Killer by Francine Pascal

a man. If Ella didn’t know any better, she might have thought this guy was actually a twelve-year-old boy. Strange . . . she had been here once in the past, many years ago, but she’d never actually seen Mr. Xi.
    â€œUh . . . thank you for agreeing to see me,” Ella murmured, holding her shopping bag protectively in her lap.
    â€œI recognize you,” Mr. Xi stated. His voice was throaty and disturbing, especially coming from someone his size. “I know who you are.”
    Ella nodded, fighting to ignore the twinge of fear that shot down her spine. Thisman could be on the phone with Loki in an instant—and there would be nothing she could do to stop him. She figured it was best to just shut up.
    â€œYou would like to employ my services,” he said. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact. There was an edge of undeniable authority in his tone. Much like Loki himself.
    â€œYes,” Ella whispered.
Why the hell else would I be here, you
—
    â€œSpeak up, woman!”
    â€œYes,” she repeated, wincing. “I would.”
    â€œMy services will cost you one hundred fifty thousand dollars,” he announced.
    Ella knew that this would be the amount. Still, hearing it didn’t fill her with joy. With numbed fingers she pulled a shoe box out of her shopping bag. She removed the lid and stared down at the crisp blocks of cash—taken out from the Bank of Liberia on Tenth Street less than an hour ago. The transfer had been a success. And now . . . well, it seemed such a shame to be spending half of the money she stole so soon after she had stolen it. But she was resolved to do this. She slid the box across the table.
    Mr. Xi didn’t touch the money. He barely looked at it. Instead he snapped his fingers. One of the bodyguards rushed out to the table and hurriedly counted the bills. Then he nodded toward Mr. Xi and retreated back behind the screen.
    â€œWhose life are you buying?” Mr. Xi demanded.
    The directness of the question caught Ella off guard. There really
was
no turning back. They were coconspirators now, talking plainly about a murder.
    â€œHer . . . her name is Gaia—Gaia Moore,” Ella stammered.
    â€œWhat is her relationship to you?”
    Ella hesitated. “She’s . . . uh, my foster daughter,” she murmured, looking down at the table. For some reason, saying the words out loud made her feelashamed. But why should they? Gaia Moore had destroyed her life.
    â€œI’ll need a picture,” the shadow said.
    â€œOf course.” Ella reached back into the Barney’s bag and pulled out a manila envelope, then slid it across the table. Mr. Xi stepped forward and removed the snapshot. He stared at it for several uncomfortable moments. Ella shifted in her seat. For a second she even waited for him to gush about how beautiful Gaia looked—like every other nauseating person on earth did. But thankfully, he didn’t say a word about it.
    He tossed the photo back on the table. “How do you want to end this girl’s life?” he asked.
    She shrugged. “I don’t care. Just as long as it happens soon. She’s a martial arts expert, though. She could be a little hard to get to.”
    Mr. Xi laughed. “That won’t be a problem. But you are certain that this is what you want?”
    Ella didn’t allow a moment’s hesitation. “Yes. Absolutely.”
    â€œYou are certain?” he repeated.
    Didn’t I just say I wanted to do it?
Ella wondered, scowling. “I want her dead,” she growled. “Is that enough to convince you?”
    â€œThere’s no need for rudeness,” he answered calmly. “I will take your contract. You may go now.”
    Ella didn’t move. Did he think she was some sort of idiot? She blinked hard in the spotlight. “How do I know you’re actually going to go through with it?” she asked. “I mean, how do I know that