Page 22 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

4

Touching Base

Ace

Jay Bishop slams the building doors open and steamrolls up the stairs. I have surveillance set up in every nook of the entire complex, so I see his pale face as he jogs; I see the rage in his eyes and the despair beneath the rage. I see his chattering teeth and consider setting aside a hefty chunk of my budget to have heating installed in his apartment.

It would cost a fortune to heat the place, but it comes under basic human necessities at some point, right?

Jay begins stripping in the hall: his coat, his beanie, his shirt. He hangs each piece over his arm and goes to work unsnapping his jeans. My eyes naturally stray to the scar high on his forehead, the star-like shape where a bullet passed through in November and provided me the perfect opportunity to dispose of Jay Bishop and keep that same man, with the same skillset, but with a whole new identity so I could use him in the shadows.

He knows what I’ve done. He agrees with my choices. And he has every opportunity to go back and reclaim his old life – but he won’t. Hewantsto work with me, because we have the same objective in the end.

Jay wants whoever sits at the top of the empire taken down.

And I want the same person, for an eerily similar reason.

It’s too late for me; I’m here to exact revenge for what they did to mine, but Jay still has time. His brother is still alive and under the protection of the Feds. Jay’s trying to prevent a death, and I can help him. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t work together.

As soon as he hits the fourth floor, he pushes his apartment door open and powers up the motion-sensor cameras I installed inside his apartment.

I see every move he makes.

Every moment he spends awake at night, planning, plotting, walking laps across the floor, I watch on my monitors. Every time I tell him I see him, he walks to the windows and takes out his binoculars.

I don’t see him through his windows, and I’m kind of disappointed he hasn’t figured it out yet. He’s been trained to be the best of the best, but he’s yet to find the cameras I had installed before he moved in.

Unobservant at best. Straight up fucking careless at worst.

Stripping off as soon as he slams and locks his front door, he makes his way across the room, then into the bathroom. Once the shower goes on, I flip the feed off and sit back at my desk.

Clasping my hands together and resting my fingertips on my bottom lip, I consider our next move.

I’ll await his email to let me know what he’s found. And when I have a new name, I’ll track them down until they feel me breathing on the backs of their necks.

They’ll know we’re coming.

They’ll fear us and spend their last minutes alive hiding from us.

I collect the data. I hack databases and find out every last scrap of information until I have kindergarten reports and child support owed. I’ll have essentially buried each target with just the stroke of my fingertips, and when it’s collated, I pass my data to Bishop, who acts as my sword.

Find the next clue. Find the next target.

We repeat the process until eventually, the clues stop coming. That’s the day I can look into the eyes of the man responsible for hurting those I love.

Up until this point, my partnership with Jay Bishop has been perfect. He’s fast, smart, and savage with the way he lays down punishments on my behalf. He’s had women in the last two years since we started communications. He’s had his fun, but he’s always done the job.

I sure hope Sophia Solomon doesn’t become an issue for us, because nothing will stand in my way of collecting on what I’ve been working toward for years.

Not a girl.

Not a fun time.

Not a romance.

Not a damn thing.

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