Her heart stopped at that brutal order that must have come through when they saw that someone had signed on to take the contract.
“What the hell?” The issuer had paid to have him killed in the most vicious way possible. They didn’t just want him dead. They wanted him tortured first and then brutally executed.
What had he done?
Why would anyone hate him that much?
While it wasn’t uncommon for someone to change a warrant once it was assigned, they were normally much subtler than this. More money. Bonus pay if you delivered something the issuer wanted.
But to sucker someone in for a minor retrieval warrant and then change it to brutal execution . . .
That was rarely done. Mostly because retrieving and executing were two different skill sets and those, like her, who retrieved didn’t normally want to kill.
She looked up at him as he dropped off two plates at a nearby table. Unlike his mannerisms, his clothes didn’t look regal. They were ragged. Worn-out. Even his shoes were scuffed from age.
He seemed so . . .
Normal.
Looks are deceiving.
She knew that better than anyone. It was something her sister used against many of her targets. Eve waltzed in looking like a seductive vamp, not the ruthless mercenary of legend, Eve of Destruction, then cut the heart out of those who thought her a harmless plaything.
Still . . .
In spite of his unbelievable height, her target appeared young. Not much older than her, if any. Too young for such a horrific sentence.
Your job isn’t to question.
That was what her sister would say. They were mercenaries.Do the job. Do it quick. Get paid.
No prey. No pay.
But she wasn’t Eve. She couldn’t compartmentalize brutality the same way her sister did.
Sure, she could take a life if someone tried to kill her. That was one thing.
To take a random life for payment . . .
She wasn’t that cold-blooded, and she didn’t want to be. Honestly, she had a hard time reconciling the loving sister she knew with the vicious killer Eve could be.
But she’d taken out the contract. Once accepted, it was hers.
Either kill or be killed.
If Jayne failed to carry it out, two more assassins would be assigned. One to kill him.
One to kill her.
What do I do?
Jayne had just switched her comm so that she could message her sister when a shadow fell over her screen. Ready to battle, she looked up to find her target in front of her.
“Having trouble with the menu?”
She shook her head. “Texting my sister.”
“Ah. I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you have any questions. I’d avoid the seafood. Beef . . . basically any meat. Unless you’re Andarion or Phrixian. Those bastards can eat anything.”
