Honey

target

Violet's POV

Jason Clement.

That was the name in the text sent to my flip phone at 5 AM sharp.

That's how I got my assignments, a text from the same number every few weeks or months. The longest I went without an assignment was 9 months. I didn't really know what to do with myself during that time.

One glance at the last name and I was familiar with it.

The Clements owned a multimillion-dollar jewelry franchise, so it would make sense why someone would want one of them dead.

I picked up my other phone, an iPhone, and typed the name into Google to see what came up. Jason was the oldest son of Clint Clement, the company's CEO, set to inherit the family's fortune.

Weirdly enough, he had dropped out of the public eye a few years ago with no one knowing where he was. The latest photo I saw of him on Google Images was a picture of his high school graduation with his dad and his mom posing strategically with him.

I rolled my eyes. Rich people.

I saw the same numbness I felt in my chest reflected in Clint Clement's eyes and wondered what it was like having a father like him. Not that I knew what a parent felt like anyway.

I was about to start investigating where he could be when I received another text.

"Carleson University," it read.

That was the only college in this boring city. Jason went here? It made sense. If his parents wanted him shipped off to somewhere safe, why not a rainy boring city in a random state?

Another text came up on my phone, "Cupcake Palace, 9 PM."

It annoyed me that Boss kept texting me more info every few minutes instead of all at once. And if he knew all this, why couldn't he just kill him?

I sighed, getting up to take a drive around the city before my assignment.

When the sun set, I watched it from the top of my building, my legs swinging off of the roof in the wind, my eyes on the ground hundreds of feet below. If I fell - would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Boss would probably miss my skills so I should probably live.

At 8:45 PM, I made my way to Cupcake Palace, which was near the university campus.

Seeing the people my age flooding out made me feel more empty than usual. I watched three girls huddled together outside on a bench, laughing at something. They looked the same as the friend groups I saw in movies I spent my time watching.

They probably had a life with family, school, and friends. Would anyone care if they died?

The thought made me distracted for a second. I was always aware of my surroundings, but as I walked into the place, someone opened the door at the same time as me, causing me to lose my footing as I stumbled.

As a trained assassin, I was quick to catch myself upright, but before I could, a pair of firm arms encircled my waist, keeping me from falling.

I froze.

To say I rarely made human contact sounded bizarre, but it was true.

The touch of a man's hands on my waist jarred me and I looked up abruptly into deep coffee-brown eyes, turned down in confusion, before I jerked back away from him.

"Sorry," his voice was raspy and deep, "I didn't mean to touch you, I was just scared you'd fall over."

I knew immediately that this was Jason. He looked similar to the photos but much older.

I realized I had been staring at him quietly so I just nodded, avoiding his inquisitive stare.

My eyes were drawn down to the name tag on his orange apron, "Jace," it read.

"Are you alright?" He spoke again, peering into my eyes.

"I'm alright," I replied.

"I was just taking out the trash," He said apologetically, confusing me more than the name tag, "I didn't think anyone was behind the door.

"You work here?" I asked.

"Yeah."

As we talked, I noticed a line starting to form behind me, trying to get in. 

I ducked my head down, backing away from the boy who looked nothing like his father and who smelled like lemons.

As I settled into a booth near the bathroom, I watched Jason eye me curiously before he left with the trash.

His touch burned into my waist as if it never left.