The man’s face was swollen, covered with ugly purple and blue bruises, so that he was unrecognizable. Not that Justin would have recognized him if he hadn’t been. He’d never met Dr. Kevin Weiss. The biochemist had been badly beaten before he finally died of a vicious blow to the back of the head.

The next picture showed a living room that had been torn apart. Stuffing poured from shredded sofa cushions, broken bits of a coffee table lay scattered around the room, and holes pockmarked pale tan walls. And in the center, the doctor’s limp body was awkwardly sprawled in a large pool of blood.

The local news had claimed the doctor had the poor timing of coming home during a burglary attempt.

“So…I’m guessing the reporters got their story wrong,” Justin drawled, lifting his eyes to the woman sitting opposite him in the small booth of the crowded coffee shop.

Marilyn lifted one sleek eyebrow at him, her plump red lips twisting slightly. Dressed in a lilac blouse and white Capri pants, she portrayed the perfect image the middle-class suburban mom. But a hardness in her light brown eyes whispered of a past that most knew nothing of. Not even Justin, and he preferred it that way.

Justin hid his smirk behind his coffee mug as he took another sip. It was so fucking easy to irritate her. Marilyn would never have called him if the police were already on the right track with this one.

“Do you know anything about Iaso Health?” she asked, tapping her manicured nails on the table. Her firm voice was pitched just loud enough to reach him above the steady clatter of noise filling the busy coffee shop.

“Big pharma headquartered in New England—New Hampshire, I think—with a research facility up in Blue Ash. They have their fingers in drugs to treat a variety of diseases, but their big money makers over the years have been in psychopharmalogical and diabetic drugs.”

Marilyn nodded. “Dr. Weiss was one of their lead developers. Rumor has it that he was part of the Siltryptrose development that is expected to receive the FDA’s stamp of approval any day now.”

Justin put his mug down and frowned. “New anti-depressant?”

“Cancer treatment. Pill form. It’s rumored to be more effective than chemo and without most of the side effects.”

His breath froze in his lungs. The smallest of tells and Marilyn still caught it, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yes. Worth billions for Iaso if it works as they claim,” she continued.

“Makes you wonder about poor Dr. Weiss,” Justin murmured when he could draw air into his lungs again. Marilyn’s estimate of billion felt like an understatement.

“Particularly since he’s not the first.” She paused when her cell phone vibrated at the far end of the table. Glaring at it, she flipped over to look at the display. With a huff, she pushed a folded piece of paper over to Justin while she answered the phone.

“Hi, Sweetie,” she said, her voice lifting an octave and becoming significantly softer, kinder, while at the same time her eyes were narrowed in warning at him.

Justin swallowed a snicker as he picked up the paper and quickly read the story of a woman who had died in a car crash just a week earlier. It had occurred late at night as she was leaving work. The accident had been ruled a hit and run, with no leads to the killer.

“No, that’s no problem at all,” she cooed. “I’ve got to take Tyler to violin lessons in a few hours and then Isabelle has soccer practice at seven. We’ll just catch up later tonight.”

A couple minutes later she ended the call, turning her full attention to Justin who was smiling at her. “Fucking his secretary?” he mocked.

Marilyn rolled her eyes, putting her phone aside. “So cliché. It’s his marketing director.” The gentle, saccharine tone was completely gone as if it had never existed and the cold woman Justin was accustomed to dealing with settled back into place.

“Does it bother you?”

“That he’s cheating on me?” She sat back in the booth and pushed her empty tea cup and saucer aside. “God no. I’m more pissed at the notion that he honestly thinks I don’t know about it.”

“Does he know you’ve cheated on him?”

“First, I’ve never cheated on him.” Justin just grinned at her and Marilyn glared. “What you’re assuming from my past was only business. It doesn’t count. And second, the man knows what I want him to know.”

He chuckled before picking up his coffee and draining the last of it. “Sounds like the foundation for a successful marriage.”

“No, it’s not,” she countered lightly, giving a shrug. “But it is a marriage where I am in control. It works for what we both need.”

Justin stared at the prim woman sitting across from him. There was nothing he could read from her eyes or expression. Few people he’d met in his life could create such an emotional blank and Marilyn was one of the best. You knew only what she wanted you to know, and in most circumstances, it was a lie. He knew she actually was married with two kids. She lived in Lakeside Park, Kentucky in a very nice home. But that was all window dressing. While she’d never admitted to it, Justin was positive that she was ex-CIA, like himself, or maybe MI6.

