Mrs. Hunt for 30 days
Dark hair, sharp features, expensive clothes that somehow made her look dangerous rather than elegant.
"Sit down and tell me what you need," Melanie instructed, skipping any pleasantries.
I slid into the seat across from her and leaned in close.
"I need someone eliminated," I whispered. "Permanently. And it needs to look like an accident or random violence, nothing that could ever trace back to me."
Melanie did not even blink.
"Who's the target?" she asked calmly.
"My sister," I admitted. "My half-sister, Mitchelle."
Melanie raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.