Undetected, invisible, a mere shadow melding into the warm December night’s inky darkness, Justin King ghosted toward the side entrance of the Perth mansion. Every facet of his attire was custom fitted—both to the man and to his purpose. His customary thousand-dollar, handmade, Italian leather dress shoes had been replaced with equally expensive, specially crafted ankle-high boots, highly flexible with soft suede soles that left no distinguishable footprints. The ten thousand dollar bespoke Seville Row business suit of a successful restaurateur was replaced by a uniform of black, body-hugging tactical material, a skull cap of black wool and black leather gloves that molded themselves to his fingers so snugly they did all but leave fingerprints. He drifted to the left behind a large acacia bush. The move kept him out of the camera’s angle as he merged further into the shadows. The make and model of security camera installed outside the home picked up only indistinct movement where he was standing. He used the environment and moved when the wind shuffled through the branches to further disguise his approach.

Three feet farther up the wall, next to the water meter and electrical panel, sat controls to an alarm system. Whoever had installed the ‘state of the art’ equipment didn’t have a fucking clue how to protect their clients or the information they tried desperately to conceal. Justin skirted a small shrub and lifted his gloved fingers to the alarm panel door— only to stop short. The door to the panel box was open a fraction of an inch, almost undetectable. The adrenaline-fueled charge that hummed through him intensified and swelled.

He crouched and flattened against the exterior of the massive home and visually scanned the area before he fished his thermal imaging scanner from the pocket of his black tactical vest and palmed it. Similar to a cell phone set to vibrate, the apparatus would pulsate if it detected another body within the scanner’s two-hundred-yard range. His forefinger slowly pushed the device—the size of a deck of cards—two, 360 degree, rotations before he dropped the device back into its carrying pocket.

Satisfied he was alone, he pushed off the wall and rose silently. The pad of his index finger pressed the thin metal door of the alarm panel box open a further fraction of an inch. He glanced around one more time before he focused on the interior of the alarm panel. Sweet. He sent a furtive glance around him again before he shut the alarm panel as far as the disarmed and dissected panel would allow. The work was professional, but personally, he would have used a lithium polymer battery. At a mere 500 microns, the thin casement was bendable, and with a less than three percent self-discharge, the battery life supporting the digital looping device currently deceiving the human alarm monitor, assuming there was one, would last for up to a week. There would be no need to reassemble the system if an emergency arose. Not that most operators in his line of work went to the trouble of masking their entry. He did. It was a mark of a true professional, and it was one fucking hell of a thrill ride. Get in, get out, and nobody knows you were there or how you did it. Fuck, the rush was intense. It was better than base jumping or skiing down a double black diamond slope after launching out of a helicopter.

Justin dropped into a crouch and worked his way toward the side entrance. According to the intel he’d received, there was a redundant camera system backing up this alarm system. The rigged loop on the alarm panel would work on all but the entry point cameras and the camera fixed on his objective: the safe. Taking out the entry point camera wasn’t necessary and could alert the guards. Justin pushed a tiny pen-light from its compartment on his vest. He used the glow-in-the-dark sites he’d painted on the device to line it up perfectly with the light sensor on the top of the fixture and sent a laser-point of light to the photo-sensitive lens at the top of the porch light. The light immediately darkened. Justin lifted and entered an already open door. He replaced his equipment in its proper pocket while moving into the home quietly and efficiently. He had planned on forty seconds to pick the locks on the back door and enter, but thanks to whoever was already here, it took him four.

The blueprints to the house didn’t do justice to the opulence that surrounded him. A younger version of himself would have taken the scenic route to his objective. The ever-present need for danger and excitement hadn’t diminished, but he’d learned to control it…somewhat. The older version of himself would settle for a trinket of nominal value that he could carry away from the mission. His trophy room held pens, coffee cups, figurines and countless other tiny treasures. Stupid? Maybe, but then again, the thrill was worth the risk. The pounding of his heart while engineering the acquisition and extraction of his handler’s required information and beating high tech systems manufactured to keep people like him out…well, it was a life-affirming rush and one he would never get tired of feeling. Knowing that someone else at least as competent as himself in the art of covert entry was already here? Fuck, that was a heady sensation, and his blood, supercharged by that bit of information, thrummed through his veins. He fucking loved the thrill. He made his way from the back of the home to the front stairway. He took a moment to scan the design of the room. The target had excellent taste, but he could admire furniture another time. A glance at his watch dropped him to a crouch beside a Fendi couch. Justin glanced at the luminescent hands of his ten thousand-dollar Breitling watch and waited. Right on schedule, the slight tap of a soft heel sounded. Justin drew quiet breaths, pushed back into the darkened corner next to the couch and watched.

