She looked around the back of her chair at me and rolled her eyes.
“So what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”
“Find the beach.”
“We’re staying on the beach. I have a house right on the sand.”
Her chair spun back around to face me. “Are you serious?”
“Views from every room.”
“How much money do you have?” she wondered.
More than she or I could ever spend. More money than some small countries. Killing paid well. Killing for over ninety years made a man very, very rich. I opened my mouth to answer and she held up her hand.
“Don’t answer. It doesn’t matter.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the way you earned it.”
Irritation slammed through me. Figures she’d say that. “Money is just paper. It really doesn’t have anything to do with the job.”
“You do the job for the money,” she spat.
“I do the job because I have to,” I snapped, getting up and going to the bar. Shit, this was going to be a long plane ride. I should have just left her in Alaska and done damage control when I got home. It probably would have done me good to get away from her. She drove me mad. I poured half a glass of brandy and took a swallow.
“Because you’ll get Recalled,” she said softly.
“Yeah, and I’m in no hurry for that to happen.”
“It’s pretty terrible?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it, love,” I said, wincing when the endearment slipped out.Again.I had no idea why I kept doing that. Calling people by anything other than their name was something I never did. “You won’t feel a thing.”
“But you will,” she whispered. I figured I wasn’t meant to hear that either so I didn’t bother to reply. I wasn’t naïve enough to think she actually cared.
“What’s the purpose of this trip anyway? I thought you were all about your Target,” she said with mock seriousness.
I didn’t bother to sit back down, but paced the cabin instead. This jet was feeling smaller than usual.
“I am all about my Target. That’s why you’re here.”
“Well, then?”
I took another drink of the alcohol and hoped it would numb my brain. She asked too many questions. “Work.”
“Is Rosalyn traveling to L.A.?” she wondered out loud. Then she said, “Couldn’t be, then you wouldn’t have cared if I was there.”
I stayed silent. I was tired of talking.
“If you’re not going for Rosalyn, but it’s still work…” She gasped. “You’re going to kill someone. Aren’t you?”
I closed my eyes. How did she make everything I did sound so awful? “It’s really not any of your business.”
