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His eyes were set on mine. Motionless and dark. He didn't smile. The muscles of his face didn't twitch. Vega's hands spread open across the tops of his thighs, and he inhaled a deep breath. A weighted breath. A breath that he didn't let go of for a very long time. And once he did, he turned his head to the window.

Vega didn't answer me. We drove in silence. I watched the trees and the mountains whisk past. Little houses would pop up every so often. Small stores or plazas with a handful of shops were peppered in between. The driver knew where we were going. Vega knew where we were going. And I was still in the dark.

“We're getting close,” Vega said as he shifted in his seat. “Not too much longer.”

“Can you tell me where we're going?”

“My home.”

The car turned up a long, dirt road, and twisted and turned around sharp corners and blind bends. Eventually, it opened up to a house that didn't fit. It wasn't a log cabin. It wasn't covered in debris and lost to time. It was the diamond in the stone. A beautiful chalet-style cabin with huge windows and a deck that wrapped around the outside was in the center of a large clearing. The roof was made of metal, and a stone chimney separated thewindows like the bridge of a nose. Smoke poured out of the top, lifting to the sky and bleeding into the clouds.

“You live here?” I asked.

“I do.”

“It's so far away from everything.”

“That's the point. No one knows where it is.”

“The driver does.”

“My driver, Samuel, he's like family. Plus, he knows if he ever tells anyone, I'll kill him and his family without a second thought.”

“Some boss you are.”

“It's a dangerous profession, Poppy. I don't take any chances.”

“You took one with me, didn't you? You're supposed to kill me. That was your job, wasn't it?”

“You're right,” Vega said calmly as the vehicle came to a stop. He opened his door and glanced back at me. “Don't make me regret it”.

Chapter Ten

Vega

“Who is she?” I asked as I slipped the photo out of the folder.

It was a young, pretty girl with big blue eyes and dark brown hair. She was smiling at the photographer, happy, blissful, and completely unaware of what was coming.

But I knew what was coming. I was looking at a dead girl.

“Who she is doesn't matter. That's not what I'm paying you for.” Gerard adjusted himself in the chair. He crossed his right leg over his left to pick something off his shoelace and flicked it onto the floor. “I think it's irrelevant.”

“What you think doesn't matter to me. I need to know her name. How the hell am I supposed to do my job without it?” I questioned the man sitting in my office.

He said his name was Gerard and he had a job for me. Gerard claimed he had worked with my father years ago. Whether or not he could be trusted was still to be determined. My profession wasn't one you see kids aspire to become in high school. No one wrote Future Hitman in their senior yearbook.

“Won't that make it too personal?” he asked.

“I know all their names. It's how I get the job done.” I held the picture, burning her image into my mind. “So, what's her name? I won't ask you a third time.” I flicked my eyes to his.

This wasn't a game. I didn't play games. If he wanted it done right, I needed to know.

“Poppy Aneska.”

I arched a brow as I dropped my eyes back to the image. “You're serious?”

My job came with enough risks; I didn't need to deal with some asshole who might get cold feet. I took my job seriously, and once the deal was made, there was no going back. If I eventhought for a second that this man wasn't serious, that he might have second thoughts, or that he was working with the cops, I was out. So far, he didn't smell like a rat. But again, trust was earned. I didn't care if he was best friends with my fucking father, I didn't know him. Gerard was just another asshole as far as I was concerned.