Page 18 of A One Woman Job

“You’re talking to someone who makes paper airplanes for cash.”

An odd sound leaves me, almost like a strained laugh, but nothing about standing on this precipice is funny. “What I do is…Meg, I don’t know what to say.”

“Koen.” She raises her head to look at me, scared but brave. “I already kind of pieced together that what you do is, um…illegal.”

My lungs aren’t working. Is she going to run? “That’s putting it mildly.”

Visibly deep in thought, she wets her lips. “Drugs?”

“No, baby.”

“You don’t traffic people.”

“No, Meg. God, no.” I take the heaviest breath of my life and make sure my arm is around her as securely as possible, in case she bolts. This is the moment I realize…I wouldn’t let her leave, if she tried. Jesus, I’m in very deep. “But I’ve killed a few men who do.” My swallow is heavy. “I’ve killed a lot of men, Meg.”

Her back stiffens and she blinks several times, tears swimming in her eyes. “I think maybe I already knew,” she whispers, barely audible.

“I’ve stopped.” I remember the man’s neck I snapped last night. “Mostly.”

There’s a long pause. “Why did you stop?”

“I can’t talk about that,” I say quickly. I don’t have shield for this. I haven’t had time to develop one. There’s nothing but a gaping wound and thinking about what happened on my last assignment only pours more and more salt into the injury. “Okay?”

She’s disappointed, even though she’s nodding.

I can’t bear it.

Shouldn’t I reward her for not running when I revealed I’m a professional killer?

“There was a job,” I say, my lips numb. I’ll only tell her surface level stuff, just so she won’t be disappointed. I won’t get too detailed. “I was hired to remove someone, Meg. And…I didn’t recognize the name when I received the assignment. I’ve seen so many names on paper over the years.”Stop here. You should stop here.But I don’t. Because she slips her hand into mine and kisses my shoulder and it all comes spilling out. “His grandmother used to feed me, before my parents traded me to cover their debt. I would wait at her backdoor, covered in filth and she’d give me a paper plate of whatever they’d eaten for dinner that night. She was so kind to me. The only person who’d ever been kind to me and I…I killed her grandson. She discovered him in a pool of his own blood.”

I’m shocked to feel moisture trickle down my side. It’s Meg’s tears.

She’s crying for me?

“Why did you kill him?”

“He was a cocaine smuggler. He made a deal with a rival operation. My boss wanted to make an example out of him. I didn’t even think, I just fulfilled my duty. That’s what I always do. It’s just an endless cycle of violence.”

“And you don’t want to do it anymore.”

“No.” I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head. I can’t believe she isn’t trying to leave me. “Problem is, I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“You play a mean violin.” She wraps her arm around my middle and holds me, too, as if she can sense I’m about to fall apart. “Maybe…maybe the problem is that you never take a break? Maybe you need a vacation from your job…before you go back. That’s normal, isn’t it? Professional burnout?”

“I suppose so.” My lips twitch, because I sense she’s trying to make light of a heavy topic, which is so like my Meg. But my amusement fades to dread. Dread of her answer to my next question. “Would you stay with me if I returned to my job?”

Several seconds pass. I hold my breath, but she finally nods. “Yes.”

I can’t hide my surprise. Or my immense relief. “You’re taking this very well.”

“I have no choice,” I think she says, her tone conflicted.

But I can’t be sure.

Later, I’ll recall this moment and be sure, though.

8

---