psychological addiction of killing, the emotional drawâthe satisfaction that went beyond a paycheck. Melanie liked money. But money wasnât why sheâd become a paid assassin.
âIâm not letting you screw up a good thing for me.â He sat back and gave her a grim look. âYou should never have gotten involved with Thomas Asher. You should have at least told me when you did.â
Heâd found out two weeks ago when heâd come to Washington to discuss the Bruni hit. âI didnât know weâd be given Alex Bruni as a target.â Melanie kept her voice low, but she was careful not to sound defensive. âWeâre partners, Kyle, but you donât own me. You and I are together maybe a week, at most two weeks, a month. You donât live in Washington. Iâm not even sure where you do live. Iâm entitled to have a life.â
âNot with someone you met in Black Falls, Vermont.â
She ignored him. âThomas could have seen me this morning,â she said.
Kyle shook his head. âNo, he couldnât have, and it wouldnât have mattered. Your disguise was good. Your timing was perfect. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.â
âYour plan worked,â Melanie said, hoping flattery would distract him from how annoyed he was about her relationship with Thomas.
âYes, it did.â
There was no pride, no sense of accomplishment, where there should have been. She never could have pulled off such a hit by herselfâshe wasnât the planner Kyle was. Calculating the details of running a prominent ambassador over in broad daylight was where his limited imagination kicked into action and combined with his logical, lethal mind. Heâd left nothing to chance. The hit-and-run death of Alex Bruni was pure choreography.
But thanks to her relationship with Thomas, sheâd known Bruni would be at the hotel that morning, thus making the final choice of the time and place to kill him that much simpler.
âThere was a messenger,â she said in a near whisper. âA young woman on a bicycleâI almost ran her over, too.â
âShe didnât see anything that can identify either of us.â
He was so calm. So certain, so reassuring. Melanie felt a twitch of desire and knew it would become more urgentâit always did after a successful mission. Very soon the twitch would become an ache that would take over her body, her mind, every fiber of her being. She wouldnât be able to think about anything else until it was satisfied.
âKyleâ¦â
He was like a rock. âMeet me at my hotel in an hour. Room 257.â
She glanced around the restaurant. âIf weâre seen togetherââ
âIâm one of your decorating clients. Nothing more.â
Melanie hesitated. âKyleâ¦why did we kill Alex Bruni?â
âHe had enemies. One of them wanted him dead enough to pay to make it happen.â
The equation was always so simple and direct for him. âI donât like it that Bruni vacationed in Black Falls. He knew Drew Cameron. I donât understand why we killed him, either. Who wanted Bruni dead? Who hired us? It wasnât his wifeâhis ex-wife?â Or Thomas. It couldnât have been Thomas.
âYou know as much as I do.â
Melanie doubted that. Kyle dealt with their employers. Their transactions were conducted entirely over the Internetâno names, no faces. Just codes and passwords. He claimed even he didnât know who paid them to kill people, who served as the middleman between them and the enemies of their targets. She executed her part of Kyleâs plan and asked no questions. She was paid well and accepted that nothing short of perfection was expected of her.
But soon none of that would be of any concern to her. âI havenât changed my mind,â she said. âIâm still retiring.â
âSure.â
âIâm