“Would you like me to wipe out her 401K? Destroy her credit rating? Get her car repossessed?” he offered for the hell of it.

A soft laughter bubbled from her lips and she genuinely smiled at him. “No, I have other plans for her. The time just isn’t right yet. And I will be handling it personally.”

Justin shrugged. “Well, if you don’t need my skills for that…”

“There is this little thing that needs attention.” As she spoke, she slid another piece of paper across the table. This time, all the text was written in Russian. Justin’s spoken Russian was passingly fair, but he could fluently read the language. His eyes darted over the job description, his mind soaking in the details, analyzing and breaking down what would be needed. Someone was needed to track down the missing proof that something was wrong with the drug as well as uncover who was hiding it.

“No,” he said, the single word sharp and angry. “It’s a two-man job.”

“That’s why it pays so well.” Justin’s eyes jumped over to where she had turned over her smart phone while he had been reading. On the screen, he saw where she had typed in “22” into the calculator.

$22 million?

His heart lurched in his chest as he looked up at Marilyn. She nodded, her smile becoming slightly more devilish. The bitch knew he was interested now, even if it was a two-man job. Most of the paid work that he got from her rarely tipped the scale above $2 million. And the truth was that he didn’t need high-paying jobs. His instructions with Marilyn were to find him jobs that would allow him to net at least $6 million per year, while the rest of his time was devoted to what she liked to call his “Robin Hood causes”—missions that didn’t pay but made sure that the little guy came out ahead for once.

She flipped the screen over, laying the phone back on the table. “The difficulty and the…recent developments have forced the contractor to pay well. And while you might not like it, this one is right up your alley. You know it is.”

Shifting in his seat, Justin tapped down the need to fidget. This job was a tantalizing mix of Robin Hood and Red Hood for him. Do a good deed and get fucking paid handsomely. The stars couldn’t align better, except for the fact there was no way in hell he could do the job alone. Oh, he could easily handle the computer hacking end of things, but there was going to be a part that demanded feet on the ground, someone to potentially protect his back if he had to go inside as well.

“You know who the contractor is? This is legitimate?”

“Nothing definite, but I have a solid lead.” Marilyn shook her head, sending a lock of brown hair cascading over her right shoulder. “The contractor has been very discreet, but then I’m very good.”

“Rival company?”

“No. If you accept, I’ll send you the details I’ve gathered, and you can confirm for your conscience.”

“I can’t,” he growled, throwing up his arms. “It’s a two—”

“I have someone,” she interrupted. Her expression became smug as she met Justin’s gaze. “He’s good. Experienced. Usually a solo, but like you, this is a perfect fit for him. You accept and pay him a percentage when it’s over.”

“You’ve worked with him?”

“Not like you’re thinking, but I know his work.”

“Trustworthy?”

“No,” she said with an almost girlish giggle. “But are any of us?”

“Mar-”

“He’s a professional.”

Justin frowned. Professional meant little more than the man would honor their agreement, which he was about all he could ask for. He glanced at the job description in neat Cyrillic script again. Even without the killer payday, this was a good job for him. It would save lives. Passing it up was painful. It wouldn’t be a long job. He could do a large chunk of the prep work and research without the other guy. Just call him in at the end when it was time to go in. Maybe two, three days of actually working together…

“I…”

“Just say yes,” she said with a weary sigh.

“Yes,” he growled.

Marilyn snatched up the bits of paper, shoving them into the file containing the pictures of the dead Dr. Weiss. She tucked it into her large purse along with her phone before turning her attention back to Justin. “I’ll contact the contractor and arrange 20% upfront payment for signing to be used for expenses. I’ll take my usual finder’s fee from that and send the remainder to your account as usual. The files have already been sent over to you.”

“Bitch,” Justin grumbled but still smiled at her. She’d known he’d take the job. God, he’d been working with her for far too long. “The guy. You’ll arrange an introduction?”

“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock at The Club.”

Her words smacked him in the face. “He’s a local?”

Marilyn slid out of the booth, smiling at him as she shouldered her purse. “No, his plane arrives tonight.”

Justin’s laughter followed her out of the coffee shop. He never stood a fucking chance.