Chapter 3
THREE
I peered across the street and through the gated yard for the third time. Still, there was no movement. The small opening in the privacy bushes offered a clear view of the driveway near the basketball goal I used to practice drills that had college recruits knocking at my parent’s door for two years in a row.
Any minute, now .
I lowered my gaze to the computer screen again. The face of the woman who had occupied my thoughts for two and a half weeks was plastered on the screen. Like a semester exam, I studied her profile daily. The accolades she’d received at such a young age were impressive.
Not only was she a forensic scientist, but she was also a hell of an engineer. She understood the law because she was employed by the government, using forensics to her advantage and theirs.
Right underneath their noses.
Her resume was formidable. She showed up to their labs daily to learn all she could about their process, operation, and capabilities so she could use them to strategize cleaner kills and keep her name off their radar. Somehow, though, not even that could keep her out of their line of sight. Though it wasn’t her slip that landed them on the list of the most wanted, she was there.
Was .
I sipped the black coffee in my hand. Technology had always been my weapon of choice. Erasing their existence from the government’s database was almost as easy as handling the last two cases before they were added to her body count.
To my surprise, their evidence on the syndicate was minimal. Speculation was all they had mastered in the case and began building from there. Until months before The Chemist’s arrest, they had no idea who he was working with and at what capacity. The evidence pool began to shift once they learned it was his sisters running the operation.
However, everything they’d gathered could easily be googled. Names, occupations, birthdays, associates, and the list went on with more undeveloped research and findings. They were moving blindly even after capturing the most notorious leader in Clarke– and surrounding cities .
I cut my eyes toward the home I spent my childhood in once again. This time, I watched the garage door rise inch by inch until it revealed the aging face of my father. His presence was unkind to my spirit. It was assaulting, unhealthy, and downright damning, but I was unable to detach myself. I’d attempted too many times to begin making sense of it.
Like clockwork, he appeared from underneath the garage door the final Saturday of the month to wash the bi-yearly gift I left in his driveway. Too afraid to scratch his paint or dent a rim going through the automated machines, he preferred hand washing his whip. The Hellcat he’d had for the last eight months was serving its purpose.
The boost of adrenaline was just what my old man needed. At only fifty-two, he was in his prime. Retirement was near and he had an abundance of time on his hands. Trips to the track kept a smile on his face and fulfilled me in the process. I never had the pleasure of joining him, but I always watched from afar.
I closed the computer and sat it in the passenger seat of the van I’d purchased less than twenty-four hours ago from a cleaning company that was going out of business. I replaced the large screen for a much smaller one. I entered the number that hadn’t changed since I learned it in kindergarten.
122-855-4114
Before beginning the message I’d repeated in my head a hundred times or more, I found myself contemplating my next move. I locked in on him once again. The water hose was in his hand and the hood of the car had begun its bath.
As his only son and only child, finding ways to keep him informed had always felt necessary and difficult at once. The cars he received every two years were to let him know that I wasn’t on the streets, begging for bus fare, or looking for a handout from anyone. They were also a way to let him know I was alive and well.
My head lowered, focusing on the screen in front of me. The message box prompted me to enter words that struggled to escape me. Hesitantly, I began typing.
I me–
I erased the letters.
I’m well.
Stating the obvious felt pointless. I erased the message and reentered the first letters of the original message.
I met a woman.
So that I wouldn’t erase it, I tapped the blue button on the right side of the screen. Instantly, I followed up with another one.
Mom would love her.
I watched as he dug into his pocket to retrieve his cell. As he did so, I started the truck and secured my laptop. Confusion coated his features as he began looking around in search of me. I changed the gear just as he realized he wouldn’t be seeing me. I’d become a figment of his imagination. However, I didn’t miss the smile on his face as he stared back at the message on his screen.
I’d love to meet her.
His response came just as I made it to the stop sign at the end of our street. My cheeks peaked as I nodded my head up and then down. I deleted the messages and removed the SIM card.
Like a crispy chip, it broke in half with little pressure applied. I tossed both pieces out of the window and the phone onto the passenger seat.
I tugged at the collar of my coat as I stepped out of the white van. Clarke winters previewed every year in late autumn, but I was still unprepared for the swift changing of the weather. A month ago, sleeves were optional.
The back doors of the van popped open with barely a pull. Inside were all the supplies the cleaners had used to tidy businesses after hours. I’d offered an additional two-hundred dollars to the seller to keep it all inside. Along with a small bag, I removed the backpack and pulled it up on my shoulders.
A vaguely familiar voice captured my attention. Deep. raspy. Rich. Sultry . It wasn’t to be mistaken for anything else because there was nothing else as enchanting. I strained my neck for a better view of the parking lot.
There was mild traffic in the parking lot that was a result of the walkway that led from one portion of the hotel to the other. Hotel guests were plentiful, but her body was magnetic. Within an instant, my eyes were trained on her and my teeth were grinding against each other.
I wasn’t expecting her so soon. In fact, she was an entire twelve hours early. The contract had a specific expiration date. It was tomorrow at midnight.
It couldn’t happen too much sooner. His presence was needed for the final deal between him and John Atticus , the man who’d put a price on his head.
Her beauty was jarring. A thin sheet of bangs covered her forehead, but allowed her eyes to peek from the spaces between the strands. Her hair hung down her back with the sides pushed behind her ears to expose her round, oversized cheeks.
