Thankfully, he’d already taken care of his stuff.All he had to do was get Sydney settled, and they could be off.
“Should I bring this?”she asked, holding up a clawed hammer.
He furrowed his brow.“No.Why?”
Examining it, she shrugged.“Haven’t a clue.”
He chuckled, unable to stop himself as he shook his head.“Light.Pack only what you require to get by.We have to be in and out.”
She hummed and nodded.Without a word, she exited the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”he asked, leaning over the bed.“Everything you need is here.”
“Should we bring tools?”she called from some other area.
“I have all that,” he explained with a sigh.
The back of his F-150 had a massive toolbox filled with a ton of goodies.Anyone walking by it wouldn’t even notice the locked container.People assumed him a contractor of some sort.Which wasn’t entirely wrong.
Holding a small, clear plastic zipper bag filled to the brim, Sydney returned to the room.
“What is that?”He gestured to the item she tucked into her backpack.
“My makeup.”
“You’re not going to use it.”Did not she understand what they were doing?It wasn’t a lover’s weekend getaway.They were hired to kill someone.This was business, not pleasure.
Wait.
Maybe it was a pleasure for them.
Either way, she had too much crap packed.She wouldn’t use half of it.They weren’t going dancing or to see shows or anything.
Frowning, she gave him the side-eye.“So, only you get to paint yourself up like a psycho clown?”
Well, he wasn’t expecting that comment.
“Psycho?”He placed a hand over his chest in exaggerated faux offense.
She stared at him blankly.
She wasn’t buying his over-the-top theatrical display.
“I saw what was in that box.”She planted her hands on her hips.“If you get to gussy up, I should too.”
She had a point, but that didn’t matter.This stage of the game was too early for her to be worried about any of this stuff.She just started.There would be plenty of opportunities for her to develop her style and flair.Now wasn’t the time.
Though he agreed she should keep her identity hidden, her makeup wouldn’t do it.The stuff she had would enhance her looks—make her more noticeable.Nothing in her collection would hide her face.
“I have a signature.It’s expected of me,” he explained.
There.That should put that to bed.
She clucked her tongue and pulled out the cheap red wig with the long ponytails she’d worn the night they met.“Maybe I do too.”
“Fine.”Low on his agenda was to keep arguing with her.Rolling over on the bed, he lay on his back and pulled the burner phone from his pocket to check the time.“We have to leave in five minutes.”
“I’m almost done,” she said as she stuffed the wig haphazardly into the bag.
