I didn't even remember buying the stupid rose for her. Maybe my body was just so used to it that it didn't need my brain telling it what to do on Valentine's day. She must be thinking that I still care about her. Still think about her. It'll probably drive her nuts. Wondering how I got it to her doorstep with all her security. Why I got it for her in the first place. To be honest I was back in the cab before I realised what I was doing. It was as natural as having a drink after a run for me. I could have gotten a rose for her new partner. No for her new wife. Scare them both a bit. Should have done that. It would have been funny. Too late now. She would have seen right through it anyway. That's not how I work, never has been. She could always see me like that. She just knew me. Like I knew her. Even at our worst. When we were bitter rivals and lovers at the same time. We knew each other and our limitations.
As I sat in the taxi with my gun pointed directly at the drivers nuts, I realised that I knew exactly why I had sent the flower to her. To Rose. Every year. A rose for my Rose. Cheesy crap like that. I wanted, no needed her to remember that I knew where she was. That I was still someone to fear. That I was still in her life. Regardless of her new life, home, job. She would always be a killer to me.
When I got home and found a bouquet of lilies by the door I could do nothing but smirk. She had never needed reminding. She knew what she was and she was not afraid of it.
