Page 9 of The Hitman’s Final Job

She shakes her head. “I got it for less than a minute to memorize the face before the message disappeared.”

My jaw tightens. I was joking with Zuza. She is definitely the best operative I’ve worked with, and if she twists my arm, I’ll tell her she’s better than me. But I have something she doesn’t. A photographic memory.

So, for Draven to choose Zuza out of the two of us to receive this information means he’s either really pissed off or he’s ready to let me go. My gut feeling tells me everything is off. Draven’s behavior is off. This fucking job is off.

“I don’t like working half-informed.”

“You’ve worked with less.”

“I didn’t like it then either. So. The target.” I straighten in the chair, roll my shoulders back. Business. “Where are they staying?”

She barely turns her head toward the window. Toward the Bristol Hotel across the road.

I stare at her. “There?”

“Yes.”

“That hotel. The one across the street. That we can see from where we’re sitting.”

“The very same.”

“Which is directly adjacent to the presidential palace. Which means there are armed security personnel at two checkpoints within visual range of the entrance, a rotation of plainclothes details on the surrounding block, and depending on whether there are any scheduled functions this week, potentially⁠—”

“Silas.” She says my name the way she does when I’m listing problems she’s already solved. “I know.”

“Then tell me how.”

She pushes back her chair and stands. The emerald dress settles around her like she was built inside it. She’s not tall—five-four at most—but the way she carries herself makes rooms reorganize themselves around her, and for a moment I just watch her smooth the fabric at her waist with one hand, unhurried, completely unbothered by the logistics nightmare she’s just casually dropped on the table between us.

“He came back from the conference at six thirty. Right about now he’s getting ready to have dinner on his own, like he has over the past two nights.” She picks up her clutch from the table, wearing that particular expression—not quite a smile, not quite a challenge, somewhere between them. “Let’s see which one of us gets a free meal out of this job.”

I sit there for a moment, cataloging everything that could go wrong with walking into a secured hotel adjacent to a presidential complex with incomplete intelligence and a target I know nothing about.

Then I stand up.

Zuza turns toward the door, and I follow her, telling myself the feeling settling into my chest is just the familiar cold focus of a job beginning. That it isn’t dread.

One last job. That’s all this is. And this time I know it’s not a lie I’m telling myself.

FOUR

SILAS

The lobby of the Bristol Hotel is everything Warsaw’s old money wants you to experience: marble floors worn smooth by a century of expensive shoes, ostentatious crystal chandeliers that make the space feel like a ballroom, and well-groomed staff trained to please. I’m sure this hotel has seen its fair share of royalty and famous celebrities walk through its doors, but tomorrow morning, when we’ll be far away from here and any signs of our presence deleted from security camera footage, it’ll be known for something else.

I walk in with my hand placed on Zuza’s lower back and scan the room. The concierge assesses us in a single efficient motion before deciding we belong. Security cameras are located at the four corners, and it’s likely two more are placed to cover the angles near the entrance.

Normal. Manageable.

The bar is to the right, through an archway framed in dark wood. We step through, and Zuza slows naturally; I fall into step beside her. We’ve done this enough times that the performance of coupledom requires almost no thought. My hand goes to her back briefly, gently rubbing the soft exposed skin, my little finger touching the grip of her concealed weapon.

She leans almost imperceptibly toward me. We look, to anyone watching, like people who have been sleeping next to each other for years.

“I’m always ready, baby,” she says.

“It’s one of the things I love about you, my dear.”

She snorts. “Awww, I knew you loved me. Just wait until you find out where I hid the rest.”