ANDREW JACOBS

Andrew Jacobs is the man your nightmares hire when they want to outsource the violence. He arrives in expensive suits, orders top-shelf whiskey, smiles like your new best friend, and leaves bodies in his wake with the casual indifference of a man stepping over a puddle. He doesn't get angry. He doesn't get rattled. He gets cold, calculating, and methodical—a machine built for one purpose.

Former associates describe a man who once had dinner with a business partner, laughed at his jokes, toasted his family, asked about his children—then walked him to the parking lot and opened his throat with a straight razor. He carries a custom .45 in a shoulder holster, left side, and always—always—has a backup piece on his right ankle. He doesn't trust anyone. He doesn't forgive anything. And he never, ever forgets a slight.