(2013) Shooter

by Jack Parker

  "Thanks." I muttered, fixing a grim look on my face, and going to meet my stalker.

  He sat in the booth, his back to me. That could either be a sign of respect, or an insult, depending on his background.

  So, approaching the booth, the first thing I saw was a shock of dark shiny hair, and the next thing I saw was a pair of clear gray eyes, as he turned in his seat to face me before sweeping to his feet and holding out a hand. He was a lot taller that I remembered from the previous night. And more muscular.

  I shoved the thought from my mind and glanced down at the outstretched hand, wary. I knew of four viable ways to kill someone that started with a handshake.

  I forced that thought out, as well. He wouldn't do anything here, too public, too much exposure. So I took the hand, which easily enclosed my much smaller one, and shook.

  "Reno." He spoke in a deep voice for the first time.

  "Grace. You got a last name, Reno?" the question bubbled up as an afterthought.

  "Not one with any relevance to our meeting today." He replied smugly, his smile stretching across his face.

  "Good." I let go of Reno's hand and allowed myself a small grin.

  Giving his whole name would have quickly marked him as a complete dumbass. And I don't work with dumbasses.

  Hmm. This guy might know what he's doing.

  Reno motioned for me to sit, and I did, keeping one eye on him as he sat as well.

  "So," Reno started, "I hear you're among the best around here."

  "Perhaps." Was my terse and noncommittal reply. My eyes narrowed, despite myself. Is he kissing up?

  "Which means that I don't have to worry about covering your ass." Reno shrugged, his grin still present.

  "Do I have to worry about yours?" I grunted.

  "I assure you that you don't."

  "Good. So what's the news?" 'News' was the term for job information. In a public place, this was standard speak.

  The only problem with code was, you have to use code that's simple enough for whomever you're talking with to understand, but not simple enough that a savvy listener would know.

  "Uppercrust house party. Host wants it done in a certain theme." He muttered. Any person listening would never suspect a thing.

  "Shit." Picky client. Wants it done in a public place, and by certain criteria.

  "No joke. Got the address in my wallet, hold on a sec."

  Reno never broke eye contact with me as he reached into a jacket pocket and removed an immaculately folded piece of paper. He slowly slid it across the Formica table.

  I scooped it up and unfolded it. Written in the same pretty script as the last note I'd gotten from Reno, were the job specs.

  "This isn't exactly going to be a walk in the park, is it?" I muttered, as my eyes flicked over the little note. A difficult job, a guy I don't know, who's supposed to have my back. Right.

  "Nope. High standard guests. Going to be a great party, though." Reno winked at me once, a cocky expression.

  Wow, a vote of confidence in code. That's a new addition to the 'Grace's favorite quotes' list. I couldn't restrain a tiny smile as I sipped my mojito. "Greatest party of the year."

  "I got the guest list memorized, so you keep that."

  I slipped the paper into a pocket and leaned forward in the booth, resting my elbows on the dented and pocked surface of the table. "So, what's your approach? Me, I'm an indirect kind of girl."

  "I prefer to stay in the background."

  I think I like this Reno person. We seem to be two peas in a freaking pod. "I think we'll get along just fine."

  Reno's cocky grin widened into a smile. "Good."

  "Yep. I have one question, though." I trailed off.

  "What's that?"

  "I've never heard of any Renos anywhere around here. Where do you usually operate?"

  "I wander a bit." He answered succinctly.

  That answered my question nicely. He was a free gun, would probably do any job needed doing in whatever area he had contacts in. "Ah. So you're one if those."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  I smiled wickedly. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

  "I'll just let that one go." Reno frowned and leaned back in the booth. "Since I think I like you and all."

  "You think?"

  "The vote's still out."

  "Well, you've never seen me completely sober. Maybe you should reserve full judgment until you can see me when I'm not a total wreck."

  "When's that?" Reno's pretty eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms across his chest. "I was actually under the impression that you were a drinker. Quite frankly, I wasn't happy about being assigned to this with you."

