Eve finally looked up. Her eyes were the color of sea glass—beautiful, deceptive, and cold. "The con changed, Aggie. Viktor was a stepping stone. The real target was always the buyer he was meeting tonight. The warlord from the Golden Triangle. He’s in the penthouse. Viktor’s dead. Now we take the buyer's sat-phone, transfer the thirty million from his accounts, and disappear."
Here is the story, "Long Con Part 3: Agatha Vega & Eve Sweet." The safe room was a tomb of cold steel and silent alarms. Agatha Vega, her razor-sharp bob now dusted with plaster dust from the explosion two floors down, pressed a fresh magazine into her sidearm. Across the cramped space, Eve Sweet was doing the same, her movements unnervingly calm, her candy-pink manicure incongruous against the matte black weapon.
Agatha looked at the key. Then at the window. long con part 3 agatha vega, eve sweet
As she downloaded the files, Agatha kept watch. The city glittered below, oblivious to the heist unfolding in the clouds. In her earpiece, she heard the distant chatter of security finally figuring out the diversion was a fake. They had ninety seconds.
"You're not coming?" Agatha’s blood ran cold. Eve finally looked up
Agatha stood alone in the penthouse, the key digging into her palm. The alarms were seconds away. The warlord was moaning. And somewhere over the neon labyrinth of the city, Eve Sweet was already gone, leaving behind nothing but a promise that felt like a noose.
Agatha raised her gun. "I'll shoot you." Viktor was a stepping stone
"You're a monster," the warlord whimpered, blood seeping through his fingers.