Page 20 of Stalk

“So,” I say slowly. “Are you from here? Is your company based in the city?”

Ren stares me down. I soften my features and pray I look trustworthy or at leastfriendly.“Yes, I am from the city, and my company is based here.”

I try to think about if I know any companies in D.C.—or in America, for that matter—and come up with absolutely nothing. I know Papà made alliances with a handful of American companies back when he was alive, but I don’t know if Zìa has kept those alliances intact since she took over. I don’t see why she wouldn’t have, though.

“This is a stupid question,” I admit, “but, you’re absolutely certain you were assigned to Helena?” I whisper the question, cautious of who could be listening in on our conversation, despite being in a loud restaurant.

I know Ren was assigned to Helena, but I have to ask either way. Mix-ups like this simply don’t happen in our line of work. Or at least, they shouldn’t. Something is wrong here, and I want to find out what. But from what I know about Ren thus far, I’d wager he doesn’t have the slightest clue either.

“Yes,” Ren answers. “I am sure.”

“This does not make any sense,” I admit with a sigh. I take a long pull from my margarita and shake my head as I place it back down.

For the first time since we’ve met, it seems like Ren’s hackles finally fall back. He leans back in his chair and uncrosses his arms. “I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking that.” He pauses briefly, as though he’s considering if he should speak his next words aloud or not. “Why would an Italian…personin our line of work be assigned to come to another country for someone like Helena?”

I mull his words over. I hadn’t thought about it like that yet, and Ren makes a valid point. “All I can think of is that a member of her family is associated with us and put in the hit themselves, or one of her… dealers knew of us and decided to use our services instead of getting their own hands dirty.”

Ren bites down on his lower lip, deep in thought. When he releases his teeth from the flesh of his lip, I notice just howpink his mouth is. I shake my head and look away, weirded out. I don’t usually notice such things. Not unless I’m with an attractive woman, anyway.

“Then why would you be sent here for that when I’ve already been assigned the job?” Ren asks.

“Well, I am here for more than just tonight’s assignment.”

Ren finishes off his drink. I think he’ll stand up and take his leave, but he stays put. “I wonder if we have been assigned more than just one of the same targets?”

I shake my head.“Impossibile.Why would we be?”

“None of this makes any sense,” Ren says under his breath.

No shit.All of this contemplation hurts my brain and makes me more tired. Yet, thoughts race around in my mind, trying to figure out the answer to our predicament. Finally, I come to the conclusion that I won’t be able to figure this one out. Not tonight, anyway. I need to consult with Zìa.

I reach into the front pocket of my jeans and pull out my wallet. I can feel Ren’s eyes on me as I open it up and pull out what I call my faux business card. The card obviously does not have my name or any other identifying factors on it. Instead, it has the number to my burner phone. The card is glossy and black with no design. Just the number typed up in a small font in the middle of the card.

I slide the card across the table to Ren and tap it twice with my pointer finger. “I know you wish to leave. However, if you figure anything out, or if you think it will be beneficial for us to talk again, use this. I will be in the country for a couple weeks.”

Ren raises his brows as he stares at the card—like it’s plagued or something. “Why would we need to speak again? I’m sure after this that you will talk to your boss and I will consult with mine. I’m sure it’s just an error or a strange mix-up.”

I exhale roughly through my nose. “It may not be that simple. I am hoping it is, but you never know.”

Just take the damn card, Ren.

Ren glances up to me, then looks back down at the card. “Fine.” He picks it up and pockets it before standing. “Thanks for the drink. Have a nice stay, or whatever.”

With that, the strangest assassin I’ve ever crossed paths with walks away. I’m left there staring blankly at the empty chair across from me.

Well, at least he took the card.

CHAPTER 10

Ren

Two blocks away from the restaurant where I leftMattia,my body can’t stand the adrenaline any more. For the past two hours, I’ve been on high alert—and now that I’m alone, despite the busy streets buzzing alongside me—I’ve had all that I can take.

At the first opportunity I see, I duck into a dark alleyway. Thankfully, no one is around. It’s only me, the stench of a few trash cans nearby, and brick buildings. My back slams against the rough wall halfway down the alley, and before I know it, I’m sitting on the asphalt with my head in my hands. Before I can form a cohesive thought, I taste the margarita I practically just chugged at the back of my throat. With no time to act, I end up vomiting all over my favorite pair of work shoes.

Can this night getanyfucking worse?

Though I feel a little better now that I’ve puked, I reek. Sitting down near my feet just won’t cut it anymore. After a few weak attempts, I manage to stand up and lean against the brick at my back. As much as I’d love to go straight to Catherine and getthatwhole ordeal out of the way, I can’t move quite yet. My head feels thick and swollen, like I’ve been hit, but I know it’s just from all the stress from tonight.

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