by Kelly Moore
She steps closer to me and lets out a snicker. “Do it, please. I’m begging you to put me out of my misery.” I lower my head again and then I hear a crash.
Brooklyn is on top of her, wrestling her for the gun. A porcelain vase lays in pieces on the floor. It slices into Stacy’s arm as she struggles for control. “Brooklyn, no!” I yell and move toward her, but my feet become cemented in place at the sound of a gunshot. I see the recoil of the gun jerking between their bodies, and then it’s flung under the coffee table. My ears ring from the loud explosion in the small apartment, and the smell of gunpowder burns my nose. The bullet miraculously shoots out from between them, shattering a glass picture frame and disappearing into the drywall.
Stacy rolls Brooklyn beneath her, wrapping her hands around her throat. Brooklyn’s face turns red, and her eyes start to roll back. I reach for the gun under the coffee table. I steady my hand and take aim, squeezing the trigger. Stacy immediately slumps over. Brooklyn thrusts the weight of Stacy off her and scrambles into my arms with tears already falling. “She was going to kill you,” she cries. “I couldn’t watch you die again.”
“Why did you follow me? I told you to get away from me.” I say the words as I kiss the tears streaming down her face. “Where the hell is Jake?” I say all of this while my hands roam her body. I need to touch her.
“I told him I had to go the bathroom. I saw you in the bar. I recognized that look in your eyes and I had to come after you.”
I place my hand on her chin and tip her head up so that I can look at the red marks on her neck. I place my lips tenderly on them and kiss each fingerprint bruise left behind on her creamy skin. I need to get her the hell out of here. “Brooklyn, look at me. You need to leave.” I swiftly stand with her. I take her hand and lead her to a bedroom, pulling open several drawers before I find what I need. I throw a shirt at her. “Change into this and give me your shirt.”
She looks down for the first time, realizing she has blood splattered on her after the struggle with Stacy. Her skin pales and fear fills her dark eyes. She starts to tremble.
I take her face between my hands and steady her eyes on me. “You didn’t do this. I did. This is all my fault.”
“Why did you tell her to kill you? What the hell were you doing here in the first place?” The fear in her eyes is replaced by deep anger and her chest swells from trying to contain all her emotions.
“I promise to explain everything later, but you have to get out of here. I need to fix this. Take the bullet I gave you and do as I asked.”
“No, I’m not leaving you,” she says as she yanks off the blood-stained shirt. She uses it to wipe the crimson from her hands before tossing it to me, then tugs the fresh shirt on and squares her shoulders.
I take her by the arm and lead her to the door. “For the love of God, do as you’re told. If you’re caught with me, you, Jake, and our son are all dead.”
I feel her suddenly put the brakes on. “You know about John?” she gasps.
It takes a split second to register that she named him after me. I pull her into my arms. “Yes, I know about our son. Miles has been threatening me with John. Not just him, my entire family. Now please, do as I ask. Do you remember how to get to the hangar we hid out in?”
She pulls back to look at me. “Yes, I remember.”
“You and Jake get to the hangar. Tell Todd I need you hidden. As soon as I can get there, I will. I promise.” I can’t resist pulling her in for a kiss. She returns my kiss with the same blinding passion that I remember so well. I have to force myself to leave her lips. “Go,” I say before watching her walk down the hallway, glancing back at me every few steps.
Before Brooklyn opens the door to the stairwell, she stops and turns, facing me. “I love you,” she mouths toward me.
“I love you too, baby,” I mouth back.
I run back inside, closing the door behind me. A bottle of Clorox bleach is in the cabinet under the kitchen sink, which I use to quickly wipe down anything Brooklyn might have touched. My gloves will keep all evidence away from me.
The doorknob jiggles behind me, calling my attention. A tall man wearing an expensive suit ducks his head as he walks through the doorway. He sees me and quickly shuts the door behind him. I’m leaning over his dead wife with my hand on the gun lying beside her.
His long, lean face conveys no emotion as he sets his briefcase down beside the couch. He walks over to me and leers. Stacy’s eyes are hollow and fixed on the ceiling. “I see that you are very successful at your job.” His words are cold as he cocks his head to one side.
I slide the gun up my leg, so that he can’t see it, and I slowly stand aiming the gun toward him. “She was totally innocent until you put a mark on her head. You, I have no problem killing.” I squeeze the trigger. Shock covers his face as he drops to his knees, then breathes his last breath, falling over next to his dead wife.
Something inside of me feels off. This job never used to bother me this much. But that was before Brooklyn found my heart buried deep under the blood and destruction I had caused. I tear my eyes away from them, no longer able to stomach what I’m seeing. I turn my back and take a deep, cleansing breath. I need to shake this off, I have to get out of here.
I finish wiping everything down and make my way downstairs. I pull my hat lower and dart out the back door. Once I’m far enough away from the building, I take off in a sprint, not stopping until I reach my motorcycle. I slow my pace when I see a familiar dark SUV parked just a few feet away from my bike. I rap my gloved knuckles on the dark tinted window. I’m surprised to see Miles face behind a pair of sunglasses. He never comes near the kills.
