BANE

IT HAD BEEN twenty-four hours since the fire that consumed the bodies of four people who had every-fucking-thing coming to them. I sat back in my office chair, scrolling through the news story on my iPad, looking for any hints that they were going to start sniffing around me. Absently, I scratched at the bandage taped to my chest, the shallow wound hardly worth fucking fussing over, but I didn’t want blood leaking through my shirt.

Andy walked into my office looking like he hadn’t slept at all. He ran a hand through his dark hair and took a seat. In all the time he’d been my driver, he’d...