Marcus's words play on my mind for the next few days. I try to push them out, to not worry about it. But I know this is the beginning. This first suspicion is the beginning of Marcus slowly piecing together the identity of the assassin – who I am.
I let out a shallow breath and attach my pinny.
"You okay, Ivy?" Ella, one of the new waitresses asks.
"Yeah," I reply, sighing. "Mr Salt is coming in today."
"Ah, yes, I've been told all about that old pervert. I don't envy you."
I laugh. "He's not that bad really. You just need to know how to handle him."
"Well. I have no idea," she admits. "Anyway, good luck."
"Thanks, I need it."
I close my locker door and make my way to the restaurant. After saying a brief hello to my colleagues, I check on Mr Salt's table, making sure it is perfect for his arrival. In the pocket of my pinny is another one of the tiny listening devices. I contemplate placing it down before he gets here, but I decide against it. After my recent assassination, I suspect Mr Salt's security is going to be tightened and I am sure that one of the first things they are going to do is sweep for bugs.
I let out a frustrated sigh and look at the clock. Five minutes until he arrives. My stomach flutters with nerves.
This is the first time Mr Salt has been in the restaurant since I killed his precious bomb maker. I wonder how angry he's going to be today.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath and rub my stomach. Then, I square my shoulders and make my way over to the door to wait for the old creep.
Will he have security again that I have to navigate? What if I can't put the listening device down?
What if I get caught?
I groan under my breath and clench my shaking hands into fists. Then, before I can think even deeper about it, Mr Salt appears.
My heart leaps into my throat as I see him. It is a strange mix of fear and revulsion. Just seeing his fat pink face and the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead has my toes curling.
Still, I force on a wide smile and welcome him in.
"Ivy, my girl!" he bellows. "How have you been?"
Thank goodness, he's in a good mood.
"I've been very well, Gareth, you?" I ask, making my voice sickly sweet.
"All the better for seeing you," he grins, then winks. I laugh, despite wanting to gag. Behind him, Owen rolls his eyes.
"Oh, Ivy, meet my new security guy," Mr Salt says, and gestures to a man standing behind him and Owen. I look at him and a chill spreads down my spine.
Something about him immediately screams danger.
Perhaps it's the way his cloudy brown eyes bore into me as though he can see exactly what I am. Or maybe it's the calm, predatory smile on his thin, chapped lips.
"It's nice to meet you," I say to him, trying to keep my voice light-hearted. He doesn't reply, he just nods his head once, the creepy smile not leaving his lips.
I gulp and turn. I can still feel his eyes on my back as I walk away.
"It's much better having old Clarkie around instead of a whole team of oversized buffoons," Mr Salt waffles as he falls into step beside me.
"Indeed," I reply.
"Plus, Clarkie here is worth ten men. Nothing slips past him."
I laugh awkwardly. The listening device in my pocket now feels heavy. How am I going to place it without Mr bald and creepy spotting it? I turn to face him, and sure enough, he's still watching me intently. I look back at Mr Salt and help him get comfortable before doing the same for Owen, who also looks uncomfortable in the presence of Clarkie.
Clarkie takes a seat and leans back in it confidently. I can't help but glance another look at him. Something about his long, slightly wrinkled face, and pale bald head, makes him look strangly terrifying. I repress another shudder.
"I'll go and get your water," I say and leave before Mr Salt can reply.
My hand shakes as I pick up the water jug. I curse myself for having such a reaction.
"Come on, he can't be that bad," I mutter to myself. I know it's not true though. I grew up around men like him. Men who like to kill and cause pain. I've seen it enough whilst dealing with other gangs, There was always that one who revelled in suffering. You could see it in their eyes and almost taste the death in the air as it surrounded them like a stinking, rotting cloud.
That is what I sense in Clarkie now.
