“Jesus fucking Christ!” I screamed at Jonathan Ferris. “Are you trying to get a fucking bullet in the head?”
“Well, I don’t have your fucking phone number anymore, asshole,” he replied. He pulled out a cigarette, shoved it into his mouth unlit, and leaned against the doorjamb. “How exactly was I supposed ta warn ya I was comin’?”
“Not the fucking point.” I wasn’t sure what the point was exactly, but I knew that wasn’t it. “I’m a little on edge here, and doing shit like that is going to get you killed.”
“I’m still standin’.”
“This time.” I glared at him for a moment before I sat back and leaned against the wall. I let out a long breath and then holstered my gun.
“You seem a little more trigger-happy than usual,” Jonathan said. “What’s up with that?”
I ignored the question, opting to pose one of my own instead.
“So, what’s the deal?” I asked. “Do you just hang around my apartment and wait for me to show up, or did you become psychic when I wasn’t looking?”
Jonathan laughed. He took a few steps across the room and pulled out the end table next to the couch. He reached down the leg and pointed out a small electronic device secured there.
“Motion detector,” he said simply. He held up his smartphone to show me a blinking app with text that read “EVAN’S HOME” across the screen. “Pretty straightforward, really.”
I rolled my eyes but was mostly annoyed with myself. I should have realized he’d have lots of ways of knowing where I was and what I was doing. I would have to be careful about that.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Well, brother,” Jonathan said, “I just wanted to get a look at you and see if I could figure out just what the fuck you think yer doin’.”
“Nothing,” I grumbled. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Bullshit.” He lit his cigarette though I doubted he’d forgotten how much I hated people smoking in my apartment. He did at least eye me with a bit of a grin and then motion to the balcony.
I followed him out and leaned against the rails. He handed me a pack of Marlboros and his lighter, and we both proceeded to smoke the cigarettes most of the way down before Jonathan finally spoke.
“Lenny’s hit wasn’t unexpected,” he said, “but there were some, shall we say, unexpected themes around it that got me thinking.”
“Thinking about what?” I asked. I didn’t try to play stupid—like I didn’t know the dude was dead. It wouldn’t have helped, and I was pretty sure I knew where this conversation was going.
“Military weapon used, near the river and in the daylight, which is pretty bold. The fixer didn’t bother to wait until he was alone, either, which means a certain level of confidence, ya know?”
I shrugged and tossed the butt of my cigarette on the ground before I lit another one.
“And sometimes…well, sometimes when you’ve been around someone for a long time, you just recognize their work, ya know what I’m sayin’?”
My eyes moved to his, and I knew he wasn’t just making random statements, hoping I was going to give something away. He knew I wouldn’t be so careless as to let my poker face down, and I knew he wouldn’t be making such proclamations without being a hundred percent sure.
I was going to have to kill him.
My stomach tightened at the thought. If I was ever going to call anyone in my life a friend, it would be Jonathan. He was one of the few who never pressed me to tell him about the shit I went through but somehow managed to get me to talk about more of it than I had with most people—even my shrink. It never felt like prying with him, and he always changed the subject before it got to be too intense for me.
“He already knows, brotha. I didn’t tell him shit, even when I suspected it, but he still knows. Too many hits that look like you in the area, and you don’t return his calls.”
“Haven’t received any.”
“You’re workin’ for the competition. You hate Greco, so what the fuck?”
I didn’t reply. He had to have figured I wasn’t going to answer something so blunt.
“You ain’t gonna talk, and that’s fine,” he said. “I don’t know what happened to you in the slammer, and you probably aren’t gonna tell me, but I just figured you ought to know he’ll be gunnin’ for you now. I can’t stop that shit.”
“I don’t expect you to do me any favors,” I informed him.