"Marlow, I want another ballistic test done! She didn't touch that gun for her fingerprints to be found all over it as if someone planted them!" I snap urgently while slamming the door behind me.

"Kid, it's a very simple courtesy to ask how I'm doing first. When was the last time we met, huh?" Marlow begins his sarcasm and I'm so not in the mood for this.

How the heck did he even get inside my apartment? I'm freaky certain that I locked the door. But he's Marlow, a street rat who's born and raised in the den of thieves and gamblers right in the streets of Odessa. No surprise here.

"Anyways." He tugs his steel hip flask toward his mouth. He chugs on a few sips of his whiskey and clears his throat. "You and I have to talk, kid. Precisely about Mia Kingston." His snarky eyes reconnect with mine as he fastens the lid.

And here we go again. I know what's popping in his head and I don't need to be lectured.

"What about her?" I fold my arms on the chest.

He reclines back in my plush, patiently studying me like a hunter to a prey. With his expensive Armani suit right now, and that floppy hat on his long haired head, one may easily be swayed by his ritzy disguise. I smirk.

This sneaky bastard can be anything he wants to be—that I salute. But deeply he's just a southern boy with plenty of tattoos on his arms and back, a leather jacket and bike to race through the scorching heat of Texas.

"Kid, that woman is just one of your targets so don't be wasted by emotions!" he splutters dryly. "She's the wife of Patrick Kingston! She's a married woman, dammit! What is it that you're doing now? You think I bought the crap that you're simply trying to help her as your boss? Have you lost focus of what really matters? Have you forgotten the damn reason why you're in Portland right now?"

My eyes rotate as I try to hold my trembling breath. Scorching than the afternoon sun, I feel my anger searing through me like a wildfire. I mop a hand on my face before leaning over the coffee table so my eyes are direct on his.

"A wife you say? That fucking bastard doesn't deserve her!" I grit my teeth. "He's been doing nothing but hurting her even today as we're speaking, Marlow! He's the fucking reason she's locked up right now!"

Fuck! I knew he was a cheating rat since the day one I physically met him. Yes, it was all a set up that I had to save his ass just to have him hire me to guard him around. It was just a plan so we can have access to his house and company.

But on the very same day I found him with a woman at the bar. Like a fool I almost believed she was Mia Kingston, but their features were different. And when she left him a key card to her hotel room, I realized she was a mistress.

The same mistress who happened to be the best friend of his wife! Fucker!

When I met Mia, I wondered if she knew what was happening behind her back. She looked ferocious, smart, and as hard as a coconut, but deep down she's nothing but a pretty softie who loves and trusts blindly. Her bestie screwed her.

"Even so!" Marlow bolts up like a Russian missile. "I chose you for this mission because I was confident you wouldn't let me down because of a pair of fine boobs and a round ass, kid! I know you better and women have never been your weakness! But this guy I'm seeing here, I don't think I know him!" he thunders.

I boom into an angry laugh. "An end justifies the means. Didn't you tell me that?" I ask him. "Who made me play baby daddy with her in the first place, huh? It was your fucking idea so don't ask me why I'm trying to save her from those unscrupulous people surrounding her! You made it my job to protect her and I'm not gonna do it to the fullest, Marlow!"

Because it has become my business! Especially now that she's having our baby. They are both my responsibility now and there's nothing I won't do to keep them safe.

Marlow lets out a frustrated groan. "Yes, it's my fault! I shouldn't have let you play the role of a loving husband with her in that damn tavern! I should have known that even a brave warrior can be a weakling in the arms of a pretty maiden. But does she know that the whole car breakdown shit was just a stunt so we could have a little tryst before you took her to Astoria? Does she have any idea that you got closer to her for your own reasons that have nothing to do with the damn feelings you're showing right now? Does she, kid?"

My breath hitches and my jaw ticks. No, she's going to lose her mind if I tell her some facts. If she knows that this Marlow here is the same man who pretended to be the tavern owner in that sleazy hotel she'll kill us both.

"See?" Marlow smirks. He then heaves a long breath of speechlessness before saying, "Kid, we're almost there. Don't ruin this over a woman, huh? She's damn pretty, I know, who wouldn't want her? But we have bigger fish to catch. It's a matter of National security that we find the X-File as soon as possible! Now snap out of it and let's get this job done!"

"She's the damn key to this operation, Marlow, can't you understand?" I yell. Running a hand through my messy hair, I simply add, "I have to get her out of that place before they send her to prison! And you're going to help me if you want this mission to proceed as planned. She knows where the file is and I need her for that matter!"

"Alright!" he snaps. His marred face frowns coldly as he sprints closer to me, a souvenir from the mishaps he'd gone through when he got captured by some drug cartel in Bogota. "But I'm not stupid, kid, to buy your crappy nonsense! I know what I'm seeing and I can't say I'm pleased."

And I'm not here to please anyone, cowboy!

"Whatever you say, Marlow. I told you to stay out of my business if you want this job done. I don't answer to you, nor to the damn FBI. I'm here because I wanted to be here, so let me do this shit as I see fit or else I'll blow this off and get back to Arkansas!" I return unflinchingly

I don't like city life anyway. Too noisy!

Marlow smiles piteously at me, shaking his head to the sides. "Do you think she'll thank you for saving her after learning who you really are? Do you believe she's going to forgive you if she finds out that you're a fucking undercover who finagled his way into her life just to destroy her husband?"

I find it difficult to respond, so my fingers curl up into tight fists to my sides.

