his car and got in.

  His vehicle wasn’t much to look at, unless you were a gear head. Certainly not like the fancy high-dollar rides both his brothers liked to show off. Not that he didn’t enjoy the fantasy of those toys as much as the next guy, or that he couldn’t afford it, because he could. But his car was an extension of his office, and as such it had to be ready for anything. So his black 1970 Monte Carlo was outfitted with a state-of-the-art GPS and computer system, not to mention numerous hidden compartments that housed a small arsenal. Just in case he ever needed an extra gun … or twelve.

  He pulled out of the warehouse via an old underground access tunnel that exited a couple of miles away – far enough from home base to confuse anyone who might be paying attention. It was another feature that had sold him on making the property his home. One that had prompted Bartholomew to dub the place “the bat cave.” The comparison to The Dark Knight always made Jeremiah laugh, but he understood it. That was where the similarities to Bruce Wayne ended though, because Lord knew he was no superhero.

  As he sped through the streets, he tried to call his brother once more, but it went immediately to voicemail again.

  “Hez, it’s me. What the hell do you mean giving me a package like that? Look, if this job is a personal favor for you, you might have given me a little more to go on. You know 24 hours is not how I roll. We need to talk. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

  He disconnected the call and then pushed a button on the console of his car. The fancy GPS system chimed as it sprang to life.

  “Locate Hezekiah Tobin.”

  It was an emergency measure that he had installed on each of his brothers’ vehicles back when he had been dealing with the fallout after their youngest brother’s death. It was a way to easily track either one of them, just in case he ever needed to come to their rescue. He hated using it now because he didn’t want to invade Hezekiah’s privacy, but it wasn’t like they weren’t aware of the device. They had both signed off on it years ago, and Jeremiah had never abused it. But this was an emergency as far as he was concerned.

  A map of the entire city of Carson Beach, Florida came into view on the screen, and a second later a small red dot flashed like a beacon, indicating the current location of Hezekiah’s car with a soft “beep” as it moved. Jeremiah floored it, speeding off in the direction of the tiny red dot.

  He tracked his brother to a nondescript house in a middle-class neighborhood and pulled over across the street from where Hezekiah’s car sat parked. He knew exactly where they were. He recognized the house across the street as the home of Charmaine Turner. Charmaine had been their brother Malachi’s girlfriend — the mother of Malachi’s two young sons. Jeremiah took a deep breath and sighed as he shook his head. He didn’t have to wonder what Hezekiah was doing here.

  He looked down at the time and wondered just how long his brother would be inside the house. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to waste here, but he didn’t want to go barging in on them either. He told himself he could afford a few minutes, and he anxiously tapped the steering wheel with his thumb as he waited.

  Half an hour later, he stood outside leaning against his car as he watched the front door of the house, almost willing Hezekiah to come out soon. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just walk over, knock on the front door, and ask to see his brother. He could. He simply didn’t want to embarrass either one of them, or put them on the spot. He was trying to be respectful in an awkward situation. But he couldn’t wait much longer.

  Suddenly the front door opened and Hezekiah stepped out onto the porch. Their eyes locked for a moment, and even from his vantage point across the street, Jeremiah could see the surprise give way to pissed all over his brother’s face.

  Hezekiah descended the porch steps and walked briskly to his own car, and Jeremiah followed after him. He opened up the passenger side door and slid inside just as Hezekiah slammed the driver’s side door shut.

  “It’s not what you think, Jerry.” His tone was defensive, right off the bat.

  “I think, like the rest of us, Charmaine was hurting after Malachi was murdered, and you stepped in to comfort her.” He glanced at his brother before turning his gaze out the windshield.

  “Well … yeah. Exactly.” Hezekiah looked him over as he agreed with his statement. “And she needed help with the boys. So, I just come around every so often to …”

  “So, you’re just helping out with our nephews?” Jeremiah nodded as he interrupted.

  “Right.” Hezekiah looked him in the eye for only a brief second before he turned away.

