The Seaside Hotel. Italian Restaurant.
Jane sat across from Hunter, wearing a little black dress that clung to her like a second skin. She swirled her wine, her smile sweet, but her internal monologue was venomous.
This guy is too obvious.
Men are such simple creatures. He chose a restaurant inside a hotel. How subtle.
He wants to get me into bed so badly he can't even hide it.
She watched Hunter eat. He was charming, attentive, and undeniably attractive. Earlier, during the surfing lesson, she had "accidentally" fallen into the water twice to test him.
The first time, she brushed against him to gauge his reaction time. He dodged instantly.
The second time, she grabbed him, her hands checking his... assets.
Impressive, she admitted to herself. Larger than my husband's. Significantly.
It was a pity she had to kill him.
"Jane?"
Hunter's voice snapped her back to reality. She realized she had been staring.
"Sorry," Jane smiled apologetically. "Just thinking about work."
"Don't worry about work tonight," Hunter said smoothly. "Tonight is about pleasure."
He paid the bill. The meal—tiny portions of lasagna, risotto, and salad—had barely touched the sides for him. He was starving. But he had bigger fish to fry.
"Beautiful Jane," Hunter said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, right next to her wedding ring. "I believe fate brought us together. Would you do me the honor of spending an unforgettable night with me?"
Jane looked at him, her chin resting on her hand. She had heard every pickup line in the book. As an assassin, she had played every role: the escort, the damsel, the drunk party girl. She had given plenty of targets a "final kiss" before ending them.
She extended her hand, accepting the invitation.
Enjoy it while you can, handsome, she thought. It'll be your last night on Earth.
Hotel Room 1104.
Hunter led her into the suite and locked the door.
Immediately, his hands were on her waist, pulling her close. His touch was bold, aggressive.
"Wait," Jane laughed, pushing his chest lightly. "What's the rush? Why don't you take a shower first?"
Hunter grinned, playing the part of the eager lover perfectly. "Together?"
"You first," Jane purred, tapping his nose. "I like a man who smells fresh."
"Alright, alright," Hunter nodded, turning toward the bathroom.
As soon as his back was turned, Jane's smile vanished.
Her hand dropped to her thigh. Through the slit in her dress, her fingers brushed the cold steel of her suppressed pistol strapped to her leg.
Her instincts screamed at her again. Don't do it. Danger.
But her pride was stronger. She was Jane Smith. She didn't fail contracts.
She gripped the handle.
Sorry, handsome.
She drew the weapon in a blur of motion, leveling it at Hunter's back.
But Hunter didn't need eyes in the back of his head. His Danger Sense shrieked.
He spun around.
A spinning back kick, executed with 3x Human Speed, whipped through the air.
WHAM!
His heel connected with Jane's wrist just as she pulled the trigger.
The gun flew from her hand, skittering across the carpet. Jane cried out, stumbling back, clutching her numb arm. It felt like she had been hit by a sledgehammer.
Hunter stood there, his relaxed demeanor gone. His eyes were cold, calculating, and mocking.
"Finally," Hunter said, his voice dropping to a menacing baritone. "I was wondering when you'd make your move. I thought I'd have to keep acting all night."
Jane stared at him, shock and realization dawning on her face.
He hadn't been seduced. He hadn't been tricked.
He had been waiting for her to draw.
"Who are you?" Jane hissed, falling into a combat stance.
Hunter smirked, loosening his tie.
"I'm the guy who's about to ruin your perfect record, Mrs. Smith."
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