Spilled Information

"No, he didn't, but I'll be sure to ask him the next time I meet him." I deadpanned.

"This is not a joke. It's not hilarious! You have never gotten obsessed with anything-"

"I was always obsessed with Anthony," I cut him off to correct him. "That is the exact reason why I never got obsessed with anyone else. He's my life's mission; I have to end him. Don't you get it?" I was getting more irritated with the passing minutes. My eyes though stayed on the door more often than not.

"I've never been comfortable with someone I was working on," he said it like it was the most natural thing to do.

"That is where the difference in the two of us lies, you are a hit-man. I, on the other hand, am an undercover agent. I need to slither closer into people's minds and under their skin to get my job done."

"You're stupid if you think that getting involved is a good thing," he groaned as he stared right at my eyes.

"I have never gotten involved. This is the only one. This will be the first and last time I'll ever get involved. This is way too personal to rush through. I'll relish every tormenting moment of this job. I'll work on him and with him. Do you get me?"

"No, I don't." My eyes flickered to the door again.

"I thought we'd meet under better circumstances," I admitted.

"Which reminds me, why are you even here?" he asked wearily.

"Some inside business that we need to do." I left it at that. "What are you doing here?" I got to the sole purpose of this conversation.

"Someone put a hit on the pimp. I've got a few more hours until I need to carry it out."

"Joe?" I whisper, shocked. "Who put a hit on him?" I didn't know which emotion I should embrace, the panic or the excitement.

"Luke fucking Darcy," he said, running his hand over his face. The shock didn't let me register the full truth of the matter. I was just about to ask when he started speaking again. "Its one of those conditional hits. Someone will call me in three hours to let me know if I have to get the job done or not. I don't know what the fuck is going on."

"What does that mean?"

"This pimp has been putting his hand in the wrong jar, or he made the wrong allies. I don't know the details, but this dude has something that Luke wants, I think." My eyes narrowed on his face, but I saw that he was telling the truth.

"Get inside," I ordered him. "I need to think this through. This is huge." I swore under my breath as I saw him turn around and walk away. Just as he was about to pull the door opened, the thing opened on its own. My body instinctively turned around and snapped the cell-phone I had been gripping in my hand to my ears. I heard the light shuffling of feet and mumbled greetings. I pulled the phone from my ears and pretended to stare at the screen for a moment as if checking the screen.

"Mia," I heard him say. I was pretty sure that he hadn't seen anything, but I had to be sure.

I turned around slowly with a smile on my lips. It came effortlessly, and I felt more confident than I had hoped to feel.

"Hey," I sighed as if exhausted. "I was just on the phone." He nodded, and I speculated his expression and figured that he'd not heard or seen anything suspicious.

"I've got some info on what happened that day in the bar." I scrunched my brow. "There were some regulars who were gossiping about Joe's old girl who had appeared at the pub a few days back. I figured it was Cienna."

"And?" I pressed for more information.

"Let's go back inside the car and talk about this." I nodded and we got inside the car. "She came here in search of the girl's mom and Joe caught up to her. Things got heated and he took her to the washroom that you said was always preoccupied." He gave me a meaningful look. I tried to hold back a groan.

"You think she spilt information?" I asked, pretty damn sure that she had done just that.

"No. He got her intoxicated. I'm sure she didn't even know what she was saying by the time he was done with her."

"She still opened her mouth, Anthony." I ran my hand through my hair and wondered out loud, "Why don't you make every member of the group at least be able to work their brains when under pressure?" The frustration got the better of me. "I mean... even one vulnerable person is dangerous!" He stared at me like I had lost my mind.

"I would expect that anyone who wilfully works for me would know the odds of their employment and act on their sense of self-preservation. One can expect that much from humans, I suppose," he shrugs, not fazed by the admission. The fact that he left a base uncovered is... unacceptable.

"You can't know that."

"I can. They are all affluent in martial arts and know what they are doing. I interview every person myself or make Ethan do it for me. If you hadn't barged into my office that first day, it might have been Ethan who would've asked you to prove your skills to him." I stared at him for a moment disgruntled by the idea that he had not done the unacceptable. And therein he had reinforced my obsession with his meticulous processing of plans.

"Cienna?" I grumbled, trying to find a weak spot.

"She's a fool. She doesn't have the presence of mind that I thought she did. She's awfully stupid for someone who claims to take on the top businessmen in the nation," he grunted.

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