Perfect Victim (Nadia Stafford 3.6)

"If you touch that wire--" I began.

"Oh, I'm going to do more than touch it. You think you're tough, don't you? Just like Sheila. Gotta wear the pants. Show up the men. Grind them to dust beneath your heel. Well, girlie, you know what's going to be dust here?" He smiled. "You."

He reached for the wire. His fingers started to close around it . . . and I put a bullet between his eyes.

As Victor fell, Howard hit the floor as if Victor had managed to grab that wire. But I'd been careful. I'd waited until I was completely sure he was about to do it. He never touched the wire, though, and the shot sent him toppling backward down the ladder.

The sirens screamed louder now, the police coming fast.

"Give me your gun," Howard said. "Quickly. I'll say it's mine. That I shot--"

"It's unregistered."

"Shit!"

I was about to tell him I'd handle this--I'd find some way, even if it meant just running before that cruiser arrived, but Howard jumped over the wire and tore down the ladder and put another bullet between Victor's eyes with his own gun.

"There," he said as I descended, "I did it. I shot him."

"You don't have to--"

"I had the damned gun in my hand, and I never even thought to shoot him." He turned to me. "Thank you."

"There wasn't any other way. That's what I'll tell the police when they get here. You had no choice. You saved us."

He managed a shaky smile. "I'd rather not play hero when I didn't earn it."

"You did. You talked him down. If it wasn't for those damned sirens . . ." I turned and followed the noise. "Are those getting quieter?"

Howard strode to the front of the house. I was right. Those cars weren't coming here. Their sirens were already receding into the distance. Howard cursed under his breath. And just then, an unmarked car pulled up, and two officers got out.

"I'd better call Detective Lee," he said, "and tell her we're going to need more officers."

"If you can stall those guys while I hide my gun, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure thing."

Chapter Twenty-two

Nadia

Itold the story as I'd promised. It wouldn't hold up under close scrutiny. A coroner could realize Victor had been shot twice in the same place, and that Howard's bullet was still in Victor's skull while another one made that exit wound. They might also find the hole in the wall where I'd retrieved my bullet.

But Howard was retired, meaning it wasn't a police shooting, and I suspected no one was going to go hunting for holes in our story . . . or holes in the wall. The bomb was there, and the position of Victor's body confirmed our version of events. Our statements matched. I only hoped it wouldn't cause any trouble for Howard when "Nancy Cooper"--the Michigan-based bodyguard who gave that statement--turned out to be a ghost.

I could have left before the police arrived. Jack certainly wished I had. But I wouldn't put Howard in that position. I'd hidden my gun, which Jack later retrieved. I hadn't touched anything in the house. I was wearing the same disguise I'd been using since I arrived, one that matched my Nancy passport. That passport and all other ID would be burned, literally, in Vancouver, and I'd fly home under a new name.

Leaving right away would look suspicious. Angela and Howard still had my number, and I wanted to wait a day or two, just to be sure all was well.

Cypher took us out to celebrate. To the beach, not surprisingly. It's Hawaii . . . There's a lot of beach. This time, we were on the patio of an old hotel, listening to live music, watching surfers and swimmers on Waikiki. I was having tea. A full-blown English-style afternoon tea. That was Cypher's celebration reward for me, and I didn't take umbrage at the suggestion that a female hitman needed a more "feminine" reward. It was very sweet and thoughtful, and I kinda loved putting on a sundress and a wide-brimmed hat and eating little sandwiches and sipping tea and feeling a million miles from the person who'd shot Victor Walling this afternoon.

Going into this, I didn't expect to actually pull a hit. I'd rather not have, to be honest. But under the circumstances, I was okay with it. Victor Walling had murdered his girlfriend and an innocent teenage girl, and he'd felt less guilt over their deaths than I would over his. He tried to blow up Howard, too, a guy who'd been willing to let him walk away, a guy who'd treated him with more respect than I could ever manage.

I wouldn't have pulled the trigger if Victor hadn't reached for that wire. But I'm not sorry I did.

"How did Angela take the news?" Cypher asked when I finally heard back from her.

"She's happy," I said. "She wants to see me in person to say so. Tonight, actually."