  Ouch. That conversation went south pretty quick. "To tell the truth, this isn't me." My voice went hard, cold.

  "Sure looks like you. Shadows under your eyes, kinda looks like you have a problem of some sort. So what is it? Drugs, alcohol, or other?"

  "Like it would be any of your fucking business, anyway." That was maybe a little too harsh, but it got the point across. He thinks he can come in here, on my turf, and accuse me, when he knows nothing about me? "Want to know something?"

  "Sure."

  "It's nobody's problem if I should so choose to go get utterly wasted every once in a while, and just forget who I am for a few hours. It's also nobody's business that I keep myself sober so that I can do my job. I'm not an alcoholic."

  "Should I really take you word on that one? Because it is my business if my partner is too damn inebriated to function."

  That earned a bit of leniency he had a "You know why I look like hell right now… I always do. I don't sleep. I just lay there and toss and turn and hate myself. But I won't let myself sink so far as to drown myself in that stuff. So no, your partner's not too inebriated to function."

  Apparently my tirade earned a smile, because that's what I got. "That works. Although I have to ask what makes it so hard to sleep."

  "You mean you actually live with yourself?" I had to snort a little at that one. Sure he does. I just got fed up and stood, ready to leave, when Reno reached out and grabbed my wrist. "Oh, hell no. Bad idea, friend."

  I am not in the mood to deal with this right now. Every single muscle tensed in anticipation of a fight.

  Reno let go, and scooted away from me, holding his hands up in the air in the gesture of surrender. "Look. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

  I forced my frustration out in a sigh through my nose. "Fine. We're even."

  "You don't sound like you forgave me."

  "I might not. The vote's still out."

  And with that, I walked off, leaving Reno with a frown on his face. I waved bye to Slam as I stepped out into the freezing night air. I brushed off the random person who called out at me.

  "Hey there. Can I buy you a drink?"

  "Naw, man, that's the crazy chick with the motorcycle from last night." His friend elbowed him.

  "Oh. Never mind then."

  I couldn't help but smile. I leave an impression on people, huh?

  After that, my walk was quiet, uninterrupted. Nothing but the sounds of faraway yelling, some music, and police sirens, melding together in the background. Cops never even made me nervous anymore. I could, and often would, walk right up to one and tell them 'good job, officer'. Generally got a smile and a 'thank you ma'am' in return.

  Oh, the irony.

  But those sirens made me think back a little bit, to my first job with Julie. Those were the days.

  "Just kill him, idiot!" Julia had shouted.

  I hesitated, my finger on the trigger of the semiautomatic pistol I clutched like a lifeline in my hand. A small man cowered in front of me, his once pristine business suit covered in dirt and grime from where Julia and I had thrown him to the ground only moments before.

  I held the gun. I controlled another person's life. That knowledge flooded through me with profound impact, and I hesitated.

  For that long five seconds, I hesitated. And our hit picked up on that.r />
  "Hey, look. I-I'll pay you twice what they did!"

  I paused another three seconds. Not for the money, but out of pity for the man who had been reduced to groveling for his life by two little women in a back alley. This man who had worked hard most of his life for what he had, and would now be killed over something so simple as a monetary dispute. Oh, the reasons people had hired me.

  "Three times as much?" he offered again, more desperate now, when I hadn't budged. "Look, I have a kid-"

  Bang.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  I couldn't let him finish that sentence. I would lose my nerve.

  I flinched with every shot, my resolve shattered, my hand unsteadied. One shot had actually missed entirely. The little man before me jumped two times from the impact of the .45 ACP rounds slamming through him. One went through his heart, and he was dead before he'd had the chance to utter a cry. My hands shook violently.

  I stood there, on the verge of tears, when I heard the sirens.

  "Come on, let's move." Julia's voice was fuzzy, background to the mental battle raging in my head.

  I just killed a man for money.

  I have to eat.

  I can get an honest job.

  There's no going back. Not now, not ever.

  I made my choice.

