“There’s still time for that.”
The man shakes his head. “Don’t bother with that.”
“I’m sure if you let me speak to the Persian, I can tell him about how important it would be to get her—”
“I said, don’t bother, Amos.” He fixes a sharp glare on me, lifting his spoon and using it to point at me. “The Persian stands by his contracts. And he stands by his plans as well.”
“What’s the new plan, then?”
Please don’t fucking kill me, I plead quietly. I have so much I want to do. I’ve never been one for praying, but Christ, if you’re listening, I just want to go somewhere nice.
“You’ll get the scraps when this is all over,” he states confidently with a grin. He pops the spoonful of yogurt into his mouth and sighs as if it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. As he scrapes the yogurt bowl, he adds, “But because you’ve failed, you’ll have a heavy price to pay.”
My shoulders relax visibly, though I do everything in my power to hide the motion from this man. He’s the eyes of the Persian, and he reports everything he sees. Noticing a crack in my facade would surely put me at a disadvantage, especially when I’m so close to the finish line.
All I have to do is last just a little bit longer. And maybe I can get that little bitch while I’m at it, too.
“I understand,” I reply. “What’s the price?”
“Don’t get so far ahead of yourself. Why don’t you order something for yourself?”
My face falls flat. “How kind of you to suggest.”
“You must be hungry, Amos. You can’t help topple an empire on an empty stomach, right?”
Not unless you’re still planning to shoot me. Jesus, what would I choose as my last meal? “I’m quite fine. Thank you. Full day ahead.”
“A very full day,” he says with a sigh as he reaches into his vest pocket. He plucks a card out of it, presses it to the table, and slides it over. “You have one more mission to complete, Amos.”
“And that is?”
He taps the card that hosts one name in typed print: Alexandra Moretti.
“Kill the Moretti girl,” he says. “That’ll be your final task.”
“And if I can’t do it?”
His smile reaches his eyes, sharpening his gaze. “Then, it will most certainly be your final task, Amos.”
While swiping the card from the table, I swallow the knot in my throat and stand up, holding the booklet to my chest as I bow my head. “Thank you for your time. Extend my thanks to the Persian as well.”
“He already knows.”
How much more cryptic can the fucker get without being creepy? I smile politely and say, “Right. Of course. How could I forget?”
“You’d do well not to, Amos.”
“Take care. See you soon.”
With a smug smile, the man returns to his food, handling each item delicately as though it’s the most precious thing in the world. To have that sort of attitude is something I crave, my tasks holding me back from achieving such comfort.
But I’ll have to suffer punishment, I reflect as I walk away with most of my dignity still intact. And with the Persian, there’s no telling what that might end up being. It could be worse than death.
Clutching the booklet to my chest, I march purposefully to the front lobby and pay the bill plus the tip. When I make it to the parking lot, my heart picks up a new rhythm, beating so hard that I think I might suffer cardiac arrest before I’m able to slide into my car.
As soon as I’m alone, I unfold my fingers, staring at the card with the name as dark as the eyes she hosts. That little girl has been a thorn in my side ever since I hooked up with Ophelia. She’s thwarted me at every turn, denying me what was rightfully mine whenever I tried collecting what was due to me.
Didn’t she know what I did for her family? What I did for her mother?