Every time my head rises from a restless sleep, two silent bullet holes stab the pillow. Every time. Seew-seew, and two thumps through the headboard. A few feathers and a whiff of sulfur is the time I have to react, then a henchman smashes through Venetian blinds, or a paper shoji.
My training chucks me to my feet, balanced to move in all directions, waiting for the shape in the shadows. He’s outfitted in black. Typical. My agency-issue armaments are long gone. Threw them out. I’ll have to disarm him, improvise for the.. Will this be five thousand? A milestone.