  Jeremiah nodded again. “And helping yourself to their mother.”

  Hezekiah sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Charmaine was lonely, Jeremiah.”

  “I’m sure she was. Maya probably gets lonely too when you’re over here seeing to our brother’s girlfriend’s needs.” It was a low blow, throwing Hezekiah’s wife into the mix, and Jeremiah knew it. He felt like shit the instant he said it, but he was confused. “Man, I thought you told me this was over.”

  Hezekiah turned away from him and looked out the windshield. “It was over! But it’s … complicated. Look, Jerry …”

  Jeremiah held up a hand to stop him. “No. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Yeah, well it’s good to know you’re not passing judgement.” Hezekiah’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

  Jeremiah sighed and looked his brother in the eyes. “I kill people for a living, Hez. Who the hell am I to pass judgement?”

  “Why did you track me here?”

  “I take it you didn’t listen to my message?” Jeremiah answered without hesitation, eager to change the subject.

  Hezekiah made a slight roll of his eyes. “I saw where you called, but I was a little busy at the time.”

  “Well, that package you dropped off this morning. What the hell is that about?” Jeremiah looked his brother in the eyes as he confronted him. “Is this a personal favor or something? ’Cause if it is, I have to tell you I’ve got a serious conflict of interests.”

  Hezekiah frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “The package!” Jeremiah raised his voice as his patience began to wear thin.

  Hezekiah shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, the package. What about it? It came to me like all the others do. I don’t know what’s in it.”

  Jeremiah stared at him for a moment. “So you don’t know Dr. Monique Reed?”

  Hezekiah frowned once more. “No. Should I?”

  “And you didn’t give me half a million dollars this morning to take care of her within the next 24 hours?”

  At the mention of the dollar amount, Hezekiah looked at him like he was crazy. “There was half a million dollars cash in that package?”

  Jeremiah nodded. “Yes. With a note saying the extra amount and untraceable bills was to waive my usual 72 hour waiting period. Where did the package come from?”

  Hezekiah shook his head. “I told you, Jerry. That package came to me just like all the others do. There was a separate envelope addressed to me with my usual payment. I delivered the package to you just like I always do — still sealed, and completely in the dark about the job inside of it.”

  He seemed sincere, and Jeremiah knew his brother would never lie to him about this. “So you have no idea who the package is from? No idea who’s trying to circumvent my personal rules of conduct?”

  “None.” Hezekiah looked him in the eyes as he answered.

  Jeremiah stared out the windshield for a moment as he tried to make sense of it all. “Then you have no idea who wants Dr. Reed dead.”

  That last sentence was mumbled, meant only for himself really, but Hezekiah frowned as he watched him.

  “Who is this Dr. Reed you keep asking about? You obviously know her, and you mentioned a conflict of interest?”

  Jeremiah nodded but said nothing for a second. “Yeah. She’s a friend.”

  Hezekiah narrowed his eyes. “No, she’s not. Whoever she is, this woman is someone you care about, isn’t she?”

  Jeremiah looked at him, wondering if it was that obvious.

  “I know you, Jerry. Out of the four of us Tobin boys, you have always been the steady one. It’s rare that I see you this freaked out about anything.”

  Jeremiah frowned. “I’m not freaked out.”

  Hezekiah grinned at him. “You opened that package and took one look at your intended mark, and then you tracked me down for answers. No one knows I’m here — not my muscle, not even Bartholomew. But you turned on your fancy tracking gizmo and you followed me here because this woman is important to you. And you’re freaked out about it.”

  “Fine.” Jeremiah glared at him. “I’m a little … concerned. And apparently I’m running out of time. ’Cause I’m guessing if she’s not dead within 24 hours, then whoever paid me to do the job is going to be pretty pissed about it. Probably pissed enough to try and do it themselves.”

  “Well, wasn’t there any contact information in the package?” Hezekiah looked puzzled. That was one of the rules after all.

