he ride was uncomfortable; no doubt the van had left downtown and was now in one of Seattle’s less desirable parts. When it came to killing, Sabian was always one step ahead of the best. He knew the two goons in the front were taking himself and the motionless man on the floor in front of him to a secluded location for disposal. He also knew when the back doors of the van opened Steven Malton would be there. That’s just the kind of coward he was; have a couple thugs lay a beating on a man, then be the tough guy and pull the trigger. When Mr. Shang hired Sabian, he was very specific—Malton would be tough to track down. There was one thing in this world Sabian cared about above all else, his word. In all his years for hire, never once had he failed an employer—when he said a man was dead you could take it as gospel, and he had definitely never failed a friend. Not about to begin with Shang, he decided to handle it the easy way; get caught. The situation was perfect as far as Sabian was concerned. He wouldn’t have to worry much about clean up.

Just above his right eye ached from where he let the fat one smash him in the face with the flashlight. A dark smile came across Sabian’s pale features. It worked every time. Show them a little blood, and they think you’re hurt; made for a more believable scenario. But the knife wound in his hamstring pissed him off. If Sabian would have seen that coming, he’d have done something about it.

He looked at the kid on the floor; no more than twenty-two or so. The two goons had apparently been working him over for a while before the hit man showed up. He was on the floor and bloody as a slaughterhouse when Sabian kicked in the door of the back room at The Wild Rose. He had to admit, Malton’s use of a gay bar for underworld dealings was a great idea. The Seattle cops sure as hell weren’t interested in going to a known homosexual hangout if they didn’t have to.

A moan came from the floor, and the man stirred. Sabian could hear his breathing intensifying. He was coming to.

“Get up.” Sabian’s voice, definitely foreign, spoke barely above a whisper.

Rolling onto his side, the man clutched his stomach and coughed violently. A stream of bloody saliva dripped down his swollen face. “Oh, fuck!,” he gritted his teeth in pain, “They're gonna kill us!"



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