Page 2 of Shadow

She was also probably going to watch Martha Lintz die in about three minutes if Asher’s instincts were right.

And his instincts were screaming.

Diane at the coffee cart handed a regular his usual. Steam rose from the ancient machine.

Asher spotted him: Gray suit. Leather messenger bag. Wire-rimmed glasses that suggested harmless professional.

Carlo.

Asher’s chest tightened.

The assassin moved through the morning crowd with the particular calm of a man who knew exactly where he needed to be and exactly what he needed to do when he got there.

No. No, no, no.

Carlo was syndicate wet team. Rome-trained. Clinical. Efficient. At least two confirmed kills that Asher knew about, probably a dozen more he didn’t. And the man was positioning himself near the hallway to Courtroom 3B with the patience of someone who’d done this before.

Yep, Martha had a bounty on her head. And the hit would go down here. Now. In a courthouse on a Tuesday morning, while Hank scrolled through fantasy football scores and Diane frothed milk for someone’s overpriced latte.

And the syndicate hadn’t told him.

The implications raced through his mind. The syndicate always warned him when operations were happening. That was the whole point of having a corrupt FBI agent on payroll—inside information, advance notice, convenient blind eyes.

But Carlo showing up unannounced while Dmitri watched meant they were testing Asher. Wanted to see what their bought-and-paid-for federal agent would do when a witness died right in front of him and he wasn’t part of the plan.

His throat closed.

If he tried to stop it, he’d blow eighteen months of cover. Of compromise. Of playing the long game. His entire operation destroyed. And he’d probably have a bullet in his own head before the week was out.

If he did nothing, Martha Lintz died.

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it. Patterson. His handler. The man who’d sent him into this nightmare eighteen months ago with a firm handshake and a promise it would all be worth it.

Patterson

Maintain position at courthouse. Observe only.

Observe. Right.

Stand there. Watch. Take notes. File a report.

Let Martha Lintz die so he could keep playing double agent.

Asher shoved the phone back and moved toward the bathroom. Casual. Unhurried. Just another guy who’d had too much coffee. Dmitri’s flat gaze followed him.

The men’s room door swung shut. Empty. Thank heaven.

Asher pulled out his phone and dialed courthouse security.

“Renegade Courthouse Security, this is Hank.”

Of course it was Hank.

Asher deepened his voice, let the bathroom acoustics do the rest. “There’s a man with a gun near Courtroom 3B. Gray suit. Messenger bag. Glasses.”

“Sir, I need you to identify⁠—”

He hung up. Anonymous tip filed. Security would respond. Carlo would see them coming and abort. Martha would live. The syndicate would never know Asher had interfered.