Indefinite

one.

I needed to hurry.

Rule Number One: Don't stay in one place too long.

I carefully rifled through my 'purse,' making sure everything was in it.

Phone? Check. Keys? Check. Gun? Check. List? Check. Knives? Check. Lockpicks? Check. Makeup? Check.

Rule Number Two: Be prepared. For anything.

I grabbed my wallet, stuffing it in my purse before eyeing my tazer. You can never be too careful in my line of business. I smiled as I stuffed it in my purse as well.

I quickly slipped on my leather jacket, slinging my purse over my shoulder before grabbing my hotel keycard off the desk and stuffing it in my pocket. I glanced around the empty room, my duffel bag sitting on the small, beat up desk, and my small suitcase sitting on the bed.

Rule Number Three: Be prepared to execute rule number one.

I zipped up my duffel bag, and grabbed my suitcase, setting them by the door. I opened the hotel door, locking it behind me, before putting the keycard into my purse and exchanged it for my car keys.

Rule Number Four: Stay inconspicuous. Or, if you can, out of sight entirely.

I got into the old rusty car I had hotwired from a junkyard a few towns back. After a few attempts, the engine finally roared to life. Checking my watch, I knew the night was still young, and it was going to be a long one.

I snaked my way out of the small hotel parking lot, before heading downtown.

Rule Number Five: Know your target.

As I pulled up to a stoplight, I pulled my list out of my purse, glancing at the name and photo I was given. Alexander looked nice, but he must have done something horrible to make it onto my list.

I double checked the address, making sure I was going to the right place, before pulling into a parking space in front of the little bar. I did a quick survey of the area.

Rule Number Six: Have an escape plan.

The bar itself was rather small, but the block was also covered in little shops and restaurants. Luckily, most of them were closed at this time of night. The bar seemed to have two doors in view, and I could clearly see the security camera right outside the main entrance.

I forced myself out of my car, grabbing my purse, and finally going inside. The interior was smaller than I expected, causing me to panic slightly. I reevaluated the area, taking a mental note of how many booths were on my left near the wall, how many tables were in the center of the room, how many stools were at the bar, and how many people were in the room.

Rule Number Seven: Always have a plan B.

The place was barren, counting three people in the bar, not including my target, the two bored looking staff members, and I.

Rule Number Eight: The less number of witnesses, the better.

I slid my coat off before sliding onto a barstool next to my target. I tossed my coat and purse onto the seat next to me before ordering a drink. He was an average size, not super muscular, and was shorter than I had imagined. This was going to be easy.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a car slowly drive by the front windows, before speeding off. My breathing quickened, and my eyes widened. He couldn't have found me. Not yet. I had just gotten into town this afternoon. I lost him in New York two weeks ago, and I knew I had a few more days before going back under the radar.

"That's just Sam, the owner of this place." My target said, not taking his eyes off of his shot glass. "He's too lazy to come in himself, but he likes to take numbers every few hours."

I visibly relaxed, and nearly sighed out loud in relief. I gave him a small smile before taking a sip of my drink. "Oh. I thought it was someone I knew."

"Hiding from someone?" He chuckled, finally looking at me.

"Just my ex." I stated, downing the rest of my drink and slamming the drink on the table. It's not my fault if he thinks I'm running from my ex-boyfriend and not my ex-best friend.

"That sucks. I'm assuming the overprotective type?" He waved the bartender over to fill my drink back up.

"Something like that." I nodded, before holding my hand out. "I'm Eden, by the way."

"Alexander." He told me. Too bad I already knew. He seemed nice.

"What brings you here then?" I asked, turning more toward him.

Rule Number Nine: Build relationships, even short ones, based off of trust.

"Habbit I guess." He finished off his drink before getting another. "Used to come here with some friends."

"Why did they stop? You seem like great company." I internally groaned at my choice of words, but gave him a small smile before looking down at my drink.

I would bet you money that the reason he is on my list is because of why he's not here with his friends.

"There was an.. Accident." He paused, a range of emotions flashed across his face, ranging from guilt, greif, and pain. Jackpot.

Rule Number Ten: Learn to read people, and do it quickly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." I made my voice sound almost panicked.

"It's fine. It was a long time ago." He became focused on his drink again, the glass nearly empty.

"If it makes you feel better, I was in a car accident a few years back. Killed the other driver." I lied, rolling up my sleeve to show one of my scarred arms, which were not given to me in a car accident.

Rule Number Eleven: Learn how to lie. And do it well.

His eyes widened as he saw the jagged lines running vertically down my shoulder. I quickly rolled my sleeves back down before he got a good look at them and realized they were not from shrapnel.

"How do you deal with the guilt?" He asked quietly, his voice soft and raw with emotion.

"I have a few hobbies that get me through the day." I gave him a smile before finishing the rest of my drink. Justice and alcohol were my two favorite past times.