“Is the job complete?” he asks, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his fat little nose.
“Yes,” I answer, looking straight ahead, not wanting to let him see the conflict and anger this job has birthed inside of me. I fall silent, straddling my bike and grabbing my helmet. Before I pull it all the way on, I hear Miles.
“Did you kill both of them?” He flicks a cigarette out the window.
I send my helmet flying to the ground and jerk my leg off the bike. “You fucking bastard.” I’m almost to him when he aims a gun out the window at me, laughing.
“When are you going to learn that you are nothing more than a puppet to me? I would think twice about your next move. You are so close to being a free man. I suggest you change your attitude and meet me back at the office.” He keeps the gun trained on me as the driver stomps on the gas, squealing the tires on the pavement.
My heart slows to its normal beat. When I saw his face appear from behind the tinted window, I thought he knew Brooklyn had found me. If he did, he would have killed her and thrown her body in front of me. She’s safe for now.
Chapter Eight
John
No one else is in Miles’ office when I arrive, so I make myself at home. I help myself to the bottle of bourbon sitting on the cart in the corner, generously filling one of the expensive crystal glasses set next to it. Bourbon in hand, I sit purposely in the leather high-back chair behind his desk, eyeing the pack of cigarettes on the desk. I’ve never been much of a smoker, but I need something right now to calm my anger.
I pull a cigarette from the pack and place it between my lips, then light the end with the lighter that’s lying beside them. The harsh smoke burns deep in my lungs, burning away the sharp edges of my emotions.
Miles knew what he was doing when he sent me on that job. Neither party in that couple was innocent. Innocent people don’t put hits out on each other. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past Miles to make a deal with both of them just to double his money. He perceived what my reaction would be. He knew I’d have trouble killing that woman, but he also gathered that she would put up a fight. He probably told her husband to go in after he tracked me inside the building. What he didn’t plan on, though, was Brooklyn being there. I’m thankful he had no visuals on me during the hit.
Getting myself mixed up in thi
s shit is one thing, but dragging her back into it is another altogether. I wish Jake wouldn’t have brought her. As much as I want to see her, I’d rather have her safe and far away from this.
Miles saunters into the office with his two goons on his heels. He snorts when he sees me sitting in his seat, but chooses to ignore it and take the chair across from me. “Well that was a shit show if I ever saw one,” he says with a laugh.
I take a drag and blow the cloud of smoke in his face. “Are you going to tell me what the ‘big job’ is or what?”
He stands and walks to the minibar, pouring himself a drink as he thinks it over. He downs the liquor in several loud gulps and pours another before sitting back down.
“Either tell me so I can get it done or let me the fuck go. I’m ready to get on with my life.”
He leans forward in his seat. “This is your life, John. Just because you got a glimpse of a normal life doesn’t mean it was ever in your reach. You’re an assassin, John. And killers don’t get happy endings.”
Anger rises in my chest and erupts out of me. “Before you, I had never murdered an innocent person!”
He swirls the amber liquid in his glass. “You’re not God. You don’t get to decide who lives and dies. You’ve sinned, whether you want to believe it or not. Don’t fool yourself into believing that you’re some sort of hero here.”
He’s right. I don’t deserve a happy ending. I’ve killed people. A lot of people. Doesn’t matter if they were lower than the scum on the bottom of my boot or not. It wasn’t my decision to make, but as long as I believed the world was a better place without them, I didn’t give it a second thought. Not until her anyway.
Miles laughs. “Don’t blame all your problems on me. Do I have to remind you of the skinny kid that came begging to make some real money? Do I need to remind you how you felt when you held that gun in your hands for the first time? Or how about watching the light fade from the eyes of the first life you took?”
I grit my teeth together and flex my jaw trying to keep from strangling the bastard right here and now. A slideshow plays through my mind, showing me the faces of those that I’ve killed. Every soul I’ve taken has taken a small piece of my own with it, leaving me with almost nothing left. I’m a monster. I bring nothing but pain and death to every single person I meet. I should have died on that boat two years ago. The world would’ve been a better place then.
Miles’ laugh draws me out of my head. “There’s no point in regretting it all now. It can’t be changed. We are where we are.” He motions toward the guard by the door, who brings over a file. He drops it on the table in front of me.
I look down at it, but don’t move to open it. Whatever is in this file will be the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
“Go on. We don’t have all night.”
I take a deep breath and open the folder. On top of the stack of photos is one of Knox, the man that ordered the hit on Brooklyn.
This triggers a small smile. I’d be more than happy to take this guy out.
“Don’t get too excited. Keep looking,” Miles says.
I flip to the next picture and my jaw drops. It’s Matthew, President Warren. Brooklyn’s dad.
“You want me to kill the President of the United States?”
An evil smile darkens his face. “That’s right.”
I close the file, banging my hand against the desk in exasperation with a thud that echoes around the room. “How is Knox putting out a hit from prison?”
He takes a sip of his drink and shrugs. “He has a long reach, much further than you or I.”
I finish the liquid in my glass and pour another, filling it to the brim before returning to Miles’ chair. “And if I won’t do it?”