It was the top of the hour, and security guards were unwaveringly predictable. Ninety-nine percent of the time, if a guard was going to make the rounds, it would be at the top, bottom or quarter of the hour. This guard ambled through the front of the house and headed toward the back of the first floor. Justin pushed to his feet and watched the man through the spindles of a grand stairway. He waited until he couldn’t hear the soft tap of footsteps and sprinted around the couch and up the stairs then dropped beside an antique table at the second-floor landing. He angled his head and swept the visible area using his peripheral vision to ensure he observed the entire area without making unnecessary movements. Nothing disturbed the quiet. Silent strides took him to the suite his target used as an office where he paused and listened. Although silence met his senses, he erred on the side of caution. He pulled out a flexible snake with a micro camera mounted on the tip, opened the door slightly and angled the device through the crack. The two inch by two inch, low-light display revealed an empty outer office. Justin retracted the camera and stowed it away before he slid into the room. He smiled as he neared the next door. As he approached, a soft click caught his attention. He knew that sound. That was the unmistakable sound of a mechanical lock. The safe he was supposed to infiltrate tonight had two locks. The key code his handler had sent rested in his pocket. Unless the person behind the door had the code…The solid thump of the safe’s wheel dislodging the four-way moving bolts sent a buzz unlike any other through him. So that eliminated any question; the person inside had the key code. Whoever was working this retrieval was elite…and the adrenaline kick of observing them - unseen and unaware of his presence - was too much to resist. Fuck it. Justin opened the door a fraction of an inch and stood so he could see over the ornate wooden desk that blocked his view. His smile grew. It couldn’t get any better than this. A woman reached in and pulled out the external hard drive Justin had been sent to clone. Intriguing. He shut the door as she turned around. If it were him, he’d survey the area before he focused back on the task at hand. He counted a slow ten and cracked the door again. Her features concealed by darkness, the woman leaned over and worked a large, clunky, cloning device. Whomever she worked for needed to upgrade their tech, but then again, not everyone could work for Guardian. Justin wished he could reveal his presence to the woman. Hell, it would be nice just to talk to another expert about the intricacies of their shared profession. Justin smiled and soundlessly closed the door. Meeting her could never happen, but damn, wouldn’t that be a rush? He headed out, pausing only long enough to grab a small glass paperweight off the edge of the desk. Memento pocketed, he retraced his steps, quickly and silently, leaving as he had entered.

He’d have to make a phone call. Someone else had the information Guardian wanted him to obtain. But Justin knew his role, and he knew his restrictions. Jason, his brother, and CEO of Guardian International had only one standing order that he demanded Justin obey. Never disclose himself to anyone, for any reason. In accordance with Jason’s directive, he didn’t make contact with the other specialist. Besides, what would be the point? He assumed people of his caliber probably tended to avoid making friends in the business. It could end badly…or at least he believed it would. As there were only three people who knew what he did for Guardian, his identity would never be exposed. Justin waited at the back door until he heard the guard start his time regimented walk and slipped out of the house. He hoped there was only one sentinel on duty. If not? Well, his little friend upstairs would need to hunker down and wait for the excitement to abate before she left. Hell, on one mission, he’d spent almost twenty-four hours in a janitor’s closet hidden behind six ten-gallon buckets of floor wax. The risks came with the territory. Justin moved through the outskirts of the property. He jumped up, grabbed the top of the eight-foot stone wall and pulled himself to the top. He’d hidden his equipment bag under a bush on the other side. Justin dropped down, grabbed the backpack, and unzipped the main compartment before he pulled out a pair of running shoes. His black pants and long sleeve shirt were carefully rolled up and pushed back into the compact backpack. Sweat saturated the athletic shorts and black shirt he wore under his work clothes. The light breeze weaving through the bushes cooled his overheated skin and sent goose-flesh down his arms. From a small pocket, he pulled out a pair of wireless headphones and plugged them into his ears before slipping his arms through the straps of his gear bag and nesting it between his shoulder blades. With a glance up and down the street before he left the bushes next to the wall, he turned in the general direction of his rental vehicle and started jogging. It may be winter in New York, but the warm summer night in Perth couldn’t have been a more perfect reason to take a run and enjoy the city—even if it was two o’clock in the morning.

