Page 17 of My Violent Valentine

It’s nine o’clock when we slip in the back entrance and take out the small group of staff. Quick quiet shots with silencers. I hate taking out staff. They’re innocent but we can’t have any heroes. Or witnesses. In an ideal situation, the target is the only one you kill. It’s nice, clean. Surgical precision. But outside of movies, it rarely works out like this.

Whatever powers took away my feelings, I wish they’d done just a slightly better job.

Nine is a bit late for a Valentine’s Day dinner, but they arranged the time so Clarissa could more easily get away from her people without detection.

“That’s everybody,” Brian whispers.

We drop our magazines and reload. Just the two lovebirds now. The food has already been delivered, and I smell the delicious scent of chicken primavera and garlic bread. I can’t tell if the smells are just the leftover smells from the kitchen or if it’s coming from the entryway where everything is set up.

“What the fuck?” Brian whispers.

“What?” I whisper back as we move together down the hallway toward our targets.

“That music.”

“I still don’t know what you’re asking.” Classical music drifts down the hall to our ears.

“That is live music, Mina. Not a recording. How did I miss that he hired a string quartet?”

Shit. More innocents.

“Brian, no,” I say.

“We have to.”

The quartet starts to play what I recognize as Shostakovich, but I have no idea the name of the song. They're all numbers and letters. I don’t know why composers couldn’t bother to give their music real names people could remember.

We get within view, and I see Clarissa and Cole at the table. The roses Brian bought are in the center of the table over a white linen tablecloth with drippy candles in crystal holders. There’s a fire in the fireplace, and then the string quartet set up nearby.

“We’re going to go in quick. I’ll take out the two in the back, you take out the two in the front.”

“Brian…”

“Don’t think, Mina, just do it. We’re already too deep in for this.”

“No, wait. If we shoot the quartet first... Cole might be armed. They’re probably both armed. We need guns on Cole and Clarissa first.”

Brian sighs. “You’re probably right. But we don’t leave loose ends. Agreed?”

“Agreed. But… don’t shoot anybody immediately.”

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t, okay?”

We slip quietly into the room. I stand behind Cole. Brian is behind Clarissa. Our guns are cocked.

Cole makes a move which I’m sure is for a gun.

“Hands on the table where we can see them. Both of you,” Brian says.

The two obey.

“We’ll give you whatever you want,” Clarissa says her voice wavering.

“Are you going to give us one and a half million dollars? Because that’s the combined price on your heads,” Brian says. “Your people are not exactly thrilled with the way you’re running your respective criminal enterprises.”

“I’m sorry, do you mind?” I ask Clarissa. I lean over and pull her plate toward me and take a big bite of the chicken primavera. “Oh. My. God. This is delicious. I would ask the cook for the recipe but we sadly already killed him.”

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