Now, tonight, the time has finally come.
I flip the visor down and check my face in the mirror. My hair is good to go. Lipstick, too. The bruise that Raymond left along my left cheekbone is hidden under two thick layers of concealer and setting powder. You’d never know it was there unless you knew where to look.
I snap the visor back up. “Okay, Cass,” I say to myself. “You can do this. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a bar full of Russian criminals, asking them to commit a felony. What’s the big deal?”
I grab my bag and get out of the car.
The thing is, I wasn’t supposed to need help. Three days ago, I had it all ready to go. Raymond’s allergy medication was swapped out for the cyanide pills I’d purchased with Bitcoin off the Dark Web. It was a simple plan. Clean and un-f**k-u
