The Cafe.
The next morning, Hunter met Perkins at a street-side cafe.
It had been over two weeks since he last saw her. Back then, she was a prisoner—bruised, desperate, and pleading for her life.
Today, she was a vision.
Standing at nearly six feet tall, Perkins had the body of a runway model and the cold, striking features to match. Her eyes—a piercing blue-green—were currently scanning the cafe like radar.
Hunter watched as she dismissed two hopeful businessmen with a single, withering glare. They slunk away like scolded dogs.
But the moment she saw Hunter, her icy mask melted instantly, replaced by a smile so saccharine it could cause cavities.
"Hi, little—"
"If you want me to bend you over right here on this table, keep calling me weird nicknames."
Hunter cut her off, sitting down opposite her. His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp.
Perkins froze mid-sentence. She blinked, then laughed—a soft, dangerous sound.
"My, aren't we aggressive today," she purred.
Hunter studied her. She was undeniably attractive. Even with his high standards, he felt a stir of attraction. But there was something unsettling about her. When she smiled, her eyes remained cold. Like a viper sizing up a mouse.
"Put away the fox smile," Hunter said flatly. "Every time you grin like that, I feel like you're plotting something. Just tell me what you want. What's the job? And what's the pay?"
He flagged down a waiter, handed him a twenty, and dismissed him without ordering. He didn't like coffee. He preferred lemon soda, but right now, he preferred answers.
He had done his homework on Perkins.
After the sniper job, Cole had been generous. He bumped Hunter to Rank C- and offered him a favor: one question answered, off the record.
Hunter had asked about Perkins.
Cole's assessment was brutal: Ms. Perkins is talented but short-sighted. She joined the New York branch three months before you. She has a habit of converting all her Continental Coins into cash on the black market to fund a lavish lifestyle. A mercenary in the truest sense.
A woman who sold her access to the underworld for designer handbags was dangerous. She had no loyalty, only a price tag.
So Hunter was curious. If she was broke, what could she possibly offer him?
Perkins noticed his indifference. It annoyed her. She was used to men fawning over her. The two suits she had rejected were currently glaring daggers at Hunter's back, jealous that he was sitting with the goddess.
"You're a difficult man to please," Perkins sighed, leaning forward. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I took a private contract. Off the books. Not Continental business."
"The target is... tricky. I can't handle it alone. I need a partner. Someone with your... specific skillset."
Hunter raised an eyebrow. He remained silent, waiting.
He wasn't a charity. She had introduced him to the Continental to save her own skin. They were even. If she wanted his help now, she had to pay.
Perkins read his silence perfectly.
She smiled again, this time with genuine amusement.
"I don't have any Continental Coins," she admitted. "And I'm a little liquid-shy at the moment."
"But," she murmured, "I have something else you might like."
Hunter frowned. "So, the pay is?"
Under the table, a foot slid up his calf.
It moved slowly, teasingly, heading north.
Hunter instinctively shifted his leg to avoid a potential strike to the groin, but the foot followed, gentle and insistent.
He looked at her.
"Me," Perkins whispered.
She licked her lips, her confidence absolute.
She knew men. She knew Hunter. She had tried to kill him three times and failed. He had captured her twice. And in those encounters, she had learned that while he was dangerous, he wasn't a monk.
If money was off the table, she would use her other asset.
And frankly? He was handsome. It wasn't exactly a hardship for her.
Hunter felt her toes brush higher.
He didn't pull away this time.
He looked at the deadly, beautiful woman across from him. A mercenary who would sell her soul for cash, offering her body for a favor.
He grabbed her ankle under the table, stopping her progress but not pushing her away.
"I'll take a down payment first," Hunter said, his voice low.
Perkins' smile widened into a triumphant grin.
"Deal."
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