Page 3 of Black Widow

JAMES

James sat with his back to Widow and the urge to turn around and look at her bordered on painful. But Cami had eyes on her, and that was good enough for now.

“She drinks black coffee, likes crossword puzzles, and is friendly to the server when she approaches her. Widow looks like a regular, boring citizen,” Cami remarked dryly.

James nodded as he took a mouthful of his own black coffee. “Is she doing a crossword puzzle now?”

Cami didn’t need to look her way. “She is. I can’t see the details, but I can make out the shape of the grid.”

“What is she eating?” he asked, wishing he could walk up to her table, take a seat, and pull a weapon on her. It could be over so quickly, but not in the Plaza and not before he knew what she wanted because there was a very good chance she wasn’t here on her own accord. If someone had ordered a hit on him—or anyone connected with the CIA—James needed to know. Until he had that information, he needed to play her game: killing her targets with the stealth of a snake.

“Croissant with jam and whipped cream... it looks delicious. I need to order one,” Cami said, her eyes roaming the restaurant for a server. “She’s smaller than I thought.”

James shrugged. “As you well know, size doesn’t matter... she can kill better than anyone I know and she hits every target.” If James hadn’t been so impressed by her skillset, he’d have been terrified. Over the five years he’d tracked her, she’d made twenty-two high-profile kills and probably double that many that James knew nothing about. And she didn’t stick to one method. She had extensive knowledge of poisons and knife skills that impressed even James. Black Widow was always evolving and her time in hiding would’ve been spent working on her skills, evolving her craft. Black Widow would be deadlier than ever so he needed to turn the tables and disrupt her plans.

He put his coffee down and stood.

“What are you doing?” Cami asked quickly under her breath.

“I’m going to beat her at her own game,” he said.

“James!” Cami said in a hushed voice as he walked toward Black Widow.

He didn’t have a plan but he needed more intel than Cami could provide from a table across the room.

When James was close enough to her table, but not too close, he knocked a napkin off the table. “I’m so sorry,” James said quietly with apologetic eyes to the couple at the table he’d just disturbed.

He bent down to pick it up, depositing Samuel’s favorite toy on the ground before picking up the tea cup. “Samuel, Bertie is down. Activate,” James said under his breath and watched as the bug-sized robot began to move.

“Copy.”

Confident Bertie—Samuel’s name of choice—could move unseen, he stood, turning to the couple sitting at the table. “Again, apologies. I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll give this to the server.”

The couple smiled warmly. “That’s okay, dear,” the lady said.

James almost turned around to make sure she was talking to him and that Black Widow hadn’t snuck up behind him. It had been a long time since James had been calleddear, in fact he didn’t think he ever had been.

“You have a lovely day. Enjoy your breakfast,” he said, his eyes dropping to the croissant loaded with jam and cream. “I have it on good recommendation they are delicious.” He gestured toward the croissant before his eyes darted to Black Widow’s table. Her black hair was cut in a sharp bob that sat just above her shoulders. From the intel they’d been able to glean, she had never been married. She’d been named Black Widow because she only killed men. Neither the CIA nor Samuel had ever linked her to a female victim. James didn’t know if she had a special hate for men, or if it was simply because her targets were almost always people who held powerful positions, and more men than women hold those positions.

“Ah, this is interesting,”Samuel’s voice came through his earpiece as he moved towards the washrooms.“She’s not doing a crossword puzzle, she’s writing names in the grid.”

“Let me guess, mine is there,” James said, entering the hallway, bringing his phone to his ear to make it look like he was having a conversation and not just talking to himself.

“Yes, along with three others. One of them we know, or at least I do,”Samuel said.

“Who?” James asked, frowning.

“Lachlan Taylor,”Samuel said.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “Was he assigned to her when he was CIA?”

“That’s the strangest thing, I can’t see any link between them—other than they were both assassins.”

James chewed on his cheek. “Call him. Tell him to come and see me. Tell him it’s not optional.”

Samuel groaned softly.“I’ll try... Oh, and Bertie is going for a ride in her handbag but she’ll likely find him and kill him soon.”

James nodded, his thoughts on the list.