Sharks by Matt Rogers (best book series to read TXT) 📕

that it had a windshield intact, but he couldn’t see through it, and his attention blew right past it.

King knew it might be his own overambitious imagination, but he swore he could see the lieutenant’s pulse thudding away in a throat vein.

The cop got behind the wheel and started the engine.

King said, ‘You got plans tonight?’

Slater smirked. ‘Oh, I think I can clear my schedule.’

With practiced synchronisation, they slipped out of the stakeout car.

If they fired up the Yaris in full view of the police cordon, they’d draw the attention of every cop in the vicinity. Besides, they’d heaped trash and discarded car parts around the hatchback, masking the wheels and intact undercarriage so it looked like another shell in the wasteland. It’d be difficult enough to accelerate over the junk, let alone make a getaway without detection. Thankfully they had considerable funds to spare and a six-car garage to utilise, so they could come back for the vehicle whenever they pleased.

They’d planned for this.

They took advantage of the shadow to circle round to the back of the lot, where they commandeered an Audi A8 they’d planted on the winding gravel trail in advance. Its windows were tinted to the maximum, and the chassis was jet black. It was indistinguishable from a town car belonging to any of the whales that floated into Vegas with a colossal budget dedicated solely to hedonism.

It stood out in an industrial zone, though, so they employed discretion.

Slater let the engine purr in low gear as he coasted in the direction of Blue Diamond Road. He took a wide loop around the location of the crime scene. To neither of their surprise, there was no passing traffic. The Audi whispered to the long end of a T-junction, and there Slater hovered.

King said, ‘You sure you timed this right?’

‘I’ve done this a couple of times before.’

‘A couple?’

‘Maybe more.’

The squad car trawled through the T-junction. Behind the wheel the lieutenant failed to look right, but even if he had he probably wouldn’t have seen the Audi perched there in the dark. No headlights, blacked out windows, blacked out chassis.

A predator observing its prey.

The tail end vanished through the junction, making for Blue Diamond Road.

King smirked.

Slater waited five long seconds, then put the Audi into gear and followed.

4

Violetta finished her salad, scrubbed the dishes and returned them to their places.

They had a dishwasher, obviously, but she found calmness in the simple things, and there weren’t any pressing matters that needed her attention. King and Slater were out scouting, as they’d done for most of the last week. Mopping up the aftermath. Looking for more leads.

And that’s what they’d all do, forever and ever.

There was no end to this.

She hadn’t exercised yet today, and thought about hitting the bag for a late-night sweat before bed, but opted for yoga instead. She needed something smooth. She needed to think.

She set up a mat in her bedroom, changed into long tights and a sports bra, and began the process.

As the sweat flowed, she thought about Alexis.

She’d seen first-hand what the woman was grappling with, because she’d been through it too. The first time Violetta killed someone, it had overhauled her world. Before that, violence was something that others dealt with. A far-off concept, separated from her own reality by a clear line. When that line shatters, it can break you. You start thinking, Now I’m like them. Everyone knows. Every person I pass on the street — they know. They’re judging me. I’m not a civilian anymore.

So she’d been there for her when Alexis got quiet, went inward, became more reserved. Alexis had upheaved her whole life to follow them across the country, and she’d taken it all in stride, without an ounce of doubt, because the clear line still existed.

There was King and Slater and Violetta — righteous assassins — and then there was Alexis, a civilian along for the ride.

Which wasn’t the case anymore.

Violetta had never had to grapple with it this strongly. Her first kill had come and gone, and she’d stewed on it for a few days, and then she’d moved on. She was starting to understand she was different. Calmer in the face of danger. Maybe because she’d been a black operations handler for the majority of her adult life. The night Alexis had popped her cherry, Violetta had killed four men who’d forced entry. It was nothing to her.

Her or them. Pure survival.

Maybe Alexis would come round.

Maybe not.

If Alexis could clear this hurdle, accept what she’d have to become, she’d be a dangerous operative within a year. Maybe even sooner. Perhaps it was the fact Slater was focusing all his tutelage on her, but Violetta doubted it. Coaching can only get you so far. Sooner or later natural ability has to play a role.

Alexis was born for this.

Violetta finished thirty minutes of yoga, showered off, and climbed into bed. King’s indent was pressed into the other side, unmade from when he’d thrown the covers off earlier that morning. His scent was on the pillows, highlighting his absence.

Out of impulse she checked her phone, and as if on cue a notification pinged.

Contact name: jason.

Message: we’ve got something.

5

King notified Violetta, then said, ‘What are you thinking?’

Slater didn’t answer.

Kept his eyes locked onto the rear end of the squad car, roughly a hundred feet ahead of them in the sparse traffic. Beyond, the Strip sparkled against the night sky, drawing nearer as they doubled back up Blue Diamond Road.

King said, ‘We might as well guess what we’re heading into.’

Silence.

King said, ‘If you had a gun to your head…’

‘Profits from Keith Ray’s sex trafficking network,’ Slater said. ‘Each duffel bag packed with hundred dollar bills. Maybe a few million in total. He would have taken it with him when he fled his old HQ to set up shop in that warehouse. Now this guy’s taking it back to the original base.’

King stewed silently.

Slater said, ‘You got a different theory?’

‘I don’t think they keep the cash in-country,’ King