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It won’t be forever,I remind myself. It just feels that way right now.

I flick through a few emails as I wait for my coffee to brew, but none of it sinks in. It’s like the day Travis died, so did I. I mean, technically, I did. I was in the car with him when we were run off the road and when it caught fire.

I was right next to him when the man that ran us off the road walked toward the flipped car and crouched down to see if we were alive. And I was right next to him when that same man pointed a gun at my brother’s head and pulled the trigger, covering me with his blood as well as my own from the accident.

The thing that has never quite made sense to me is why I didn’t meet the same fate.

The car exploded, but I wasn’t in it. Someone pulled me out before it could, and that’s just another question to add to the never-ending pile, but at the top of it is one I rarely let myself think about.

Why didn’t he kill me as well?

I shake the thought away. He’s going to wish he had killed me. He’s going to wish he didn’t leave me alive that night when I come for him. When I destroy him for what he stole from me.

The man they call The Hunter will regret every choice he’s ever made once I’m done with him.

Alot of thieves believe the middle of the night is the best time to work, and they’re not entirely wrong. We all have our own ways of going about things. It’s just I prefer to do the bulk of my work in broad daylight.

I slip on dark sunglasses as I step out onto the street. It’s hot as fuck in sunny LA, and even in my short summer dress and strappy sandals, I have to fight the urge to fan myself. As soon as my debt to Lucas is paid, I’m getting the fuck out of this hellscape. I want to live somewhere cold, the mountains maybe. Somewhere quiet and away from a majority of the human race.

When you grow up the way I did, your views on humanity are pretty fucking skewed. Everyone has their own agenda. No one truly cares about others. If they did, there wouldn’t be war or famine. There wouldn’t be people with more money than God or governments set on stealing rights out from under our noses. There would be peace.

I roll my eyes at myself. I need to get my head in the game if I want to get the job done before I meet with Lucas in a few hours. He’s wanted to see me a lot more recently than he ever did whenmy brother was alive, and I’m not entirely comfortable with the way he looks at me.

It’s probably in my head. He’s just keeping a closer eye on me because of my loss. He thinks I’ll make mistakes because I’m grieving. But if anything, I’m more focused than I’ve ever been.

I want out of this life before it kills me too, and the only way that’s happening is if I work my ass off to pay off our debt and make enough money to set up a cozy life far away from LA.

The coffee shop is packed when I slip inside and glance around at the patrons.

Perfect.

My mark sits in the corner. His laptop is open in front of him as he scowls at the screen. His briefcase is on the spare seat, in his direct eye line, telling me he brought it with him.

Idiot.

You’d think these assholes would know better than to take their most valuable items with them wherever they go. If he’d left the documents in his safe in his office, I would have had a hell of a time getting to them, but his own stupidity was a gift to me.

I love it when they make my job easy.

I stand in line for ten minutes, taking the time to observe those sitting around James Taylor. He’s a city attorney who has a little too much evidence on my boss, but he knows better than to leave that kind of thing on the city’s computer system. Which means there’s one set of files, and they’re in that briefcase.

His gray hair is thinning on top, and his light blue eyes have been locked on his laptop since I walked in, which means he’s focused on work and not on what’s happening around him.

I place my order and wait at the side for my iced chai latte. There are a few ways I can play this. All of them have their own merits, but if there’s one thing I learned from my recon, it’s that James is a sucker for a girl the age of his granddaughter. Thenumber of affairs this guy has under his belt even shocked me, and I deal with people like him every day.

Once I have my coffee in my hand, I take a sip and move toward him. I make a show of looking around for a seat, but they’re all taken, except for the chair with the briefcase.

Fate is really looking down on me today.

“Excuse me?” I say as I stop at the edge of his table, pushing my chest out to give him a perfect view of my chest.

His eyes slowly move up my body, pausing for too long on the swell of my hips before they flick to my eyes and then settle exactly where I intended. I didn’t bother with contacts or a wig because I knew the only thing he would remember was what my tits looked like, and it’s a little hard to give the cops a description that only includes the chest.

“What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could sit with you?” I nod to the briefcase. “There are no other seats, and I just had a fight with my boyfriend. He’s been talking to other women, and I had to get out of the apartment.” I infuse as much distress into my voice as I can manage, because if there’s anything that makes a man uncomfortable, it’s an upset woman.

I used to do everything I could not to appear weak in front of men, but I quickly learned that is exactly what I should look like, even if it’s not the case. Not even close.