"Wake up, Red! Focus!" He grips my shoulders tightly with a hard look. "She's going to destroy you, kid. I've been that foolish before, so I know what I'm talking about. Women can be more venomous than an inland taipan, as attractive as they may be."

Good grief! Not now, buddy! I sigh heavily, too exhausted to understand him.

"Don't worry about me, Marlow." I've got nothing to lose, as a matter of fact. "But if we want to get the King, we need the pawn. Now help me release Mia Kingston because we need her. And also, she didn't kill Anne and I can't let her pay for the crime she didn't commit."

Marlow studies me for a long time moment before remarking, "You're one scary asshole but very stupid too. I fucking hope you're being honest with me, or else you're gonna regret using your heart over your head, kid. I'm telling you as a friend. You can have as many women as you want, but not Mia Kingston, please."

I don't respond to that.

We both sit down over the two last beer cans left in my refrigerator. I fill him in about all the intel I've gathered regarding the case so far, including the last conversation I had with the guy who referred Cliff to that delivery job.

"As I told you earlier on the phone, it looks like someone did a cleaning job and planted those fingerprints on the gun that was found in Mia's car," I state confidently.

I know it's a cooked plan.

"Well . . . I've been hearing stories about a small syndicate called 'The Janitors'," Marlow says curtly. Frowning, I urge him to explain. "I got some info from my CIA source and apparently there are some cases with a similar pattern. Planted evidence. They're specialized in tempering with crime scenes and fabricating murder weapons, and they're now going beyond by faking and altering DNA on the victims and proprietors."

"What? Is that even possible?"

"Trust me, kid. In this rotten and dangerous world of crime and technology, a lot can be done with determined heads," he says simply.

As determined as I am to get to the bottom of this.

"Any information about them?" I ask

"Not enough. A few months back they got a pin on their leader, but he slipped away before the raid and rumors have it that he must have changed his identity by now, probably living off an alias."

"In that case I'll have to use my original plan to reach them," I state thoughtfully.

"What plan?"

I gaze at him. "Someone has to die today for this plan to work. And then I'll need to have them clean up the mess and throw the blame to someone else," I reply and take a longer sip of beer on my empty stomach.

Intrigued, Marlow remarks, "They catch the bait, and you'll fish them out. Smart! But how are you gonna make a contact if you don't know any of them?"

"I'm not gonna do it. You will," I answer and get up at the same time.

"What? Have you gone out of your mind, kid?"

"You have your underground hounds, Marlow. You'll manage. Just name their price, and I'll pay. I have to meet someone so close my door when you leave," I utter.

"Oh for crying out loud, Red! I have a lot to do right now. You made me fly all the way from Osaka and now you want me to—"

"It has to be tonight, Marlow. This shit needs to end tonight," I tell him sternly as I reach for the door handle. "You owe me one, remember? After this one, consider us even."

"Alright, fine! But stop ordering me around, you jerk!" He throws a pillow that bumps onto the wall. I snort. "And where are you going? Don't go around causing more trouble, you hear?" His voice fades as I exit and slam the door shut.

I now have to meet Kenna.

As I ride the lift down the lobby my head gets poked by the scattering news on media about Anne's murder since an hour ago. My heart shrinks in my chest. So many headlines talk about it as a jealousy stunt from an angry wife.

Stupid reporters!

Before igniting the jeep I grab my favorite handload. A Glock 17. An old birthday gift from grandpa, the only family left. Got some memories with it—good and bad—and I think it's time to put some bullets into better use.

I press the releaser and spill the magazine out, just to check if all 17 rounds are still intact. Yes, all good. Not a single bullet used yet. Reloading the ammo, I pull back the slide and hold it firm for a while, marveling at the head I'd want to brutally shoot at.

Patrick Kingston! Damn you!

I shut my eyes for a moment and breathe. I can't let this rag me more than it already does. No, I need to focus. I'll go on with the plan, even if it'll take the whole night to get those bastards. Back to safety, I stash the gun into my waist belt and quickly start the jeep.

Kenna calls me on the way. "I'm fucking mad that I almost punched the judge!" Her voice ricochets.

"What happened?" A frown deepens on my face.

"What else, Red? With that evidence against Mia, the dickhead refused the bail! She can't get out. They're transferring her to prison tomorrow!" she snaps abhorrently.

Again, I almost feel like I can't breathe. The image of her in that small cell in the precinct is already a hell to me. A pure torture that had me sleepless last night.

"I knew it was going to happen," I remark.

And her husband won't do anything about it, will he? That rotten bastard! I grip the steering tightly and speed up.

"What do we do, Red? I think I'm losing my mind," Kenna seethes. "And guess who's in Portland to see her daughter? It's Sophie Diaz."

"Sophie—What? Mia's mom?" I deadpan. "You mean she's here?"

"Yes! I'm just getting in my car to pick her up from the airport, because I had to lie that Mia got an emergency meeting so she can't talk to her. I swear I'm starting to lose my hair! And the worst part is, the situation at MK is chaotic with all the news flying around. I spoke to Leslie and she told me things are pretty bad."

"Goddamn it!" I say tightly in a low voice, taking the blows from every side. "Go ahead and pick her. We'll talk later. About the case . . ." I hit the brakes stoutly before I cross the red lights.

Fuck! I hurl forward from the impact.

"What? What about the case?" Kenna exhorts. I pant mildly. "What's wrong, Red? Are you okay?"

I suck in a breath and reply, "Yes, I'm good. Leave Mia's case to me. I'll call you if I need your help."