But I just smile because two can play this game. I keep driving past the exit. A quick peek in my rearview mirror, and sure enough, they pull right back onto I-35. This job is no joke; whoever this is has a fancy driver with evasive techniques. They are cautious,aware of their surroundings. In other words, this person is no doubt abig deal.
And I’m going to kill them.
Just as soon as I sort out the situation with my five-year-old.
“Siri, call Piper.” I move over and coast along in the center lane. Maybe my sister can pick Eliza up. Her phone rings and rings, until finally, voicemail answers. I hang up, and a text comes through a second later:In a meeting. You ok?
Of course, she’s busy.
“Siri, call Graham.” My hopes are now with my big brother, who has always liked coming to my rescue. As a result, I avoid asking him for help unless I absolutely need it. And today, I do. This is the job of a lifetime. My kid needing to poop isn’t going to get in the way of killing this guy.
It rings once before his voice fills the line. “Little sis!”
“Hi. What are you doing?”
A chuckle. “I’m working. Why?”
I check my side mirrors. The town car is coming up in the right lane, speeding just fast enough to pass me in a couple moments. We’re only a few miles from Austin, where I’ll have to be more careful to not be spotted.
“I don’t suppose you could pick Eliza up from school?”
A pause. “She okay? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just—” I turn my blinker on, merge into the right lane. “I’m working, and the school nurse told me she has a stomachache.”
“She called you for astomachache?”
“Don’t get me started.” As a fellow parent, he gets it.
“Sure. I’ll go get Eliza Bug. I’ll ask if her stomach hurts too bad for ice cream.”
That draws a laugh from me. “Okay, thanks. I’ll call the nurse back and let her know to expect you.”
“When do you think you’ll come get her?”
The clock reads almost eleven a.m., but I have to account for traffic and errands. “By pickup time, so three at the latest?”
“Cool. Text when you’re headed this way.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” We disconnect, I call the nurse back, then sit back in relief: one problem solved.
Five minutes later, I exit the highway, two cars between the target and myself. I spare a moment to wonder who the woman is. Did whoever sent the package know she’d be there? After all, the riddle specifies the mark is a man. But it notably didn’t say to make sure the woman lives. I try very hard to not have collateral damage and never kill an innocent. But she’s in the car with him. A girlfriend, a wife? Or maybe a call girl. Or—I acknowledge my own sexism—a coworker. She was in a suit.
They weave through Austin and stop in front of a Four Seasons.
I raise a brow—not bad. Brian and I stayed at a Four Seasons on our honeymoon, and it cost about a thousand bucks a night. Granted, we didn’t get the cheapest room, but we didn’t get a top floor suite either. Whoever this is has money.
Which is likely why someone is willing to pay top dollar to have him killed.
I pull into one of the parking spots the mere plebeians use. Meanwhile, the town car parks under the covered area at the entrance. Stepping from the car, I keep what’s in my hand down by my side, but at the ready. This isn’t the time to kill whoever this is, just to identify them, be able to find them a second time.
Not to mention the fact that John has yet to fulfill his promise. I still don’t knowwhysomeone wants this guy dead. But I’ll sortthat out for myself. Whoever it is, they have a professional driver who knows how to watch for a tail, a fancy Cadillac with custom tinted windows. And they’re paying a lot to stay at the Four Seasons. They’re not nobody. Which means they’resomebody—somebody worth killing. I smile in satisfaction at that knowledge.
The driver goes around, opens the door. He offers a hand, and the woman steps out. My eyes narrow at her outfit change. No longer does she wear a simple gray pantsuit with flats. Instead, she’s shiny and eye-catching in a clingy red number, lipstick giving her a serious pout, heels to match. Frumpy tofuck me, just like that.
I raise my camera, snap three photos, rapid-fire, just like how I shoot my gun. My gaze lifts to the security cameras. I’ll need to leave fast. Likely, my paparazzi-like ways will be noticed at a place like this. But first I have to see him. The man I can’t wait to kill. And I will, soon.
My breath comes out stilted, and I think to myself,This is almost too easy.
