1 Chapter 1

“What a lovely day,” Caiden grumbled, looking out at the rain-slicked streets. “Why the hell does it wait until the weekend to do this?”

He stretched, not caring that the people in the apartment across the street—if they were watching—could see more of him than they probably wanted to. It wasn’t his dismal apartment, and in another hour, with luck, he’d be gone.

Stepping away from the window, he glanced at the open closet door and tried to decide if jeans or slacks would be the proper clothing for his meeting. Deciding jeans would do, he snagged a pair off a hanger, pulled them on, then took a T-shirt from the dresser drawer, topping it with a blue button-down shirt. Checking the mirror, he smiled dryly. Perfectly dressed for the part. Thank God I don’t look like this in real life.

This was a slightly paunchy man, approximately thirty-five, give or take, with the beginnings of a receding hairline. Not the slender man, with well-defined muscles Caiden was in real life.

After stepping into the loafers sitting by the dresser, and putting his wallet and a set of keys in his pockets, he left the bedroom, closed the door, and went into the kitchen to make coffee. It had just finished brewing when there was a coded knock on the apartment door. He checked through to peephole. It was who he expected, so he opened the door. A burly bodyguard stood behind the man. “He stays outside,” Caiden said.

“After he checks out the place,” the man replied. With a nod, Caiden let them in, smiling to himself as the bodyguard went into the bedroom and bathroom, opening closet doors and pulling back the shower curtain.

The man Caiden was interested in looked around the living room with a jaundiced eye while his bodyguard was exploring. “About what I would have expected for our meeting,” he said, setting a messenger bag down on the table next to the kitchen.

“All clear,” the bodyguard told his boss before exiting the apartment.

“You have the cash?” the man asked.

Caiden nodded, then crossed to the desk. He took the keys from his pocket, chose the right one, and unlocked the top drawer. After he removed a metal container about the size of a large shoebox, he pressed several keys on the pad on one side. “Before you get the money, I need to see that you brought the item.”

With a nod, the man slid the contents of the messenger bag onto the table and stepped aside. Caiden went over and carefully took off the wrapping. “Beautiful,” he murmured, holding up a framed Rembrandt etching. “My employer will be happy to have this back.”

“Let me see the money,” the man replied. “Then—” he shot Caiden a hard look, “—you can take it to him.”

Caiden handed him the container. “It’s unlocked.”

Greedily, the man flipped it open. Seconds later he was gasping, trying to catch his breath. Within moments he was convulsing as his body hit the floor. By then, Caiden was by the open window, inhaling fresh air while letting the cool, rainy breeze in.

“The next time you decide to kill a few innocent bystanders to get what you want…” Caiden looked down at the body. “Well, I guess there won’t be a next time.”

Despite the fact the gas shouldn’t affect him, Caiden covered his nose and mouth with a rain-soaked handkerchief. Then he went to the fallen container and closed it. With that done, he studied the man. It took a few minutes, and intense concentration, but in the end, Caiden was an exact replica of his victim.

He put the etching back into the messenger bag, then dragged the body into the bedroom, shoving it under the bed. After checking to be certain he wasn’t forgetting anything, he picked up the messenger bag and opened the apartment door.

“All finished?” the bodyguard asked.

“Yes,” Caiden replied, his voice mimicking perfectly that of the man he’d killed. “Wait here, to make sure he doesn’t try to follow me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Caiden casually strolled down to the elevator. Five minutes later he was in his car, on his way to back to the see the person who had sent him on this mission.

* * * *

“Excellent,” Zander said, running his hand through his longish, blond hair as he examined the etching. “Our client will be happy to have it back in his possession.” He looked up at Caiden. “The thief has been taken care of?”

Caiden nodded, almost too exhausted to speak. Shifting from himself to the man who, supposedly, was buying the stolen etching, then into the now dead seller, and finally back to himself, had taken a lot out of him. Usually, when that many shifts occurred in a short period of time, he had a chance to rest and rejuvenate. But he knew Zander was anxious to get the etching back to its owner, so he had come straight over from the apartment.