"Is that him?" Brandenburg asked.

I nodded. Even in the dark, there was no mistaking Logan Anderson's hat--or
the smell of that dreadful pipe. I pulled the 9mm pistol from my waistband and
screwed the silencer in place.

I was about to step out from our hiding position when Brandenburg grabbed my
arm. "Someone's coming."

We waited in the shadows and watched the car approach Logan. It stopped
twenty feet away. A door slammed. A shadowy figure crossed in front of the
headlights.

"What are you doing here?" Logan sounded surprised.

"I want to watch you die," a female said.

It was Beverly Anderson. She thought her husband was having an affair and
wanted her dead, so she paid us $75,000 to kill him first. Brandenburg and I
rushed into the light. I leveled my pistol at Logan's chest.

The pipe fell from Logan's mouth and with a voice that shook, he asked,
"What's happening?"

"You're getting murdered," Beverly said. She seemed to be enjoying this
entirely too much.

"How much is she paying you?" Sweat formed like raindrops on Logan's
forehead. "There's a briefcase in my car...$500,000 in it. Kill her and it's yours."

Beverly gasped. "What are you doing with $500,000 cash?"

I nodded to Brandenburg and he checked the car. "It's all here." He carried
the briefcase to where I stood.

The smile that cracked Logan's face was wicked. "Honey, this is a man's game.
Played by men, won by men."

Beverly stepped toward me. "You took my money," she said, "you have to kill
him!"

"Mrs. Anderson, like I told you, when I accept money for a hit, the obit's as
good as written." I shot Logan twice in the chest. The wicked grin turned to
shock. He clawed at his chest. Blood oozed between his fingers. He sank slowly
to the ground. After a brief struggle, he lay dead.

I slowly turned the pistol on Beverly Anderson. Her eyes grew wide. "What are
you doing?"

"I also accepted his money."