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KEVIN DOYLE HAD been texting back and forth with his employer. The little burner phone he’d bought from a kiosk in a shopping center on Long Island didn’t have the best on-screen keyboard.

He was sitting in his rental car a block down from the diner where Tammy worked for her uncle. He couldn’t get the pretty triathlete out of his head. He noticed that the big tattooed guy was back in the diner tonight. She did work fast.

Doyle had been using the quiet time to communicate with his employer. A call might’ve been easier, but he felt like this was safer.

Then the text came through that he didn’t want to see. It might be time to take action. Stand by. It’ll take a little while to work it out.

He knew that probably meant Bennett. He really hadn’t wanted to do anything like this. Killing the retired cops was bad enough. This felt like a sin. An even worse sin than the ones he had already committed.

Doyle texted, Bennett’s tough.

I’ll send you some help.

Can they be trusted?

No names. Just backup.

So he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone anything even if he got caught.

Doyle considered it. He rarely worked with partners. When he first got into the business, after his stint in the military, some of his government employers would send a second along. They were rarely much help. He always felt like they were there to snitch more than anything else.

Doyle tried to look on the other side of the coin. If he lined everything up properly, maybe he could have his partner take the shot. That wouldn’t feel as bad as Doyle pulling the trigger himself. Finally, he texted his employer and said, Okay. I’ll take the help.

The next text was right to the point. Nothing fancy. No collateral damage. Just eliminate him. I’ll text you where and when to meet your partner. Might be a couple of days. Keep on other jobs until you hear from me. It was followed by a smiley face emoji.

It didn’t lighten his mood.

Doyle was apprehensive about using someone else on this job. But he saw all the potential positives. This job and visit to New York had not turned out the way he thought it would. He had too many professional and personal ties here. But it had convinced Doyle he needed to step away from this business. He made up his mind. This was his last job.

He looked through his windshield one last time. Although the diner was busier than usual, Tammy was lingering at the end of the counter, chatting with the biker-looking dude. She even reached up and touched his scraggly beard. It made Doyle’s stomach turn.

He thought about what would happen if he took Tammy up on her offer. Now he realized he’d have to deal with the biker if he wanted to talk to Tammy again.

Maybe Bennett would be his second-to-last job.