45

An hour past sunset and it was still hotter than snot, but at least there was a decent little breeze. Perfect for her intentions this evening.

Sophie pulled the pack of matches from her homemade attack suit. It looked like a SWAT team Halloween costume with its black cargo pants and a long-sleeved black shirt with vented underarms to keep her cool. Or at least as cool as one could be in Nevada in August.

She’d bought a tactical vest on eBay and altered it so it fit like a second skin. The pockets and straps held all the tools she would need for this mission. As if there would be another one like this. This was the night.

Butterflies danced in her stomach as she struck a match. The thing cost her less than a penny and it would kick off the rest of her life. She fanned the little flames of her diversion, a paper grocery bag packed with dried twigs, leaves, and some thicker sticks she’d brought from the mountains. In seconds she had a nice little flame burning under a propane tank. These silly people had left that tank a little too close to the house. Accidents happen.

She backed off, heart pounding as she made her way through two backyards and settled behind a covered boat to wait for the fireworks. Her watch read 9:01.

She cleaned under her nails. Missed a bit of blood from the business with the homeless girl, Cat. She bit her lip and counted back. Number fifteen.

Her whole body shuddered with a tingle of pleasure as she remembered the rush of that struggle. That little thing fought harder than most of the men Sophie had X’ed out.

Seemed the drifter was far cleverer than Sophie had given her credit for. It was an actual fight. There’d been no drugs for her. She had to subdue the girl with a chokehold and split open her midsection instead of her throat. Messy. Very messy. The hotel room would never be the same. Oh well. She only needed it for a few more hours.

Sophie wiggled her toes inside the combat boots. They were a half size too big. Stupid tank should have blown by now. She stood and peeked over the back of the boat. The distant streetlight helped her make out a thin trail of smoke as it danced up the side of the house. No one would be alarmed by it. That house was empty. Neighbors on the far side were out as well. Everything was going her way. It wouldn’t be long.

She sucked in a deep breath as she sat cross-legged and closed her eyes, visualizing a perfect future with Danny. The mountain house was amazing. They would enjoy peaceful, sunset dinners on the deck overlooking the valley, chilled wine, and the scent of the little blue flowers out by the lake. The positive visualization made her smile.

The PI will be coming for you, stupid. You had to go and hire him.

“Shut up. That’s under control,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

What if he doesn’t care about that waitress?

“He’ll still try and save her. Him and the police.”

Your plan has holes in it.

“All plans have holes in them. Ever watched a movie? Of course you have. I suppose you’ve seen every movie I’ve ever seen.”

You will fail. Just like you have always failed.

Sophie opened her eyes. She had to eliminate that chattering. She wanted to be free of that voice forever. She should stop engaging, ignore it.

How stupid can you be? I am part of you. I know you, your thoughts, and I know your failures … all of them. So many of them.

Sophie closed her eyes again and imagined making a toast with Danny while laughing over some overly decadent dessert. He loved plums, so it would be something plum.

The voice started laughing.

Louder.

And louder.