Her Pov
I ran through the streets hoping I could get there in time. If I ruined this assignment I wouldn't get fired. I'd get murdered. Along with my family. I couldn't let that happen. I glanced behind me, gripping the platinum blonde wig to my head as I tried to zig zag through the crowd, making me much harder to hit. His lips pulled back in a sneer and I could tell he was getting frustrated. Twenty more steps. I ket looking. Why couldn't I place him. Why was he so familiar? Twelve more steps. The gun man glared down at me before deciding it was now or never. The sound was defaning, yet I hadn't even heard it till I noticed a man three inches from me was spewing blood from his neck. I smiled as I pushed inside the small convenience store. He had missed. Barely.
His Pov
"Damn it!" I yelled ripping the cap and fake mustache from my face. I had had her. I took the hit and if she had kept up with her padding she would be dead. But she fucked everything up. I dissembled my gun, glancing around the roof top making sure no one could see. I began to walk to the staircase door when my phone rang. It was Eddie. "Don't even fuckin' say a word." I breathed into the receiver.
"Get to the agency now."
"How pissed is he?"
Eddie chuckled, "You missed the biggest target we've had in the past seven years, you take a guess."
I let my gloved hand rest on the door. "I'll be there in ten."
"You've really fucked up, Z."
Her Pov
I let the water ripple down my cheeks, cleaning the man's blood off my face. I wanted to call my husband. I always felt like this during a mission but even I had to admit I hadn't never been that close before. I shook my head. Monica had told me not to go after Bardar. "He's too close to them." She had said. "They'll be after you the second he drops." All I had done was smugly reply, "They've been after me for years. Barnard won't change that much."
But I had been wrong. I sighed, shifting the wig back over the bald cap and began to leave the store. I still had to finish my job. I checked for the hit man before heading a cab to the Chi-Mai Message Parlor and Spa. After throwing a twenty at the driver I slipped into the parlor, conversing in fluent Cantonese to the owner, a kind old man with a cartoonish white beard. I picked up shifts for Tokiko Pei, one of his massagers, every now and then. Little did he know there was a dark reason for that.
Sliding off the damp bald cap and wig, I slicked my hair back in a classic up-do, poising an orange and yellow flower in the corner just above my ear and then just against my eyebrow and slipping into a thin kimono, waiting for my assignment to arrive.
Just tell me whether you see any potential or not, kay?
