Page 43 of Deadly Deception

“Oh? What kind of job?” It is a stupid question. He is a hitman, for crying out loud, but I have to bide myself some time in case this isn’t just a social call.

“The usual.” His tone is so matter-of-fact, revealing nothing. It is disconcerting, being on the receiving end and not knowing the outcome.

I play along, knowing there is nothing else I could do. “So you come all the way to paradise just to work.” I shake my head as if disappointed. “What a shame to waste all this beauty. You really should take some time off while you’re here to enjoy the view.”

“Oh, I plan to. This is my last gig.”

“Oh?” I’m surprised to hear it. “Then what?”

“Retirement.”

Did hitmen really retire? Weren’t they natural-born killers who couldn’t walk away from a good killing? Like those military men who disabled bombs. I’d watched a movie once, based on a true story. The men were so addicted to the adrenaline rush that they’d rather be in the field staring down death every day than lead a normal life with their wife and kids back home.

But then, Declan didn’t strike me as the type to harbor addictions. He was so controlled. Hell, here he was in the sand and didn’t he even have a drink in his hand.

“So you came all the way here,” I hedge, “and just happened to come across little old me. What are the odds?”

He doesn’t speak right away, but when he does, his response only heightens my worry. “I knew you’d be here.”

I swallow past the growing lump in my throat, clear it twice, and take another sip of my drink. It was nearly gone now, just a hint of peach color in the bottom and a yellow cocktail umbrella clinging to the edge of the glass, it’s cherry long gone. “So you popped by for a visit before you get to work? That’s sweet.” Maybe he’d missed me.

“Something like that.”

He was so short on words. It doesn’t help my nerves at all.

Maybe that’s why I’m starting to feel light-headed. There is a sick feeling swimming in my gut, and a light sweat has broken out across my forehead. My nerves must be more rattled than I thought. I would say it was nice to see him again, but honestly, I’m hoping he’ll leave soon. We had a nice time together at the cabin, but that was over. I’d put it behind me as a fond memory, and I never intended to look back.

“So, what kind of business? Like, plumbing business?” I wipe the back of my wrist across my forehead, clearing the moisture collecting there. It isn’t hot, but I’m clammy, and that sick feeling is intensifying, my stomach turning on itself over and over, like the waves that are rolling in and crashing against the shoreline.

“Yes, plumbing.” He turns his head, looking at me through those dark lenses.

Why did that scare her so much? “So who’s the lucky fellah?”

He regards me a moment before asking, “Are you feeling okay?”

I try to shrug it off, but the feeling of falling down into an abyss from a high-rise hits me, and I grip the arms of my Adirondack and press my back into the plastic slats. “Actually, not too great at the moment. I think I had too much to drink.”

I’ve never been much for drinking, but I’ve been taking it slow, nursing my drinks and eating little things in between to make sure I don’t hit my body with a one-two punch. Guess I miscalculated.

Casting my gaze toward the resort, I mentally calculate how many steps I’d have to take to get back to my room, all the turns and walkways and doors. It seems insurmountable, the effort it would take for me to get there.

“Right now, I bet you’re regretting coming so far out here, away from everyone.”

My attention snaps back to Declan, a sinking feeling that has nothing to do with the mounting sickness swimming in my gut. How did he know? “Yeah…” I hesitate. “I just didn’t want to be so close to everyone. The pool can get so loud.”

He nods as if in understanding.

“Declan…”

“Yes, Faith?”

“Why are you here?” The sinking feeling definitely isn’t just the illness that had suddenly overcome me. It’s more. It’s a warning.

“I told you, Faith. I have an assignment.”

Again, I swallow. “Who? Who is your target?”

I know the answer before he gives voice to it. “I think you already know the answer,” he echoes my thoughts.

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