The night air hit him like a slap as he stepped out of the motel. Rain slicked the streets, the neon glow of a distant bar sign reflecting in the puddles. Pulling his coat tight around him, he hailed a cab and muttered the address from the note.
As the car rumbled through the city, his mind raced. If he was a hitman, had he completed the job? Or had something gone wrong? The blood on his hands suggested the latter.
The cab slowed in front of an abandoned warehouse. A single police cruiser was parked outside, red and blue lights flashing ominously. He ducked low, heart hammering in his chest.
Then, the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
The police were already here.
And they were looking for him.