Chapter 1
I huddled on the bench outside the restaurant, pulling the holey trench coat tighter against my chest to combat the fifty-degree wind seeping into my filthy clothes. My ratted-up hair and dirty face made me unnoticeable to passing pedestrians. I looked homeless to an untrained eye. My gun lay nestled inside a broken cardboard box on my lap, my finger on the trigger.
The client’s brother, Richie Stewart, sat within easy view, near one of the restaurant windows. Intel suggested he was trying to hire a hit to take his brother out before the wedding. His feeble attempt to gain an empire and his brother’s girl at the same time. Greed would be his downfall.
“Hold your position, Bennett,” Donaldson’s voice filled her earpiece. His presence hidden from sight. He was the head of security for my client and a thorn in my side. He’d wanted to handle my client’s safety one way while I’d planned on another. Feelings always got hurt every time someone bigger than me thought they knew the right way to deal with the threats. This time was no different.
Richie Stewart slid a bulging manila envelope across the table to the hit man he was trying to hire.
“The package was delivered,” I whispered into the microphone taped inside the jacket. “It’s now or never.”
“Don’t move, Bennett. Wait until he’s clear of civilians.”
I didn’t listen. I never did. Standing, I placed my cardboard box on top of the old blankets inside the grocery cart and started pushing it across the street to where the hit man’s driver waited in an SUV in the alleyway next to the restaurant’s kitchen entrance.
“Bennett,” Donaldson growled.
I wasn’t going to let the target get away. If I did, my client would be dead.
“Relax, Donaldson; I’ve got this.” I pulled out my gun and hid it beneath the trench coat as I approached the SUV. I picked up the plastic jug that had a few quarters inside. The sign taped on the outside said, Will work for food. It was a nice last-minute touch.
I tapped on the driver’s side window and held up my jar.
The driver shook his head without another look.
I tapped again and knew my persistence would eventually pay off. I could be annoying like that.
The driver lowered his window. Big mistake.
“Beat it.”
“Please,” I begged as I tightened my hold on the gun.
“I said beat it, lady.”
As he turned to look away, I slammed the butt of my gun into the side of the driver’s head.
He slumped forward and was out like I would be after a night bingeing on ice cream and a season of my favorite TV show.
“They’ve completed the exchange,” Donaldson said happily into my ear. It was sad that the schmuck who’d ordered the hit would probably be out of jail in less time than it had taken for me to figure out what was going on. Being filthy rich had a way of making people turn a blind eye.
I opened the SUV’s door and yanked the driver from the seat, easing him onto the ground just as the restaurant door flew open. After crossing the street, the contract killer hopped inside the SUV.
I pointed my gun at him and grinned. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I can pay.”
“Sorry. I’ve already got a job,” I said, smirking. I pulled off the ratted wig and tossed it into the guy’s lap. His fingers flexed, and I cocked my trigger. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
He slowly lifted his hands as other security agents surrounded the car and yanked him out, cuffing him on the spot.
Donaldson pulled Richie out of the restaurant in cuffs.
He was screaming, with spit flying from his mouth. “He doesn’t deserve her. He stole her from me.”
“We have the hit exchange on tape. You won’t be ruining their wedding. I’ve made sure of it.” I smiled in the most annoying way possible, a cheesy grin that bordered on giving him the middle finger without so much as lifting my hand.
“You’re a dead woman,” Richie growled.
