Page 62 of Ride with the Devil

Tucking my bag onto my lap, I slide into the booth before placing both of the coffees on the table top.

“Sorry about the wait. I needed a hit of caffeine and, well, you did tell me to meet you at a coffee shop.” I tap the lid on the left one. “This one’s black, no milk, no sugar.” I tap the right one. “This has some cream and two of those pink packets. Pick your poison.”

Winter purses his lips. “I prefer the one with cream, if you’re offering.”

That kind of surprises me. “Wow. Would’ve taken you for a black coffee drinker. Good thing I can drink every type of coffee. Here you go.” I push the right cup toward him.

Winter lifts the cup. Not surprisingly, the suspicious bastard lifts up the lid. He takes a sniff, then nods. It’s obviously the coffee with cream and sweetener, and after he replaces the lid, he takes a sip.

He waits expectantly.

I lift mine and swallow.

He drinks again, then lowers his cup. “Actually,” he says after a moment, “I do prefer a strong cup of coffee without anything added to it. However, I saw you pour something into the black coffee, and I thought it would be rude to refuse the offer of a free beverage from one of my employees.”

Because that’s what I’m supposed to be, right? A hired hitwoman.

The thumb drive of ‘evidence’ is in my bag. We’re not supposed to chat. I pass over the thumb drive, he checks the files on his computer, I get payment wired to my account.

Then again, I’ve never bought him coffee before.

I shrug. “Did I?”

“And, yet, you drink it.”

He thinks I did.

I use my fingernail to tap the side of his paper cup. “Did you see me doctor up this one?”

“Yes. The cream, as you said. And the fake sugar packets. Three of them, though. Not two.”

So hewaswatching.

Sitting up in my seat, I smile brightly at him. “Don’t forget the strychnine.”

Strychnine is odorless. He could sniff that coffee all he wants, and he’d never know I added anything other than what I said. The three sweet ‘n lows were meant to try to hide the bitter taste of the poison if that’s the cup he chose. I figured, if he went for the straight coffee, the bitter coffee itself could explain away the taste.

He took two sips. By my calculations, that should be enough.

Regular strychnine will show its effects in about fifteen to thirty minutes. Not everyone dies from a moderate dose, either. It won’t be pleasant, but they can survive it.

Which is why the liquid strychnine I keep in my lip gloss container is concentrated in a liquid form that will lead to death in less than a minute.

Does Winter know that? Maybe? I can see the sudden realization that he’s been poisoned in his dark eyes, in the way he reaches up, clutching his throat, and how his face starts to turn red.

I take that as my cue to go.

Taking my untouched, poisoned cup of coffee that I faked drinking with me so that I don’t inadvertently kill anyone else, I start scooting out of the booth.

His free hand clutches the table. His mouth opens, ready to shout for his two goons to stop me, maybe help him, but that’s when the choking starts.

I rise up from my seat.

Slapping the table now, Winter tries to push himself up.

Across the way, Football Jersey rises. I don’t know where Turtleneck is, but here’s hoping I can slip by him in the aftermath of what’s about to happen.

Walking with my cup, I start for the exit. At the same time, I hear athudbehind me. In the window’s reflection, I see Football Jersey racing for his boss, and Johnny Winter seizing on the ground, still choking though the sudden din in the room as others realizing that he’s having a medical episode drowns it out.

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