Page 43 of Shadow

Asher walked in.

The warehouse stretched huge and empty, concrete floor cracked and stained dark. Metal beams overhead bled rust. A few sidelights created pools of yellow, surrounded by shadow.

His breath caught in the air.

One metal table sat in the center, flanked by two folding chairs.

Draven Frost sat in one.

Dmitri stood in the shadows behind him. Large. Arms crossed. Smoking a cigarette.

Two other men stood at opposite ends of the room. Armed.

Asher scanned. One exit behind him. High windows. No other doors visible.

He walked to the table. Pulled out the other chair and sat.

Draven smiled, no teeth. “Asher. Thank you for coming.”

“You asked nicely.”

“Did I?”

“The text said ‘Come alone.’ I appreciated the clarity.”

Draven leaned back. Mid-forties. Expensive jacket. Dark hair silvering at the temples. A scar ran from right ear to jawline. He had the eyes of a crow. “You look terrible,” he said.

“Long week.”

“Tuesday was interesting.”

Asher said nothing.

“Dmitri says you knocked Carlo’s shot wide.”

Asher didn’t look at Dmitri. Kept his eyes on Draven. “And yet he got the shot off anyway. Mission accomplished.”

Silence.

A brutal wind rattled broken windows. Dmitri’s cigarette smoke drifted through cold air.

Draven studied him.

Asher lifted a shoulder. Met his gaze.

Eighteen months—more, really—of being the guy on the take.

“Dmitri thinks you were protecting the witness,” Draven said.

“Dmitri can think whatever he wants. Facts are facts. Federal response was already active. I do nothing, and all eyes are on me. I’m out. Is that what you want?”

“Convenient.”

“Strategic.”

Draven’s fingers tapped the table. Once. Twice. “Give me one reason to trust you, Asher.”

Asher leaned forward slightly. Met Draven’s eyes. “Trust me or don’t. But I’m your only source inside federal protection right now. You need to know where Roger and Destiny are going. I can get that information. Kill me and you’re blind. Keep me alive and I’ll deliver.”