Chapter 4
Grace
Idouble-checked that my phone was off this time, trying desperately to ignore that presence in the back of my mind telling me I was stupid.
When had I ever forgotten to turn the damn device off, let alone silence it? Henley was fucking with my head—distracting me—so even if I hadn’t been tasked with ending his life, I’d still likely go through with it, simply due to the fact that he was annoying as shit.
There was absolutely nothing I was willing to let get in the way of keeping my life.
Despite being forced into this job, the money was good.
Photography and selling rare plants on the side wouldn’t cover my cost of living—not in this economy.
But making money off fulfilling the tasks assigned to me wasn’t the only motivator; staying alive was a big one, too.
If I didn’t complete a kill within a certain amount of time, I’d be the next target.
My first job was completed within an hour. I was weaker a year ago, easily taken advantage of because I was tall and skinny—in other words, uncoordinated and in desperate need of a gym membership. Because of that, I’d ended up with a broken arm that night, and more blood on me than the pavement.
Back then, I typically dumped bodies in dumpsters. Now I got creative with things like acid or rocks tied to limbs in large bodies of water or—my least favorite—feeding them to pigs.
Don’t worry. I was careful to find pigs that weren’t destined to be eaten. They lived on a little farm on the outskirts of Whiskey Ridge, where the owners never kept an eye out past dark to see if anyone was trespassing to use their livestock to cover up a murder.
I wondered if the bodies’ remains made for good fertilizer. Would my plants like that?
My nose scrunched as I patted the knife sheathed on my thigh. I couldn’t imagine how badly that would make my house reek, and that’d make me all the more likely to get caught.
I had to separate the sane side of myself from the desperate side. No murder equaled no life. That was what ran on repeat in my head each time I was assigned a new target. Which was becoming more often, due to my excelling at…killing.
Henley was heading to some pool hall, taking his sweet time as he smoked a cigarette outside the main door.
In his defense, he didn’t know he was being followed by an impatient woman who was shivering in the frigid Idaho air.
There was a reason I rarely left my house in the winter.
Damn this job for making me break that habit.
In the dim light outside the building, I watched the cherry burn bright red once more before he dropped it to the sidewalk and snuffed it out with his boot, then walked inside the establishment.
Inevitably, he’d be coming out for another one soon.
I’d been watching him for days, learning his patterns so I could strike nice and easily when the time was right.
Well, like I said, I was impatient, and by day three, I was ready to get this over with.
Under my gloves, I flexed my fingers to keep some blood flowing through them as I waited. And waited. And waited.
“He better be winning a goddamn yacht in there,” I muttered, breath fanning in front of me in a puff of white. I’d opted not to park nearby for fear he might recognize my car. If he was anything like his friends, he was always aware of his surroundings.
Finally, Henley appeared, lighter and cigarette in hand. He brought the filter to his lips, but rather than lighting it right away, he paused. His eyes scanned the street, and though I was hidden by the dark, I still slid farther around the corner of the brick building on instinct.
Seconds passed, and I counted my breaths.
There was no way he knew I was here. The man might be hyperaware, especially after I’d tried to shoot him and missed, but there wasn’t a single chance I’d been spotted.
I was wearing all black—I’d even matched my bra and panties—and there were no streetlights here.
I was being paranoid.
Deciding the coast was clear, I peeked my head out from around the building. His form retreated down the alley bordering the pool hall, and I figured now was a better time than any.
I ducked—as if that would help keep me hidden—and hurried across the street. I looked around the corner to find he hadn’t turned around. My toes were numb with cold as I tried to keep my steps as silent as possible.
I tiptoed toward him, sliding my knife from its sheath.
He wore a jacket, the collar pulled up to ward off the chill, but I could easily make a clean cut. I was still debating between stabbing straight into his jugular or slicing across the front. Stabbing would probably be cleaner, but slicing was more satisfying.
As I came within mere feet of him, I raised my arm. Then I pounced.
The leap felt like miles, but then the tip of my knife hit that resistance I was so accustomed to now—the one that meant I’d landed the kill.
A smile crept onto my lips, but the pressure on my wrist had it immediately falling.
Many things happened at once.
The handle slipped from my grasp, Henley spun, and my back slammed into a wall.
A grunt escaped me as my head snapped back against something rock-hard. My skull hurt, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I were bleeding.
My vision went dizzy, but Henley’s hand wrapping around my neck snapped me back to the present.
His body pinned mine to the freezing bricks, but they weren’t nearly as cold as the barrel of his gun now pressing into my temple.
Who will water my plants if I die?
His face twisted lethally, murder clearly on his mind. I didn’t blame him. I’d ruined a seemingly good night for him. But sometimes sacrifices had to be made.
I didn’t hear the safety click, which meant he’d had it off all along.
Great, Grace. Should’ve listened to your gut. He definitely fucking saw you.
His grip tightened on my throat, cutting off my ability to breathe. The adrenaline thawed my frozen bones, the muscles in my leg moving on instinct. My knee came up, but I must’ve been too slow, because his thigh blocked it easily.
My hands wrapped around his forearm, trying with every ounce of strength to peel him off. If I hadn’t been standing in the cold so long—
“Grace?”
My entire body froze at the slight surprise in his voice. The look in his eyes changed completely, replaced with one I couldn’t quite decipher. There was still that hint of deadly intent in his depths, but…
I was losing oxygen and I’d hit my head. Delirium was inevitable.
“You tried to kill me?”
The pressure on my neck barely lessened, but it was enough for me to croak, “Twice.”
It was a stupid admission, really. I only wanted to take the credit, even if I had missed the first time.
But again, it was stupid.
Because one second, he looked like he might loosen his hold completely and let me go. But the smarter, more rational side of his brain must’ve shoved that shit aside, and he acted.
He reared his arm back, not even the glimmer of an apology in his gaze. Then the butt of the gun slammed into the side of my head, and the world tilted into black.