Justin admired the small estates along the road where he jogged. A 'For Sale' sign caught his attention, and he studied the well-lit drive leading up to an old style mansion. The striking example of American Colonial architecture punctuated the knoll where it sat and captured his attention. Bookended by the neighboring Queen Anne homes, the manor stood out as even the landscape lighting varied from the neighborhood norm and cast beautiful rays through the massive limbs of the established trees that accentuated the sprawling yard. He'd studied the map and knew how to get back to where he'd parked the car, but he ended up jogging around that block three times. There was something about the old home that called to him. He glanced at the address and decided to have Danielle Grant, his Chief of Acquisitions, come check it out with him. Justin pulled out his phone and activated the voice notes. He rattled off the address and spit out the questions that popped into his mind as he circled the home. The manor had potential... bed and breakfast, higher-end clientele. Was there a market for such a thing? Did the manse have enough rooms? Was it updated? If it wasn't, what would it take to bring it up to speed? The location was close enough to Elizabeth Quay to be attractive to those who wanted the privacy that a hotel could not give.

Justin slowed his pace as he approached the late model Mercedes he’d rented. Walking to calm his breathing after the jaunty five-mile run, he smiled at the thrill of watching the specialist work. She was damn good. Her equipment? Not so much. That could mean she was a freelancer, or it could mean the company that sent her wasn’t as concerned about their people as Guardian. Justin threw his gear bag into the back seat of the car and leaned against the vehicle, stretching his calves and hamstrings. He had a busy day ahead. Working without sleep wasn’t new, and he could deal with the long hours. Working with leg cramps? That was a different story, and it wasn’t going to happen. He took his time and stretched out, making sure to cool down before he grabbed a liter of bottled water out of the front seat. A marked police vehicle rolled at a brisk 5 mph through the parking lot adjacent to a small park where he'd left his car. Justin turned and reclined against his door as he took a long drink of water.

The driver window slid down. “What are you doing out here so late?”

Justin lowered the water bottle and smiled at the officer. “Well, it may be late for you, but my jet lag is telling me it’s the middle of the afternoon. I’m sorry if I’m in the wrong area, but when we arrived yesterday, this looked like a safe place to jog.”

“Ah, an American?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, we don’t have many people out and about at three in the morning. Just checking to make sure you’re not up to any evil.”

Justin laughed, “No sir, just trying to exhaust myself. I’m going to finish my water, drive back to the hotel, and try to get some sleep before my meeting in…” Justin glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Damn, five hours.”

"What's your name?"

"Justin King. Would you like to see my passport?"

"Please." The officer got out of his vehicle and watched as Justin leaned in, opened the glove box of the rental vehicle and pulled out his wallet and passport. He handed the dark leather holder over to the officer. The man looked at the cover of the passport and flipped it open. "Here on business or pleasure, Mr. King?"

"Business mostly, but I hope to enjoy a day of fun if I can squeeze it in."

"That so?"

"Yes sir, I'd love to abseil down Gordon Dam."

"That's one hell of a drop."

"The largest man-made, commercial, vertical descent on record." Justin couldn't wait to wrap up his work, take a short flight to Tasmania and rappel down that four-hundred-twenty-feet concrete surface. It would be a major rush. At least that was his plan until tonight's mission crumbled.

"Where are you staying, sir?" The police officer's question brought him out of his musings.

“COMO, The Treasury, on Cathedral Avenue.”

“Well now, those are nice digs. What business did you say you are in, Mr. King?"

I didn't. “I recently purchased a building overlooking the Quay, and I'm here to hire some local contractors to help me convert the structure." He had started to tire of the third degree but kept his cool, his professional veneer wrapped tightly around his internal musings.

The police officer took one more glance at his passport and handed it back to him. "Enjoy your stay, but at this time of night, stick to running on the treadmill in the hotel's spa, right?”

“I'll take that into consideration. Thank you, sir.” Justin took another long drink of water, capped the bottle and stretched his lower back. The taillights of the cruiser signaled a left turn. Watching them disappear around the corner Justin bent at his hips and touched his palms to the ground. He was getting too old not to stretch out after exercising. He chuckled at his normal exercise regime. If his brothers ever got wind of what he did to keep in shape for his night time job? Hell, he’d never live it down.

