The Barrington Job

Emmanuel wiped a white-gloved finger over a tabletop, held up a still pristine finger, and failed to keep a grin off his face.

Charity chuckled. “Oh, no doubting our host’s estate can pass a white-glove inspection. It’s dirty in different ways. Worse ways.” Her eyes turned serious. “This city is a heinous pesthole.”

“Indeed. Which begs the question, why are you here?”

Because four years ago the Castro Brothers sold weapons to a gang of boys halfway around the world. Weapons which directly led to those boys dying in a bloody massacre. I’m here to avenge their deaths. And maybe... hopefully, assuage my guilt.

“Sometimes you have to follow the money,” Charity lied with practiced ease. “I had a lead for the family foundation I simply couldn’t pass up. So, here I am.”


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