  There's no going back. That last thought echoed like a bullet's ricochet, and I allowed myself to be pulled about ten feet away before my sense had rushed back and I ran the rest of the way to the getaway myself, out of fear of those sirens. The fear of being caught.

  I'd nearly tripped over my own feet in my haste to escape the justice that followed along with those sirens.

  The memory ended with a snap as I came back around, alerted by a sound in the alleyway immediately to my left.

  Whimpering.

  Common sense told me to keep walking. Instinct told me to investigate.I had a bit of a compromise between the two, and allowed myself a glance.

  One male. One female. Female is on the ground, whimpering. This doesn't look like a friendly hookup.

  My suspicion was confirmed by a cry for "HELP!"

  "Shut up, bitch!" his kick connected, and earned him another whimper.

  That did it.

  One of my pistols cleared the holster silently. I held the gun at about shoulder height, took careful aim, and fired one round.

  Bang.

  The male figure fell to the ground in a heap, and the female screamed in alarm, but I'd already set off at a sprint, back to my ride home. Good deed done, now let's get the hell out of here.

  Those sirens were starting to make me jumpy.

  "Why are you so sweaty, Grace? What happened?" Daisuke accosted me nearly as soon as I entered the house.

  "Nothing, Dai. Nothing." I shook him off and went straight to my room. Just like a shifty teenager trying to shake off her parents. And thankfully, Daisuke knew when not to interfere, and he left me alone after that. But Julia didn't. She knocked once, though, in her defense. But then she barged right in, which sort of ruined the politeness of knocking first.

  "What's wrong?" Julia asked calmly, as she perched herself at the edge of my bed and crossed a leg over the other. Apparently she was willing to wait for her answer/explanation. However, I was feeling stubborn and didn't want to give her one. After all, one of us had to give in first, and it wasn't likely to be her.

  But I wouldn't give in that easily. And so she decided that she would attempt to coax me into talking by starting the conversation.

  "I've noticed something about you, lately."

  "What's that?" I grunted, not particularly in the mood for psychoanalysis. I'd just killed someone I hadn't been paid to kill, and that was bothering me, even though it really shouldn't.

  I refused to meet Julia's gaze, but I could feel it boring into the back of my head as I shrugged my weapons off and hung them in my closet. She answered very bluntly. "You're slipping, Gracie."

  That halted me in my tracks. "Slipping? What do you mean?"

  "I mean; you're not doing your job the way you need to be."

  I kept my temper in check. "How's that?" still not looking her way, for fear, I suppose, of seeing the truth there.

  "What happened to you?" she sounded sad.

  That was a good question, actually. What had happened to me? Especially on that whole Holtz fiasco. I put both of us in harm's way for someone I don't know and jeopardized the whole job. Not that we'd been paid, anyway, but still. "I don't know."

  "If you went rogue, someone would have to stop you, and it would most likely be me. I don't want to do that."

  "If I went rogue? Aren't you getting ahead of yourself, there?" I snorted.

  "Am I?" I finally glanced over at her to see an arched eyebrow and a disapproving expression.

  "Yes. You are. I swear." I sighed. "I'm just a little off. Nothing a little down time won't fix."

  Finally, I allowed myself to catch her eye, and that told me that she didn't believe a word of my bullshit. Not that I really blamed her, because I didn't even believe myself.

  "Grace." Julia's tone was stern, now. "You're acting like you did when I first met you. You're jumpy, emotional. Something's shaken you."

  "Damn. Nothing gets past you, does it?" I just gave up and flopped on the floor next to the bed. "God…"

  "I don't want anything to happen to you." I felt Julia's hand on my shoulder.

  "I know." Was all I could really say. I did know. I knew she was trying to help me, when truthfully there was no help she could possibly offer. Things would happen the way they would, and that was that.

  Hopefully they would happen in my favor.

  Julia just frowned. "Maybe you should stay with your sister for a while."

  "I can't do that. She'll be sick of me within an hour." I tried to joke in order to alleviate the tension.

