Page 9 of Himbo Hitman
“Good.” Then she turns and throws my very thoughtful gift into the dumpster behind her. “We don’t give them DNA, we don’t give them shitty aliases, and we definitelydo notgo into businesses that have CCTV footage.Come on.”
Damn it. I didn’t think about the cameras. “Noted.”
“We also won’t be here for long if we’re doing our job right. So no need for heavy backpacks or snacks, and dear fucking god, if you’re playing cards on a hit, you’re just asking to die.”
“I wanted to make tonight memorable.”
The look she levels me with almost makes me step back a notch. “Have you ever killed someone before?”
“Not … directly?”
“Indirectly, then?”
“Well, who can say? I littered once—what if the paper blew up onto a windshield and caused a five-car pileup?”
Arlie doesn’t look convinced. “Tonight will be memorable. Trust me.”
“I’m just glad we get to spend this one-on-one time together.”
“Still not friends.”
“We’ll see.”
“Up the fire escape. We’re cutting it close.”
I glance overhead, not thrilled about how tall the building is. “How high are we going?”
“All the way to the top.”
Of course we are. My apprehension is cutting as I climb the stairs, reminding myself not to look down. I’m not scared of heights, specifically, but heights have never exactly done much for me either. The higher we go, the more I’m reminded of that.
“And the rooftop is obviously necessary,” I check.
“Yep.”
I’m hit by a thought that immediately spills from my mouth. “You’re not planning to push me off, are you?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I know too much. Holy shit. Was itmyname on the paper? Is that why Luther was suddenly okay with me coming?”
“Do us both a favor and don’t think for a while.”
“That wasn’t a no!”
I swear Arlie laughs, which can’t be right because she never laughs. It must have been someone from inside one of the apartments we pass. Someone who sounds a lot like her.
I’m out onto the rooftop first, and I consider for a whole second whether to run or stop her from coming up here or … fuck, I have no clue. But maybe doing something to protect myself wouldn’t be a totally ridiculous thing? Unfortunately, I am ridiculous and apparently have no survival skills because I’ve barely started debating with myself when she joins me.
“Fuck it. Get it over with,” I say, holding my hands out to the side. “Would it be easier if I jumped?”
“Actually, yes.”
I’m about to make my pathetic way over to the edge when she continues.
“Then I wouldn’t have to listen to you being all dramatic anymore.” She unzips the bag at her waist and pulls out a gun. The metal gleams threateningly, and it’s only just now occurring to me that I’ve never seen one of these in real life before. I’m suddenly not so sure I ever wanted to. “Relax, we’re not here for you.” The next thing she pulls out is a long metal cylinder that she attaches to the gun. She must notice me watching curiously. “It’s a suppressor. This one is a single shot. Bullet cases will land right here, and we’ll walk a few blocks before we ditch them in the trash.”
“Won’t they be found?”
