“I like you both.”
Wide grins filled their faces.
The power of the pussy.
“I have a thousand with me,” she whispered. “You get the rest at the church. And maybe I’ll tip you if you do a good job.”
A sound flew out of Fat Guy. She wasn’t sure if it was a moan or another belch.
“How do I know you’ll show?” she asked. “You might take my money and bolt.”
Fat Guy whistled.
The bartender made his way over. “Whatcha need Kev?”
“How many nights do me and Steve stop by here?”
“Every fuckin’ night,” the bartender said, and all three men laughed.
“We’ll see you at two in the morning,” Tat Guy said.
Brit handed them each five hundred. One more smile before she sashayed away, feeling their horny stares following her all the way to the door.
In the parking lot, she sucked down the cold night air, grateful to be away from them. Several seconds passed before the front door banged shut. She didn’t want to turn around, but she didn’t want to get ambushed either. The Hurly brothers could easily grab her, shove her in a car, and take off.
“Nice job.” Rebel’s gritty voice sent electricity streaming through her.
Rather than pull up beside her, he followed. She veered between two cars. He got behind the wheel, she opened the back door. Tinted windows and no interior SUV lights kept Brit well hidden.
Once on the main road, he flipped on the headlights and hit the gas.
“It worked,” she said from the back seat. “They’re meeting me and my coke-head husband at the abandoned chapel in Falls Church, two in the morning.”
“Thank you, babe.”
She’d never committed a crime, never even lifted a piece of candy from the bins at the grocery store when she was a kid.
Yes, her dad had trained her to be an assassin. But every kill was sanctioned. It didn’t make it right, it only allowed her to justify her actions.
She’d gone rogue. She’d become the judge, the jury, and the executioner.
How could she justify her actions now?
Joaquin
At one-thirty in the morning,Rebel parked in the empty lot. They were alone. Dressed in black, their body armor in place, he and Brit sat in silence. He, in the front seat. She, in the back.
They’d left their cell phones, burners, and driver’s licenses at his condo. He’d placed reflectors over the front and back plates of the SUV.
“Last chance to back out,” he murmured, his voice piercing the quiet night.
“I’m in.”
Though she spoke quietly, he couldn’t miss the confidence in her voice.
“Britain—”
“I can do this,” she said, cutting him off.
