Page 111 of Brian and Mina's Holiday Hits
“You haven’t even gotten to the best part.” He nods to the box. “Open it.”
“Is it Snow White’s heart?”
“Just open it.”
I untie the ribbon and carefully open the box. I gasp as I take in the exquisite knife resting inside black velvet. It’s obviously handcrafted—the kind of knife that lasts a lifetime. It has a red ivory handle with what looks like a fierce warrior goddess carved into it. An intricate flame design runs the length of the blade, and at the base of the steel are the words: “Brian and Mina” inside a heart.
“Do you like it?” He produces the sheath and holster for it from inside his jacket.
“It’s gorgeous.” I lift the knife out of the box turning it over. “And the weight is fucking perfect.” I start to put it back, but Brian’s hand closes over mine.
“Bring it. For luck.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck.” But I trade it out for one of my knives from Gremlin.
“How are we going to get it back home. Ship it?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, we can travel with it. I highly doubt anybody will think it’s a murder weapon. It obviously came came from an artisan. And it’s one knife, not an arsenal.”
It’s nine o’clock when we slip in the back entrance and take out the small group of staff. Quick quiet shots with silencers. I hate taking out staff. They’re innocent but we can’t have any heroes. Or witnesses. In an ideal situation, the target is the onlyone you kill. It’s nice, clean. Surgical precision. But outside of movies, it rarely works out like this.
Whatever powers took away my feelings, I wish they’d done just a slightly better job.
Nine is a bit late for a Valentine’s Day dinner, but they arranged the time so Clarissa could more easily get away from her people without detection.
“That’s everybody,” Brian whispers.
We drop our magazines and reload. Just the two lovebirds now. The food has already been delivered, and I smell the delicious scent of chicken primavera and garlic bread. I can’t tell if the smells are just the leftover smells from the kitchen or if it’s coming from the entryway where everything is set up.
“What the fuck?” Brian whispers.
“What?” I whisper back as we move together down the hallway toward our targets.
“That music.”
“I still don’t know what you’re asking.” Classical music drifts down the hall to our ears.
“That islivemusic, Mina. Not a recording. How did I miss that he hired a string quartet?”
Shit. More innocents.
“Brian, no,” I say.
“We have to.”
The quartet starts to play what I recognize as Shostakovich, but I have no idea the name of the song. They're all numbers and letters. I don’t know why composers couldn’t bother to give their music real names people could remember.
We get within view, and I see Clarissa and Cole at the table. The roses Brian bought are in the center of the table over a white linen tablecloth with drippy candles in crystal holders. There’s a fire in the fireplace, and then the string quartet set up nearby.
“We’re going to go in quick. I’ll take out the two in the back, you take out the two in the front.”
“Brian…”
“Don’t think, Mina, just do it. We’re already too deep in for this.”
“No, wait. If we shoot the quartet first... Cole might be armed. They’re probably both armed. We need guns on Cole and Clarissa first.”
Brian sighs. “You’re probably right. But we don’t leave loose ends. Agreed?”