He glanced at his watch and calculated the time difference between Perth and Washington D.C. before he got into the car and pulled his cell phone out of the glove compartment where he'd stowed it when he’d finished his run. He’d wait until he got back to his hotel room before he made the call. It was lunch hour in D.C., and he’d be damned if he’d be the reason his brother missed a meal. According to a conversation he'd recently shared with his mother, Jason tried to go home for lunch with his wife at least three times a week. His brother worked like a fiend, but he was devoted to his wife and son.

Justin flipped his phone in his hands. Gabriel might be free, but he doubted it. For a retired man, Gabriel kept his fingers in just about everything going on at Guardian. No, this phone call could wait until he got back to the hotel, or even later.

Making sure to fasten his seatbelt, Justin started the car and pulled out, heading toward Elizabeth Quay. His mind returned to the mission he was supposed to have conducted tonight. Guardian would know soon enough if the specialist who copied the hard drive was friend or foe. Justin had a few more days in Perth before he had to get back to the insanity of his world. If Guardian wanted him to take another shot at it, he could send one of the entourage currently traveling with him to convey his desires to the construction, design and engineering teams. More than likely, his representative would be Danielle. Dani had made herself indispensable. Among other things, she was his right hand in all acquisition matters. Her sharp mind and intuition were only a couple of her assets he coveted. The woman was his cornerstone in his day-to-day business, and he trusted her—a statement he didn’t make lightly. He trusted only a handful of people.

Justin drove the nearly deserted streets and relaxed. Until Guardian told him otherwise, he was personally overseeing the restaurant design in the newly acquired building overlooking Elizabeth Quay. The location was prime for development. The construction company that had started the venture had encountered a financial backing issue. His acquisitions team had been looking for a suitable property in Australia, in either Sydney or Perth, for months. When Danielle’s team discovered the opportunity, Justin swooped in, bailed the company out, and his business machine started planning his fifteenth restaurant. He wanted to showcase Australian wines and cuisine while adding a distinct European flair. The chef he wanted was currently working in London, but he was a native Australian. Justin conceded to himself that he might be heading to London next if the phone calls and video conferencing couldn’t entice Chef Melvin Williams to agree to his very generous terms.

Justin glanced at the rear-view mirror, his gaze flicking over his appearance. The smile on his face wasn’t a surprise. He'd enjoyed tonight. For him, everything revolved around the next thrill. He and his therapist continued to work on that. He laughed out loud. Hell, he was an addict to the feeling of the pound of adrenaline when the anticipation of intense danger spiked, or when he’d mastered something like speeding around a high banked track in a car, going insane speeds…whatever it took to get his blood screaming through his veins, he wanted it. Fuck, he needed it. The thrill of near destruction obsessed him. His therapist had called it a “specter of insanity” after he’d described bungee jumping off the Bloukrans Bridge in South Africa. Two-hundred- sixteen-meters of free falling adrenaline rushing through his body. The first fall was amazing, but the moments that fascinated Justin were the ones when the bungee recoiled, pulling him back up and then suspended him, weightless, unfettered, before he dropped again. That perfect sensation of risking everything, and knowing you’d won, was better than any drug on the planet.

He pulled into the valet station at the hotel and hopped out of his car, tossing the keys to the young woman who ran out from the glass enclosure. She was the same one who’d retrieved his car hours earlier.

“Good morning, Mr. King. Will you need it again this morning?”

“No, I have a car service for later. You can put it away for the day.” He handed her a tip large enough to make her do a double take. Justin winked and smiled. He made it inside and up to his room in minimal time, with good reason—nobody else was awake. The hotel keycard flicked across the sensor and unlocked the door to his suite. He pulled off his t-shirt and toed off his shoes before he grabbed his computer and flopped down on the sofa. He powered up the computer and logged into his work email letting the inbox populate.

He grabbed his phone and hit the favorites, calling his brother’s number.

“Good Afternoon, Mr. King. Please stand by while we locate your brother.” The female voice at the switchboard never changed.

He didn’t bother to respond; the woman was gone before he assigned meaning to her words. The efficiency of Guardian baffled him. It had to be the military background of the employees. Lord knew his own organization was extremely effective, but the precision Guardian had obtained was eerie. Justin had never been in the military and had no desire to duplicate his brothers’ career choices.

He and Jared were the only two of the five brothers who chose other paths. Of course, only Jason knew about his ‘other’ job, so he got a load of crap from his big, bad, Alpha snake-eater type brothers. If they only knew. He sighed. It was yet another reason he tended to avoid any family get-togethers. He'd made a pointed effort to avoid being around his family for so long declining invitations was the norm now.

