The phone kept buzzing. The vibration seemed amplified as it danced against the metal sheets. My fingers tightened on the key. I slipped it into the lock, smooth as butter.

Whoever was phoning seemed determined. They weren’t taking a breath between calls now.

I paused before turning the key in the lock. My quiet life would be dismantled if I opened this drawer.

Should I?

In a fit of curiosity and… another emotion I refused to name, I opened the latch and plucked the phone out of the charger. It came loose with a pop.

I flipped the burner phone open and stared at the name parading on the screen.

Unknown.

Of course. The people who had access to this line wouldn’t want their number exposed.

I answered the call.

At first, there was silence.

Then a woman’s prim voice echoed over the line. “You answered.”

“Rhia.”

“Deacon. You have a job.”

“It’s been a long ti

me.”

“I’ll send you the location.”

“You’re not going to ask how I’ve been?”

“I’ve never had the patience for small talk. I trust you’ll show?”

“I’m retired.”

“Then why did you answer my call?”

My lips clamped shut. She had a point.

“I understand your… situation.” She choked on the word. “And I arranged for a few days so you can make arrangements. Any objections?”

“You couldn’t find anyone else?”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a question, Rhia.”

“One I’m not obligated to answer.”

“Who is it?”

She paused. “Does it matter?”

“No.” I answered immediately, honestly. Sentiments had no place in this line of work. And even if I had any hesitation, I knew that most targets had dirty hands. Warranted killings. It made the job easier to swallow.

“Good. We’re all set?”