He leans in, resting his arms on the desk. “Then we’ll have a big problem.” He stands. “Do I just need to kill you now and send them after your family, because I can do that. No sense in wasting time here.”
“No! I’ll do it. I just need to make a plan. I mean, how in the fuck am I even going to get close to him?”
He sits back down with a smile, happy to have gotten his way yet again. “If memory serves me correctly, you already have a relationship with him. Use your connections, make him trust you so he will let his guard down.”
“You don’t think coming back from the dead will raise some red flags?” The cigarette, long forgotten in my hand, has burned its way down to my fingers. I stub it out with a little too much force.
“Well, make your plan and do it fast. I’ll be by in the morning to see what you’ve come up with.” He stands and walks to the door. “Make sure you get him back to his cell,” he tells the guards with a nod in my direction before stepping from the office.
I need to get out of here and warn him. I know this bracelet can kill me instantly if Miles wishes, but he won’t know anything until tomorrow. That will be enough time to get a message out and maybe even see Brooklyn one last time.
I look at the black gear bag from the last hit, unnoticed by the guards and sitting on the floor by the desk. Huge mistake, Miles, I think to myself. I have to act quickly.
The guards take several unknowing steps toward me to drag me back to my cell as soon as the door closes behind Miles. I quickly lean down toward the bag.
Realization lights up their faces and they immediately turn tail and sprint to the door. Not fast enough.
The barrel of the gun, silencer still equipped, is aimed directly at them before they have made it halfway across the room. I pull the trigger, dropping the guard on the left like a sack of potatoes. His blood splatters across the door as his partner reaches for the handle. Shocked to see his companion taken, he changes his course back towards me.
He is quick, closing the distance between us in a split second. Operating on autopilot, I swing the barrel in his direction and squeeze the trigger twice before sidestepping his massive body. He lunges past me, loses his balance, and falls to the floor with a look of shock on his face.
I stand panting for a moment with the gun trained on his back, ready in case he jumps back up, but he lies still with his face on the floor. As I watch, a puddle of blood begins pooling out around him, and his heaving chest falls still.
I roll him over to check out the wound. I need him dead. I can’t have anyone alerting Miles after I leave. He can’t know I’m gone until morning. He’s retired for the evening and won’t bother checking in until morning.
When I look at him, the light has already faded from his eyes. I check his pulse to be sure, and the soft thumping I should feel beneath his skin is gone. I stand and walk toward the door, stopping to check on the other guard. Nothing. No pulse, no breathing, just lots of blood. I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder before walking out and hopping on my bike.
I make a quick stop at a gym I used to attend. I rented a locker here to keep a few items stashed away in case I ever found myself in this kind of predicament. I don’t have to worry about the locker being reclaimed because the locker rental and gym membership are taken from one of my accounts each month automatically.
Luckily for me, I don’t need a key card to get in. I walk in through the doors like I’m just a regular guy here to work out. I make my way into the locker room and walk through until I find the one that belongs to me.
I place my thumb against the fingerprint scanner, causing it to scan my print. The light changes from red to green and it pops open.
I reach in and pull out my black duffle bag. Leaving the door open, I place the bag on the bench behind me and unzip it to reveal guns, ammo, and enough cash and fake documentation to leave the country.
I close the bag and sling it over my shoulder. It’s time to take back what’s mine.
I pull up to the hangar where I told Brooklyn and Jake to go. It’s late and no lights are on in the place. I quietly walk up the stairs to the apartment. As I reach my hand towards the door, someone grabs me by the throat and throws me against the outside wall.
It’s Jake.
Anger is etched on his face until he realizes it’s me. “John?” he whispers.
I nod, still unable to talk from the force he’s applying to my throat.
I watch as the emotions on his face reverse themselves until he suddenly pulls me in for a hug. “I knew it. I knew we’d find you.”
He pulls away with a slap on my back. “God, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He places his arm around me and leads me in the door.
As soon as my foot is on the carpet, I’m almost knocked over as Brooklyn jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my hips and kissing me like she thought she would never be able to again.
I place my hands on her ass to support her weight as I turn and press her against the wall. My lips move with hers as she starts pushing my leather jacket off me.
Jake clears his throat. “Umm…guys?”
I hold up my finger, telling him to wait. I just need a few more seconds to taste her, to feel her. I want nothing more than to ravage her right here. I miss the way she tastes. I miss making her make that little sound that could bring me to my knees. I miss feeling her move beneath me. But there is business to take care of first.
I slowly start to pull myself away as I set her on her feet. Her dark eyes look up at me and she runs her thumb along the scar on my cheek. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I am for now, but I have some news and I think you both need to take a seat.”
The three of us move into the kitchen and Brooklyn and Jake sit at the bar. I reach in the fridge and grab a beer, taking a long drink before beginning.
I look at Brooklyn first. “You need to call your dad and warn him.”
“Warn him about what?” Her eyes are wide and full of fear.
“Knox put a hit on him. Miles says that if I follow orders and take him out, that I’ll get my life back. That we’ll all be free.”
“You don’t actually believe him, do ya, John?” Jake asks.