It has the hairs on the back of my neck standing and when I return to the table, my churning stomach only grows worse. Though he looks relaxed, I know he isn't. The tension in the air surrounding him is thick like he's going to snap at any moment. His eyes follow my every move and his fingers twitch every time I get closer to Mr Salt.
He smirks at me, as though he knows the effect he's having on me. Mr Salt doesn't notice any of this happening. He just waffles on, but I don't hear a word he says. I just smile and hum in agreement before leaving to get their drinks.
How am I going to plant the device with Clarkie watching?
Fuck.
I let out a shaking breath and go into the back room to compose myself. I pull at my hair and try and calm myself. My mouth feels sickly and dry, so I gulp down water. It doesn't help.
Fuck.
I shake my head and square my shoulders. What would Mother do? She wouldn't let a creep like that scare her, that's for sure.
"Come on, Rowan," I whisper to myself and leave to go and get the drinks.
Thankfully, I manage to keep my hands from shaking as I put the wine glasses down. Mr Salt talks as I do so, but still, I barely listen. My thoughts whirl with ideas of how I'm going to plant the listening device.
I glance at Clarkie. He is still watching me and that smirk has not left his slimy lips. I almost want to vomit.
"And Clarkie here is ex-military," Mr Salt says, gesturing to him.
"Really?" I ask.
"Aye, special forces," Mr Salt tells me, then leans forward to speak lower. I reluctantly lean in to hear what he says. "This man here could take out everyone in this room without breaking a sweat. In fact, he'd even be able to dispose of the task force they'd send in to take him down." Mr Salt lets out a wheezy laugh then slaps my arm like it's all a joke. I laugh too.
"Well, you're certainly in safe hands," I say.
"I sure am. No cowardly assassin can get me whilst I've got Clarkie."
"Assassin," I gasp.
A harsh look from Owen has Mr Salt closing his mouth and rolling his eyes.
"Anyway, I'm in safe hands, so there's no need to worry, my dear Ivy."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. You're my best-tipping customer, I'd be very disappointed if something happened to you," I joke.
"Miss Ivy, am I just a bank account to you?" he gasps. I laugh and slap him lightly on the shoulder.
"Why else do you think I put up with you?" I ask innocently.
He lets out a roar of laughter and shakes his head.
"You see Clarkie, this is why Ivy is my favourite!"
"Yes, she's very special indeed," Clarkie says, then grins.
My smile tightens and I look back at Mr Salt.
"Well, let me go and place your order with the kitchen," I say to him.
"Thank you," Mr Salt replies.
"I assume you're both having the usual?" I ask, looking between him and Owen.
"Aye," Mr Salt replies. "And get the same for Clarkie too. Got to make sure the man keeping me safe is spoilt too."
"Of course," I reply and turn to walk away.
It is as I make my way to the kitchen, I decide that I cannot plant the device. It is far too risky and with no promise of reward. I'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way and hide behind the wall to try and hear what they're saying.
I input the order into the system and then head to the section behind their table which, thankfully, is empty as the restaurant isn't that busy yet.
With a cloth in hand, I start slowly arranging and wiping down the table.
Beyond the wall, I hear Mr Salt and Owen talking. Luckily, with how quiet the restaurant is, I can hear them. It isn't completely clear, but it's better than nothing.
"...prick Kaiser," Mr Salt grumbles. My eyes widen and I bite back a smile.
"He's vital to this, Gareth," Owen sighs. "He's not going to help you if you keep up with attitude."
"The man needs to do as he's told. He's a smug asshole."
"With his record and results, he has a right to be."
"Kaiser is nothing but a pretty boy with an ego." Clarkie's voice is smarmy and I make a gagging expression upon hearing it. Hearing him, of all people, say that about Marcus makes an angry heat rush through me.
"Clarkie's right. The only reason Kaiser is where he is, is because of who he's friends with. We need to find a way to get rid of him," Mr Salt hisses.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen," Owen replies, sounding exasperated.