  “None. Which is why I assumed this was something you wanted done,” Jeremiah explained. “So whoever this is, they’ve left me with no way to contact them to refuse the job. No way to return the money.”

  “No way for you to say no,” Hezekiah added, and Jeremiah could see the realization begin to seep in. His brother understood the dangerous situation he was in now.

  “Yeah. Or so they think.”

  Hezekiah frowned. “What are you going to do?”

  Jeremiah shook his head as he stared at his brother. “Good question.”

  “Not killing women is one of your rules,” Hez offered.

  “No. Not killing innocent women is one of my rules. So, I’ve got to figure out why someone wants the Doc dead. What could she possibly have done to get a bounty placed on her head?”

  “Are you banging this girl, Jerry?” Hez suddenly asked, and Jeremiah glared at him.

  “No! I told you … she’s just a friend.” He frowned at his own irritation. Why did the question upset him so much? Lord knew he wished there was more to his relationship with the beautiful doctor.

  “Right.” Hezekiah slowly nodded his head as he watched him, but his tone clearly told Jeremiah that he didn’t believe the big protest for a single minute.

  He sighed. “I have to go. Listen, do me a favor and keep your ear to the ground on this one, all right?”

  Hezekiah nodded. “Sure. If I hear anything about someone needing a hit on a female doctor, I’ll let you know.”

  Jeremiah nodded and then opened the door and got out of the car. He sprinted over to his own vehicle and zoomed off.

  Chapter Four

  Carson Beach was an island city situated just ten miles off the coast of mainland southern Florida. Connected only by bridges to the mainland, it sometimes felt as though you were in a whole different country. One where dead presidents sat on the throne, and policies were made by whoever wielded the most fire power. Still, with its beautiful wide stretches of sand, its palm tree-lined streets, and unique shops, it was a mecca for those seeking to be beach bums, or to have the perfect vacation, and the southern district of the island attracted its fair share of celebrities, and socialites.

  Jeremiah sped through the streets of the southern district with no real destination in mind as he worked furiously to find a solution to his situation. His hands were tied. He knew the only way for him to find out who wanted the good doctor dead, the only way to get the real story was through the Doc herself. It was his only hope of getting to the bottom of this and keeping her safe. He had to get close to her.

  He huffed out a quiet breath as that thought rattled around in his brain. How long had he wanted to get close to that woman for his own personal reasons? How long had it been now since he first met her? Since that night he had encountered her in the dark hospital parking lot and begged her to help him? That had been over six months ago, and ever since then, he had been finding clever excuses to visit her in the ER. Each visit telling himself all the reasons why what he was doing was an exercise in futility. A waste of time. Pointless. He couldn’t ask her out because dating wasn’t exactly an option for him. Not unless he wanted to willfully put her in danger. And asking her for coffee the other night? Part of him had been grateful she got called away on an emergency. At least it meant she would still be safe from his world.

  But now she was already in danger, wasn’t she? If he didn’t kill her, like someone was trying to push him to do, they would eventually try it themselves, wouldn’t they? So, in this instance, asking the Doc out was the only way he knew for sure that he could keep her safe.

  Decision made, he pulled over and turned to the computer in his car. With a few keystrokes he connected to the master computer back at his apartment, and accessed the search program he had initiated before he left. The program was still doing its thing, running a complete background check into Monique Reed, looking at every paper record ever created during her life — from her high school transcript to her credit report. If she had so much as stolen a candy bar at any time in her life, Jeremiah would know about it once the program finished its search. But for right now, all he needed was an address and a phone number.

  As he retrieved that information, he did notice that so far the program had not found any warrant out for her arrest in any state, and that she had never been in trouble with the law. The information didn’t surprise him. It was exactly what he expected to find, but it only made him wonder all the more … why would anyone possibly want her dead? The question strengthened his determination to find out who exactly was after her and why.

  The program would take a few more hours to complete its search, so he punched the doctor’s address into his GPS system and pulled out into traffic. As he drove toward her home he pulled out his cellphone and dialed the number the computer had given him.

 

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