Honey Trap

Chapter One: Honey Pot

Target: Cody Keller
Age: 46
Race: Caucasian
Gender: Male
Occupation: Manager in Wyatt's Auto Store.
Criminal Record: N/A

I read the file for the fifth time that day, looking over the pictures and taking in a mental notes that can help me through the night. The file was thin, nothing much I can work with other than fact the guy was a lonely and lived in a one bedroom apartment with no one but his cat and a freezer full of TV dinners.

I snapped the file closed and tossed it across the table to only have it from sliding off the table by two long fingers. "What did he do?" I asked while placing a thick Cuban cigar in between my lips, thanks to the last guy I met not too long ago. The smoke filled the air and my lungs, the taste of the rich tobacco was familiar and missed as I kept myself from moaning in satisfaction.

"Does it matter?" The voice was cold, just like his blue eyes that stared deep into my soul. Another loan shark that didn't want to get his hands dirty and didn't trust his men to do the job without screwing up. He wasn't the boss, more like the right hand that does the deals and takes the fall.

I eyed him closely, taking in the expensive suit and tie, the freshly shaven face and the scar along his cheek- a month or so old. "When?"

"As soon as possible, the boss wants to set an example for the others."

I nod my head in understanding because his boss wasn't the only one that wanted to set an example. "I need half by today, give me the other half when the job is done," my demand was the usual, give me half the money before for reassurance and half the money after for my proof that the jobs been done. "I'll send a picture to your boss."

The man, I dare not to know his name- knowing there names weren't apart of the job and sometimes it can end in a world of trouble- he still looked into my soul. I bet he wasn't pleased in hiring a woman to do his dirty work, a lot of men weren't pleased by me- at least until I send them the evidence, then they back off and recommend me go other jobs. I hold a wide range of work, from sending someone a message to killing the message- there's nothing I can't do, other than go on a high speed chase; I wasn't as good at that. "He's going to be at the bar with a few friends tonight, you can use that to your advantage."

I knew what he meant, a drunk man at the bar looking to get his dick wet, sees me and we go home together- they'd how a person can get caught. There's too many witnesses at the bar, even though they're all drunk, they still have goo memories. "I'll see what I can do." I also knew he was trying to know my plan, on how I do things that ended with me not getting caught or seen. A girl never tells.

I finished my cigar by dapping it on the wooden table until the light were out. I put the savoring tobacco inside my jacket before standing to my feet, "Transfer the money in another two hours, tonight you get your proof." Unlike anyone else, I give the person enough time to get their affairs in order, a large sum of money was hard to come nowadays; two hours plus the ten minutes when having this meeting, was enough.

I dismissed myself through the double doors, the smell of Chinese food filled my nose as I passed the kitchen. I never understand why loan sharks always conduct their business in a restaurant that didn't match their ethnicity, just looking at it from the outside just knew something was sketchy. While walking towards the front, I spotted their boss sitting at one of the booths with two bodyguards standing on each side- the whole Italian mob thing. The boss was old, of course, with a thin mustache just below his lip and cane in between his legs. It always amuse me that their choice of expressing themselves were always the same, like any other mob, cartel, or Japanese gang; it's all too obvious.