At the bar, on the counter,
the bartender looked at Hunter and Black Orchid Cataleya, smiling. 'What can I get you two?'
'One Aguardiente, on the rocks.'
Cataleya scanned the shelves and picked straight away.
Hunter rarely drank, but after stumbling on several casks of aged liquor in Corrupt Police Officer Stanfield's underground shelter,
he had spent a while researching Western spirits.
With his near-photographic memory now,
the moment Cataleya said Aguardiente he recalled its profile.
Aguardiente is Colombia's national spirit, distilled from sugarcane and fruit; crisp and perfect for summer, better still over ice.
The US is the world's largest immigrant nation, home to huge numbers of Latin Americans,
so many bars stock a wide range of Latin liquors.
'Right away, ma'am.'
The bartender poured her a glass, used tongs to drop in a cube,
and set it before her.
'Rum for me, on the rocks.'
Hunter wasn't picky; he ordered a rum.
When the drinks arrived he clinked his glass against Cataleya's, her cheek propped on one hand as she smiled at him.
'To our meeting again!'
Even as their glasses touched, Hunter marvelled at how capricious fate could be.
That morning he had been painting on a Los Angeles street.
The night before, he had poisoned the junkie Slant.
The man had betrayed Dominic, forcing Mia to flee Los Angeles with her brother; their whereabouts were still unknown.
Mia had been Hunter's first woman after crossing into this world,
so she held a unique place in his heart.
He had hated Slant with a vengeance,
and last night he had dealt with him decisively.
Although Hunter doubted the FBI would spare resources to investigate Slant, let alone link the death to him—
after all, to frame Corrupt Police Officer Stanfield
he had stirred up plenty of trouble from the shadows, leaving the Bureau swamped in criticism and too stretched to focus—
Slant's tip-off had still implicated him, so he had chosen to paint on that out-of-the-way street,
one the agents tailing him had often visited.
He never expected that while sketching there
he would run into Black Orchid Cataleya again, a woman he had met only once days earlier.
Even more surprising, the Black Orchid remembered her promise and invited him for drinks.
"Fate works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?"
Cataleya took a small sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving Hunter's face.
Hunter smiled and nodded, tapping his glass against the one in Cataleya's hand.
"Aguardiente, if I remember right, is Colombia's national drink. Miss Cataleya, are you of Colombian descent?"
The smile on Cataleya's face visibly stiffened for an instant.
Then she nodded with a smile and answered vaguely, "Yes, my ancestors came from Colombia."
This Black Orchid clearly didn't want to reveal too much about herself.
She quickly changed the subject. "May I call you Hunter? Are you an art-school student?"
Hunter could tell she didn't want to dwell on the previous topic.
So he cooperated and steered the conversation elsewhere.
"Not at all." He set the glass on the bar, rolling it between his palms.
Staring at the glass, he said with some emotion, "My parents passed away, and I don't have any other relatives."
"So I had to drop out and find work to support myself."
"Drawing is one of the few things I still enjoy."
Hunter was lying through his teeth without even blushing.
Still, he worried his emotions might slip and betray him through his eyes.
So he deliberately avoided meeting the Black Orchid's gaze.
After all, this woman was a top-tier professional killer.
Women, it seemed, were creatures easily moved.
Especially when they faced someone they liked and had no guard against.
Right now, Hunter clearly fell into that likable category in Cataleya's eyes.
"I'm so sorry."
Cataleya apologized at once, even reaching out to clasp one of Hunter's hands.
Hunter had to work hard to force a suitably strained smile onto his face.
"Thank you."
In that instant he felt he'd unlocked a new skill—'acting'—and almost burst out laughing.
"Miss Cataleya, do you like to paint as well?"
He quickly changed the subject so she wouldn't notice his shift in mood.
Cataleya didn't think much of it and nodded. "Because of my work, whenever the pressure gets too high, I like to wander alone through galleries or museums—quiet places that lift my mood."
"Over time, I grew to love looking at paintings."
Hunter understood now why, in the plot of 'the deadly black orchid', this Black Orchid would eventually fall for a painter and, because of him, expose her identity, probably forced to live under a new name outside the U.S. for the rest of her life.
Thinking of this, Hunter was struck by inspiration.
He picked up the sketchbook beside him and flipped to the picture he had just finished.
"For me, painting is a hobby—maybe even a way to make a living someday."
"But I also hope my works can meet people who truly understand and love them."
"Miss Cataleya, if you don't mind, I'd like to give this painting to you."
Cataleya was a little surprised; this was only the second time she had met Hunter.
Earlier, she had watched him paint for a while.
She had even seen people approach to ask if his works were for sale, only to be turned down.
Parts of what Cataleya had said were not entirely true.
But some of it had been honest.
After every assassination, she really did need something to help her mood recover quickly.
She disliked crowds, so she often visited quiet galleries and museums to look at paintings.
Over time, she had developed a decent eye.
This handsome Asian Youth before her was genuinely talented at Drawing.
Cataleya had bought paintings in galleries herself, and by her standards the piece this young man wanted to give her—though he was still unknown—could fetch several thousand U.S. dollars if it found the right admirer.
If it met a true connoisseur, a five-figure price wasn't impossible.
After all,
Cataleya truly felt that the superb technique Hunter had shown
was still a bit raw and had room to grow,
but it already rivaled the works of famous artists priced at over ten thousand dollars in private galleries.
"...You really want to give it to me?"
Cataleya asked with a smile. "You know, this piece is almost on par with those celebrity paintings priced at ten thousand in the gallery."
"If Miss Cataleya likes it, that is the painting's honor."
Hunter nodded, his tone utterly calm.
Are you kidding me?
After swallowing several batches of dirty money in a row, his net worth was now close to five hundred million us dollars.
It was only a painting; right now no one was coming to buy it anyway.
Even if it really sold for a few tens of thousands of us dollars, so what?
Compared with the dangerous yet alluring Black Orchid in front of him, Hunter naturally knew which to choose.
Catalina stared at Hunter seriously, scrutinizing him for a moment.
Then she broke into a brilliant smile. "All right, then I'll accept it without ceremony."
"By the way, do you have any other works at home?"
"Can you take me to see them?"
Hunter blinked, looking at the glass she raised.
He smiled and clinked glasses with her. "Of course, you're welcome anytime."
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