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Eva

I stole Jonathan’s suitcase. I mean, why not? I plan to return it, if I can. If I can’t, I’m doing Jonathan and the French police a favor. All these illegal weapons could incite a manhunt.

Once I am safely inside my hotel room, I remove all the weapons from the suitcase. I spread them everywhere, across the desk and the bed and floor. There are more than meet the eye, dozens of weapons all stowed in customized compartments. I have to think he can’t be selling them.

He must be a collector, but someone so strong with so many weapons? A person’s mind starts to wonder, especially when that person is an assassin.

You can learn a lot about someone by looking at their weapons.

Me, I’m a simple girl. Give me a Glock and a prayer; that’s all I need. Jonathan’s array is excessive—so excessive and so spotless that I have to think he can’t be using them. A professional would know to keep things streamlined. Which means he must be playing with them. Maybe he thinks they’re cool. Maybe they make him feel powerful.

I search the suitcase, looking for a clue that will reveal his identity, but there isn’t one. It’s smart, I have to admit. If the police had picked this up, they never would’ve tied it back to him. That’s exactly what I do with my weapons.

But it leaves me holding the bag, literally. All of these weapons, some illegal, are now in my possession. I should get rid of them. But part of me hopes that one day I really will be able to return them to him.

I don’t have time to think about that now. I have a man to kill. And to do that, I need a shower, a blow-dry and a lethal amount of makeup.