Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,53

that, but…” She shrugged. “I also don’t like that you found me.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” She glanced at her own phone. “I’ve got an Uber picking me up at the corner in five minutes. It’s time for me to get out of here.”

“I’ll unlock the doors,” August said, and went into his bedroom to grab his keys. Heidi grabbed her bag and followed him up the stairs, back into the piss-scented main level of the house. “Good luck,” he said brightly to her. “Try to stay alive, or Ricky will be mad.”

“Keep him alive, or I’ll be mad.” She pointed her finger at him but didn’t quite touch his chest with it. “He’s my best client by far, and he’s been Rate Your Hit’s most consistent and highest rated killer for half a decade. You and Victor have your fair share of the market, but Torralba is something special, and I want him around for a long time to come. Got it?”

He’s not that fucking special, tried to come out of August’s mouth. He won’t be on top forever, and you should diversify your portfolio, that’s just basic economics wouldn’t come out either. Fuck his fucking mouth and its inability to do what he goddamn wanted it to.

“Got it,” was what he went with in the end.

And if there was a part of him that kind of, maybe, just a little bit agreed with her…well.

Nobody needed to know about that. Especially not Ricardo.

It made more sense to go after Bubba during the light of day than waiting for evening, August had argued once Heidi was gone. The man might be on the dim side, but if he got a mysterious message after the sun set from the person he’d done a job for asking him to go to a nearby parking garage, even he might consider taking backup. “Not that we can’t handle backup, but why make more work for ourselves?”

“Fine.”

“And the garage is attached to an abandoned hotel from back when that part of the city was supposedly primed to gentrify—there won’t be a lot of civilians around to make noise, and even if there are, they probably aren’t the type to call the cops when they see something suspicious, not to mention the garage itself would make a decent sniper perch for whoever of us is on backup.”

“True.”

“And—” August had stopped, feeling his forehead wrinkle as it sank in that Ricardo was actually agreeing with him. “Wait, what? Really?”

“Yes.” Ricardo had stopped in the middle of putting the last dish away and stared at him, one eyebrow raised. “What, did you expect me to put up with your nonstop noise if you weren’t saying something worthwhile?”

“I don’t know…” August mused. “Does the alternative to listening to me involve tying me up? Do you know any sexy knots?”

“The alternative would involve me stuffing a sock in your mouth and leaving you duct-taped to the inside of your closet while I took care of Bubba myself,” Ricardo said, and then a second later asked, “What the hell kind of knot is sexy?”

“A slippery hitch,” August replied instantly. “A sheet bend. A double overhand.” He grinned at Ricardo. “Any of these sound familiar? Or are you more of a good, old fashioned square knot kind of guy?”

Ricardo threw a dishtowel at August’s face. “Get ready to go.”

“Sir, yes sir.”

Two hours later, the bar was just opening and Ricardo was prepping his perch—because, fine, he was a better shot than August and August knew it. “I don’t like doing this without a spotter,” he grumbled as August typed a message for Bubba into his phone. “But it’s less than a thousand meters, so I can probably avoid hitting you by accident.”

“Ha ha, so funny.” Ready to fix your mistake? I have the new location of your target. Remember—no kill, no cash. He showed it to Ricardo. “He’s got to be motivated to find Heidi and finish the job, right?”

“It’ll probably work,” Ricardo agreed, glancing at the message and then going back to setting up his gun. The way he was caressing it should be illegal. “And if it doesn’t, then we go with Plan B.”

“It’s almost enough to convince me to screw up on purpose,” August mused.

“I really will shoot you if you do that.”

“Promises, promises.” He sent the message and settled in to wait, not bothering to lean against a wall—not in these clothes. They might not be a suit, but he had a stash of his own older things stored in the meth