  "I'll see you when you come back, Gracie." Julia swept to her feet and left me in slightly stunned silence.

  "What the hell?" I grumbled, and picked up my phone to call my sister.

  Dialing the number, I waited, but not for too long, as Constance picked up after only one ring.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey, Con. I hope it's not too late."

  "No, I'm just surprised you're calling at a normal hour." I could hear the smile in her voice. "What's new with you?"

  I thought fast for a reason I would need to stay at Constance's for more than a few hours. "Hey, my apartment's being fumigated. Could I crash there until they're done? It'll only be a day or two."

  "Oh yeah, sure, Grace! That's fine." She sounded a little more excited that necessary, like a girl waiting in anticipation for a sleepover. That's probably what it was.

  "Thank you, I was worried I'd have to sleep in a box for a while."

  "Pfft. Like I would ever let you sleep in a box."

  "I don't know. Would you?" I teased.

  "What kind of older sister do you think I am?"

  "The greatest kind, of course." I decided to kiss up a bit. Couldn't hurt.

  "Ah, now, stop trying to butter me up." She laughed. Hey, my sis has about as good of an eye for bull as I do. "But yeah, you can stay for as long as you like… might have to sleep on the couch, though."

  "I'm still young, I'll bounce back." I laughed, though I wasn't looking forward to the couch. Her couch was kinda lumpy and hard. Better for her husband's back, that way, but not for mine. Oh well.

  "Not for much longer, though. Going to hit the big three-oh, pretty soon, huh?"

  "Don't remind me." I grumbled.

  "Aw, don't be like that. We're going to throw you a party, to celebrate your entry into full adulthood." Constance giggled like an exited schoolgirl.

  "I love how you how you seem to think I'm still a kid."

  "You'll always be little Gracie to me."

  "I'll see you tomorrow, Connie." I said without much enthusiasm, which earned me a laugh and a goodbye.

  I hung up the phone and tossed it on my bed bef
ore a thought occurred to me. I have a job.

  Poking my head out of my door, I called, "Julia? I kind of- "

  She cut me off from the couch, book in hand. "I know. Taken care of."

  "Uh, well okay…"

  CHAPTER 4

  I stepped lightly out of the cab in front of my sister's house, glad to be free of the weed-smelling cabbie. He'd kept grinning at me from the mirror every few minutes, and I'd really wanted my good gun. It was a comfort thing, and he was making me feel really uncomfortable.

  But I was completely unarmed, save for a small Kahr conceal-carry pistol in my shoulder holster, with only space for one gun. I wouldn't come to Constance's house armed to the teeth. It was rude.

  I fixed a frown on my face and stomped up the driveway to a little sidewalk that led to the front porch. Passing an old porch swing, I knocked twice on the door and looked around, waiting for my sister to answer. Her old restored green Malibu sat gleaming in the driveway, but Ray's monstrous old truck was gone, as he was off on a trip.

  The front door swung open, and I found myself nearly strangled by a very excited Constance.

  "Oh, it's so great to see you." She hugged me tightly, and I returned it, equally happy to see the one person I was closest to in the world.

  "Hey, sis." I mumbled.

  Constance broke the hug and held me at arm's length, examining me like an anxious mother. She tutted several times.

  "What?" I asked defensively, slightly self-conscious.

  "I think you've gotten skinnier." She said with slight amazement. "And still have those dark circles… and the blue streak. I swear, you could still pass for seventeen."

  "I'll assume that was a compliment." I said gloomily.

  Constance was, basically, me… in six years. Thirty-five, with some slight smile lines forming, and she was about three inches taller than I was. Much more mature looking. Where I dressed as an angry teenager, she wore clothes more appropriate to our age group.

  "Of course it was, sweetie. Come in, it's cold out here."

  Constance ushered me into the house and had me on the couch with a mug of cocoa in my hands in less than ten minutes, with all of my stuff put away in fifteen. Like grandma on steroids.

  And that's basically what she had been to me all my life. A mother figure.