The car sat two streets back, engine off, headlights dark, close enough to see the intersection but far enough to disappear into it. Ruben watched through the windshield with his jaw tight and one knee bouncing, a habit he thought he'd trained out of himself years ago.

The bike went down first. Then the man on it.

"No," he said quietly, to no one, to the glass. "No, no, no."

He watched his hired man's head meet the roof of the cab once, twice, a third time, watched the body go slack in her grip, and something cold dropped through his chest and kept falling. He had sent that biker...