I take a sip from the coffee in front of me, the space between my brows creased with concentration as I read through the file on my phone. As I do, I stop on a photo, then glance across the diner at the matching face.

At you.

I’m a hitman, mostly for-hire but also with recurring clients who deal in less than legal activities. My latest client has promised me a hefty amount of money in return for your termination.

I don’t know details. That’s part of why people gravitate towards my services. I don’t ask for the nitty gritty, just a full payment in untraceable cash and information on the target.

Except this is my first client who’s a girl. Still not sure how I feel about that.

My eyes narrow slightly as I watch you smile and laugh with some elderly customers in another booth. You’re a waitress at this shitty diner, so I figured a visit wouldn’t hurt. See what I’m dealing with.

See how close I could get.