Page 100 of Isaac

It’s jealousy, I tell myself.

Jealousy and coincidence.

Then shit unfurls.

Late one evening, as I step foot into my office, a neatly creased piece of paper flaunts itself brazenly from the dark expanse of my desk. Like an insolent wink.

Tucci's next "shipment" arrives tomorrow. 600 E 11th St. 10 PM,the note reads when I unfold it.

And then I look at the signature on the bottom in small neat letters.

Someone who wants to help your cause.

What the fuck!

My heart stutters in my chest. A strange mix of anger and anxiety shoots through me. This could be the break we've been waiting for–the evidence we need to bring Tucci down once and for all. To eliminate the fucker.

But nagging questions immediately rush through my head.

Who played postman?

Was he the one who wrote the note too?

Why is this person wanting to help my cause?

What’s his gain?

And the more I think about it, the more I realize it’s someone on the inside. Someone who knows about my beef with Tucci, someone who knows I want him gone for good. Someone who even possibly guesses why.

My heart's drumming a wild beat in my chest as I dart over to the security footage. Pulling it up, I scan it with desperate hope. It spits back nothing but static shots of an empty office, then figures—most of my crew. They all have access to the office. It could be anyone; Ricky, Jeremy, Flynn, Hawk.

My gut twists. The words on the note burn themselves into my mind. I don’t know if I should believe them. But if that’s true, this could be my chance to prove Tucci's a fucking snake. The risk is great, but the potential reward is greater.

Drawing out my phone from my pocket, I punch Jeremy's number with practiced fingers. "I need you here."

He’s in my office in ten minutes.

"We've got a lead on Tucci's next shipment." I hand him the note. "I don't know if it's what I think it is but it's worth checking out."

His sharp eyes scrutinize the creased paper under muted lighting for what seems an eternity before his gaze returns to mine.

"You know who left it?" he asks, his voice heavy with skepticism.

"No."

"It’s a trap, Blade," he concludes.

"And if not?"

Jeremy shakes his head. "Someone is messing with you."

"Bit too upfront for an ambush."

"Not sold on it, boss."

"I don’t like it either," I admit, the icy edge of reality brushing indiscreetly against my senses.

He quickly glances up at me as he passes the note back, his dark eyes meeting mine again. We stare at each other for a few heartbeats, then I say, "Let's round up the crew." Pause. "And make sure Hawk's with us on this one."

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