I can feel his gaze on me. The stolen diamond tucked away in my handbag, literally priceless, is why the Scarred Man is now after me. He's the most feared killer around, utterly professional, and even surrendering the diamond wouldn't spare me.
I'm in a motel room on the city outskirts, just a car ride away from an airstrip and freedom. My getaway's late though, I half-suspect already dead, and I'm starting to jump whenever someone passes my door. I drift to the window, carefully brush aside the curtains as the sound of a car coming to a halt reaches me. A man climbs out, I gulp in apprehension as he unfolds to an immense height, and I skitter back as he turns towards the motel.
My heart is racing as I try to get the face of the Scarred Man from my mind. I glance around the bare room, desperate to find something, anything. I snatch my handbag, run for the en-suite, as shadows appear at the base of my room door and I hear the splintering of wood as I scramble into the shower.
I'm sliding down the wall as footsteps get closer, my breasts heave as I try to stay quiet. My breath hitches as the Scarred Man enters the en-suite, his dead eyes watching me as he brings up his pistol. I stare up at him, along the length of his gun's barrel, and can only whimper as he tightens his grip on the pistol trigger…
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