Page 154 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
The financial district spreads before us in concrete and glass. I park two blocks from the target location.
"Your position will be there." I point toward a café with clear sightlines to Williams' location but protected from potentialcrossfire. "Wi-fi access, multiple exit routes, far enough from the target zone to maintain safety margins."
I reach back and squeeze her thigh gently before we dismount. "Stay sharp, little bunny."
James Williams maintains patterns with clockwork regularity that would make a Swiss timepiece jealous. Coffee shop on Montgomery Street every day at 4:30 PM, same corner table, same newspaper routine that's been logged for three weeks straight.
The kind of predictable behavior that should make elimination work textbook simple.
"Target acquired," I murmur into the comms unit, watching Williams through the scope mounted on my rifle. The construction site across from the coffee shop provides perfect elevation, clear backdrop, minimal civilian interference.
"I've got eyes on four different security cameras," Vanessa responds, her voice carrying through my earpiece with crystal clarity. "Two city traffic monitors, one bank ATM, one private business system. Give me thirty seconds."
Her voice carries steady focus through my earpiece, the sound of rapid keystrokes barely audible in the background. The familiar rhythm of her working feels like symphony accompaniment to operational planning.
"Systems compromised," she reports. "I've created a four-minute loop of empty footage. Clean window opens in sixty seconds."
Williams lifts his coffee cup right on schedule. Perfect positioning for the shot I've been calculating since we arrived. Wind speed negligible, target stationary, backdrop clear of complications.
But watching him through the scope, something feels different. Calmer. More focused than any elimination I've completed in months.
Because she's here. Because she's part of this instead of miles away wondering if I chose duty over her.
"Thirty seconds," Vanessa's voice carries steady confidence. "All digital evidence being scrubbed in real time. Vehicle registration already ghosted. You're invisible."
I line up the shot with mechanical precision, breathing steady, trigger finger applying graduated pressure exactly as trained. Williams sits perfectly still, unaware that his crimes have finally caught up to him.
"Ten seconds."
The shot breaks clean at exactly 4:32 PM. Williams drops immediately, coffee cup shattering against wet sidewalk. No witnesses look up. No cameras record suspicious activity. No digital footprints remain to connect bullets to operators.
"Target down," I report, already breaking down the rifle in seconds and fitting it precisely back within my specialized pack.
"All systems restored to normal operation," Vanessa confirms. "Footage loops ended, real feeds resumed. You were never here."
By the time we reach the Ducati, early news reports describe a "shooting incident under investigation." The kind of clinical language that means investigators haven't figured out what they're dealing with yet.
"That was..." Vanessa's voice comes through the helmet comm system, slightly breathless. "That was incredibly hot."
Her fingers trace deliberately along my ribs where she's holding on, the touch both steadying and provocative.
Most people would be horrified. Shocked. Maybe even sick.
Not my little bunny. She's practically glowing behind me.
"I just killed a man."
"I know." Her grip shifts, one hand sliding lower to rest against my stomach. "You were so calm. So controlled."
I reach back and squeeze her thigh firmly through her jeans, a warning wrapped in affection.
"Behave, little bunny. Traffic." Her soft laugh vibrates through the comm. "Most people would run."
"Most people aren't me." Her voice drops to that husky tone that makes my blood heat even through tactical focus. "Most people didn't just watch their partner execute a perfect mission."
The word 'partner' hits differently now. Not just in bed. In everything.
"We make a good team," she says, and there's heat in her voice that has nothing to do with technical success.
