She texted Nobu. “I’m not sure, but I felt like I was being followed.”
“Have you been ID’d?” Nobu shot back.
“No, I just got here yesterday and I’ve not been tracking Mr. X for long.”
“Did you see anyone, pick up on anything?” Nobu texted.
“Just a feeling.”
“Maybe someone was checking out your ass.”
“Ha ha ha… lol… you’re funny, idiot. I won’t go out again until it is time. I’ll have a double identity backup and get out fast.” She texted.
“Sounds good, stay safe and keep me posted.” Nobu ended.
When she arrived at her hotel, she went straight up to her room. She took off her wig and sat on the bed and picked up the channel changer. She nibbled on her bottom lip, it was a little disconcerting. She’d never experienced that feeling before and she didn’t want to discount it or blame it on her imagination. If she did that, she could end up dead. She’d keep a low profile and the day after tomorrow, she’d get the job done and head home.
She settled on HGTV and grabbed her bag of Cracker Jacks and began to munch. She’d thought about going out to eat, but with that funny feeling, she’d best order in. She reached over and picked up the menu from the hotel’s restaurant. She was happy they had TexMex on the menu. Being in Texas, she hoped that the food at the hotel was good. She was in the mood to eat.
Two days later, Imani woke up, she had a serious hangover. She’d binged on House of Cards, and was paying for it that morning. She crawled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, and nearly screamed when she saw her reflection in the hotel mirror. There was a piece of Cracker Jack popcorn stuck to her eyebrow, bits stuck in her hair and two peanuts stuck to her chin.
She leaned into the mirror to pull the bits off her face.
“That’s as close as you’ll ever get to having nuts on your chin, sister.” She said in a tired voice.
Ϫ
Haiden sat in a hotel room overlooking the festivities below. He’d continued following Davisson, but neither the woman, nor anyone else appeared to follow the man. He wondered if it were just his imagination that had gotten the better of him. After all, basing your assumptions over the walk of a person, wasn’t a whole lot to go on. She could have been a dancer. He had the Sig Sauer rifle aimed at Davisson, and he had his binos scanning the crowd. There were a lot of people down there. If whoever was going after Davisson was planning to get him, they’d be in real danger of either hitting someone else or getting caught.
It was a real possibility that the woman who was after him would do it up close and personal. Was she some scorned lover? Was Davisson Lawbreaker? Was that why he set up the hit? Get rid of a girlfriend? If so, he was sure Davisson would have a better photo.
If the woman hit him with maybe poison, there wasn’t a lot he could do about that. He’d have to make sure that he looked for anything coming at him or perhaps his drink or food. Waitress? Server? He was on the fourth floor, his window facing the crowd below. He had a good overshot of the area. He watched as the band played on the dais. There were food vendors, and children running around. Not a good place for a shooting match.
Then his eye caught movement, it was the blonde. He saw her step between two people and into a crowd. It was her! He couldn’t see her face behind the mask she wore, but he recognized that walk, that slinking walk, smooth and sure. He brought the rifle to bear, he zeroed in on her head, but he didn’t have a clear shot. There were just too many people around. She was forty feet away from Davisson, so he knew she didn’t have a clear shot either. So maybe she needed to get closer in. He followed her with his scope.
He lost her when she passed two men with sombreros, and then he heard screams. He looked over and Davisson was down. How in the hell had she gotten off the shot? He swung his weapon, looking for her. He could not see her, people were running now and his chance was gone.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He cursed low. He got up from the chair and broke the rifle down and put it in the guitar case and then left the hotel. This trip was a bust.
Ϫ
The music was blaring, and the wonderful redolent scent of fried dough pervaded the street. She was enjoying herself, and smiled beneath her mask. She moved to the music and had danced with a couple of handsome celebrators. She’d have to get some of the churros before she hit her target, because she wouldn’t be able to afterword.
She bought two of the confections and a drink and devoured them. She felt her cheeks pinken beneath the mask, they always did when she ate something delicious. She was enjoying the music and festive atmosphere. She would be sorry to break it up, but it had to be done. She moved through the crowds and she drew closer to her target. She began to feel that nagging buzz at the back of her head. She continued dancing, but looked around. She could see nothing out of the ordinary. She looked in the buildings around her. Nothing.
She dropped her bag and squatted down to pick it up, people moving around her. Reaching into her jacket, she pulled her Ruger out, she took aim, using her bag to shield the gun. She breathed slowly and took the shot. Done, as she began
