My bet was that Jason wasn’t going to handle this himself. Too dirty for his prissy little fingers. He was the bane of my grandfather’s existence. When Maria got her diagnosis, someone spilled the beans and Jason was there to try to replace her as mentee and get in on the cushier side of the top one percenters.

Why continue to be middle class when you can sit next to God himself?

Only that didn’t work. Augustus Vaughn hated Jason with a passion for being a lazy opportunist and called him far too many names. Jason then left with a chip on his shoulder and a vow to destroy the family line.

Which included me.

“I can’t hear shit.”

I slapped him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Like they can hear us.”

“At least lower your fucking voice.”

A small group formed near the entrance of the building. Like Reaper said, I couldn’t hear shit. Voices were obscured and my best bet was catching some lip reading with my view.

The men who arrived handed over their locked cases to the overly dressed guards and said what looked like for the boss. Too bad they didn’t just say Jason Haines to make my life easier. The smaller one took the first case inside—to check it I supposed.

Standing awkwardly, one smoking, until he came back out with a nod to take the other case back, we waited to see what it would turn into. The second case came back with the same nod of approval. The two suits nodded at each other before handing over a duffel bag to the trench coats to send them on their way.

“Looks like a regular business deal to me. I’m hungry.”

Bang!

“Mhm.”

The suits gunned down the trench coats. Hostile deal?

The only reason for gunning down a business deal is if you had the upper hand on another company and wanted to tip the first domino. Make them think you were coming in guns blazing. In reality, their plan had been set into motion a long time ago. Was the attacker Jason? Or was Jason the one being attacked?

If only we had the proper intel to know what the fuck was going on.

Feeling a step behind in every situation was getting really fucking tiring.

The driver stepped out and calmly walked over to the suits and shook each of their hands. There was no good view of him in that big ass jacket with the hood up and a hat obscuring most of his face. Casual body language told me this had been a large setup.

I hesitated to speak or look away from the view. “Think we can ID the two dead guys?”

“Can try. Unless they burn the bodies.”

“Why would they—”

He pointed to where they were drowning the dead in a liquid from a red canister. Well, fuck me sideways.