“Justin, how are things?” Jason’s gravelly voice pulled him out of his musings.

“Not so good. I’m afraid I’m under the weather.” The code phrase he’d never uttered before brought silence from Jason’s end of the connection.

“Really? Do you need a doctor?”

In other words, were you made? “Nah, I think I caught something from someone else. Which is strange because I can guarantee you I don’t think anyone else wants to catch this crud.” Justin cleared his throat. He didn’t like the taste of telling his brother someone had beat him to the target.

“Someone else got sick first?”

“Yeah, some woman.” Justin picked at the hem of his athletic shorts.

“Ha. Sucks to be you. Do you have meetings all day?”

“Yeah, no rest for the wicked.”

“You’re not wicked, just slightly weird, but we love you anyway. You should get some rest. I’m sure you’ll be fine. A bug like this isn’t easy to figure out, but give it some time. I’m sure between the two of us we can figure out a remedy.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be down here for a couple more days, and then depending on several factors, I’ll either be flying to London or heading back to New York."

There was a long pause on the line before Jason asked... because he always asked, "How are you, besides the cold?" Justin couldn't miss the concern. It was always there.

"Fine." It was his standard answer. He was successful and damn good at the night job. What else was there? Justin pushed away his brother's concern, hell, his family’s concern. He pushed away everyone, well almost. It was a gift or a curse.

"It's been a long time since we've seen you." Of all his siblings he was closest to Jason and maybe Jade, but one never knew with that one. She was...unique.

"You know how it goes. Life is busy."

"Bullshit. You know I worry about you. I know about addictions. Mine were chemical, yours are, hell, they're batshit crazy, but you've pushed us all away. You take risks that I'd never let any of my people take. If we didn't need your skill set, I'd fire you."

"You can't fire me. Gabriel hired me, and my agreement is with him." They'd had this conversation before. Same song different verse.

"Do you have anyone? A friend, someone constant in your life?"

Justin stared off into space at his brother's question. Yes, he had Danielle. She was his constant, but he couldn't walk down that path because if he did, he'd end up driving her away, too. It was inevitable. He was a self-labeled thrill seeker more interested in the next adrenaline spike than a relationship. He couldn't give the women he dated what they wanted because, simply stated, he didn't want the same thing. A wife and two point five kids would suffocate him.

"Justin?"

"What? Oh, right. I'm good. No need to worry about me." He knew his words sounded as fake as they were. The problem was, he didn't really care. He kept his family out of his life and out of his business except for the most necessary of occasions. It had been different, to a degree, before his dad's murder, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. He didn't fit in with his brothers growing up. His interests were vastly different than theirs. Hell, it seemed like the person he was then and the one he was now were totally different entities. The only similarities were the scars they carried.

“You know I'll always worry about you. I hope you feel better. Give me a call before you go to your meetings and let me know how you’re doing.”

“Can do. Take care.” Justin glanced at his tablet and accessed his appointment calendar to set the alarm to activate and remind him to call Jason. Knowing himself, he didn’t doubt he’d fall headfirst into work and forget to call his brother. He’d forgotten to do so many times.

“Don’t forget to set a reminder. Talk with you soon.” Jason's last-second dig about setting a reminder was nothing new.

Justin threw the disconnected device to the end of the couch. He glanced at over one hundred new emails since he’d last logged off. His executive assistant, Max, would go through the inbox when he woke up this morning and handle most of them, flagging only those that he needed to read. Max kept him from drowning in an ocean of emails. Justin scrolled through the notifications stopping when he noticed Danielle’s name. She’d sent him an email last night about an hour before he left for the target’s location. He popped it open and nodded at the content. The facts and figures, spreadsheets and breakdowns, were exactly what he needed to redirect his attention from last night’s assignment. But first...he slid the laptop onto the sofa table and headed for a shower. Justin changed direction a second before he hit the bathroom door. Coffee…he needed coffee and gallons of it. He pulled out the room service menu and ordered coffee to be sent up ASAP and two breakfasts to be delivered at seven. He and Danielle had a standing breakfast meeting. The amount of work that could be done over the morning meal never ceased to amaze him. It didn't hurt that he genuinely enjoyed Danielle’s company. Probably more than he should. Whatever, it was just business with them. He’d kept it that way. Unfortunately. Justin shook the thoughts out of his head and scratched his chest. He wrinkled his nose at his own stench. Yep, time to head to the bathroom for a quick shower.