"An accident could befall him, perhaps?" Clarkie says.
"Enough," Owen hisses. Clarkie and Mr Salt laugh.
"It was a joke, Owen."
"Not a funny one. Marcus Kaiser is the best operative this country has and neither of you can deny it. Plus, he's a shadow crawler. You know how rare they are. You can't afford to waste one or worse, piss him off. We need Kaiser."
Clarkie laughs again and I ball my hands into tight fists upon hearing the sound. It makes me cringe.
"You talk about Kaiser as though he's indestructible Leave me in a room with him alone and we'll see who comes out on top."
I roll my eyes.
"My bet is on Clarkie," Mr Salt replies, still not taking the conversation seriously.
"For fucks sake, we aren't here to talk about Kaiser. Can we get down to business please?" Owen hisses.
"Fine." Mr Salt sighs.
"One moment," Clarkie says and I hear his chair scrape.
My heart leaps into my throat. Quickly, I move away from the wall and to the other side of the table. I've only just started polishing one of the pieces of the cutlery when Clarkie appears around the corner.
He smiles at me and my whole body stiffens.
"Is everything okay, are you needing anything?" I ask, trying to keep my voice as light-hearted as possible.
"What are you doing?" Clarkie asks, walking slowly toward me. I hold up the cutlery.
"I'm getting the tables ready for our guests later," I reply, the lie coming out effortlessly.
"Uh huh," Clarkie says, still moving closer to me. I back up a little, stopping when my back hits another wall.
"Very convenient that you're working on the table right on the other side of where we are sitting, don't you think?"
I frown. "It's my job to clean the tables and get them ready. I was just about to move on to the next."
He comes to a stop only inches from me. I gulp and look around out of the corner of my eye, cursing myself for being in this empty section all alone.
My mouth goes dry with fear. Being so close to Clarkie makes my blood run cold, especially with the way his eyes scan over me slowly, his gaze wickedly cold and dangerous. His thin, chapped lips pull into a cruel, calculated smile. As he runs his pink tongue over his lips, I repress a shudder.
His posture and his demeanour are scarily calm. He doesn't care about anyone spotting what he's doing. He reaches up with his hand and runs a clammy finger over my cheekbone. I flinch. I can't help it.
In my chest, my heart hammers wildly. By my sides, my balled fists tremble. I hold my breath, just so I don't have to smell his sweat mixed with cheap, overpowering cologne.
The trail of his touch leaves a burning sensation in its wake. My lips tremble and tears sting my eyes as an overpowering sense of danger washes over me.
He laughs. The sound is low and deep. It crackles in his throat. I try not to look into his cloudy eyes, eyes that I know have seen a lot of bloodshed and cruelty. I try not to think about his fingers on my skin. Fingers and hands that I can sense have caused tremendous amounts of suffering.
My eyes find his bald head and I almost gag in revolution at the layer of sweat glistening on it.
"Sir," I finally manage to stutter. "Please, don't touch me."
My voice is breathless, and he laughs, stepping back.
"Stay the fuck away from Gareth Salt," he tells me. "The only time I'll let you close from now on is when you're bringing drinks or dinner. Do you understand?" How can his voice be so horribly scratchy, but his words so eloquently spoken?
"I'm just trying to do my job," I whimper.
He pouts mockingly. "I don't care. Stay away. Or I'll make you."
He takes a step closer, his face only inches from mine. His breath reeks of rotting, and death.
"No one in the world cares about a pretty little waitress. This is your only warning. I will make you disappear if you piss me off again."
Before I can reply, he spins on his heels and walks away, whistling. The tune is merry. Yet, despite being cheerful, there is a clear cruelty behind it. I shudder.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and rush away with shaking hands.
Fuck. What do I do now?
I need to do as he says. There is no doubt in my mind about the danger Clarkie presents. But I need to make a plan. I need to get rid of him before he gets rid of me because if I don't, then that man will kill me.