On her body, a black dress was painted, or so it seemed. The fabric stuck to her like glue. And, without a care in the world, she strutted across the walkway with her arm interlocked with my victim.
I flexed my shoulders and straightened my spine. Resentment pushed its way through the tunnel of unresolved, unsolicited feelings I’d thrown away as a young boy. My right hand twitched and my chest swelled with disdain.
Easy, Sonnie .
I shook my head, stilling the beast within me. Comprehension of her silent, unprovoked persuasiveness was beyond me. I couldn’t conjure a sensible explanation if I tried.
I want her.
To myself.
It was my sole logic and the fact that it didn’t mean me any good meant nothing to me. Neither did the fact that our occupations aligned and personal relationships were the first mistake most of us made. No one survived long after. Their hearts got in the way.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and followed the crowd of pedestrians toward the second wing of Hotel Kosm , opposite of where she was headed. The keycard I’d been holding on to since check-in changed the red light green, allowing me to enter the building from one of the six side doors.
Warmth replaced the early November chill once inside the building. I strolled down the first-floor hallway a mere eight feet and pulled open the first available door. The newly constructed staircase reeked of fresh paint.
My temperature rose with each step I took until I reached the fourteenth floor. Even steps led me to the room reserved for my stay. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign was still hanging. Upon entry, my torso pressed against the thin string that ran from the kitchen nook to the combination safe above the coat rack.
I removed the backpack from my shoulders and shoved my hand in the side to retrieve the scissors. One snip cut the rope in two. I proceeded into the room, slightly relieved that there hadn’t been movement inside since I’d left hours ago.
Up.
Up.
Up.
Up.
My index finger assaulted the button that determined the temperature of the room. When I was satisfied with the settings, I made sure to demand the holding of them. Otherwise, the settings would change after a single turnover of the system.
From the backpack, now resting on the bed closest to the door, I removed a new pair of AirPods, a deli sandwich, a black guard the size of a quilt, and a pair of binoculars. Neatly, I lined them side by side.
The removal of my coat followed. I folded it in half and then once more before storing it on the bottom shelf of the coat corner. I smoothed the fabric with the black gloves covering my fingers.
There .
I strolled across the suite to the second bed, closest to the window. With one hand, I lifted the mattress, revealing pieces of the AXSR . Time wasn’t on my side, but precision and speed were. In the blink of an eye, the undercarriage of the bed was empty and every component of the sniper rifle was on the temporary comforter.
“Barrel. Stock. Bolt. Forend. Magazine. Trigger. Safety. Chassis. Barrel. Stock. Bolt. Forend. Magazine. Trigger. Safety. Chassis. Barrel. Stock. Bolt. Forend. Magazine. Trigger. Safety. Chassis.”
Repetitive whispers cut through the silence of the room. One piece at a time, I assembled the best long-range rifle on the market. The accuracy was a marksman's dream.
“Barrel. Stock. Bolt. Forend. Magazine. Trigger. Safety. Chassis.”
The well-oiled machine stared at the window of the hotel room, awaiting its performance. I curled my fingers around the window’s edge and pulled backward, welcoming the brutal cold inside the room. As the room flooded with sharp winds, the vents began to rattle. Warm air exited them, combating the effects of the fresh air I’d invited inside.
My legs collided with the end of the bed closest to the door. I retrieved the deli sandwich and binoculars. With the other hand, I swooped up the guard and AirPods. The deli sandwich and AirPods were sat side by side on the small table near the kitchenette, both at a fifteen degree angle.
I slid the dining chair from the table I placed them on and dragged it across the room. Behind the rifle is where I placed it. The guard rested on the back of the chair and the binoculars were placed on the seat of it. I took the second seat at the table.
My head lowered as my thoughts began pouring from my mouth, lowly and slowly.
“Dear God, bless the food I’m prepared to receive. I’m prayerful it won’t be the last meal I digest. Should you determine otherwise, life was good. Continue to keep my father. Heal his heart and nourish his soul. Amen.”
One .
I paused, collecting myself as I chewed the first quarter of the sandwich.
Two .
The second bite led me to the images that flooded my computer screen during the search for her . She, too, had lost a parent. A father.
And, then there was Rhea. Her beauty was distinctive. Salient . Almost unreal. But, there were seven women who’d captured it in seven different ways as evidence that it was possible to possess such staggering beauty.
Lucky girl .
My mother succumbed to life on my eighteenth birthday. It was a day I’d never forget, yet wanted to. Every year I aged, it was a reminder that I hadn’t and would never reach my full potential.
Not because I wasn’t interested, but because I wasn’t capable. A prominent piece of my core had been stripped from me as a young boy. I wasn’t whole. I wasn’t complete. And, I understood at eighteen that I’d never be. Ever .
Three .
My choices since her death lured me into a state of oblivion. My stomach knotted as I bit into the sandwich, taking the third quarter with me.
A gang initiation caused my mother her life. As if it meant nothing. As if she was that disposable. As if the world was a better place without her. As if I was a better person without her. I wasn’t.
That night, I promised my soul to the devil if it meant avenging my mother’s death. It never made it to the pit where I planned to burn while knocking off every individual involved in the slaying of my mother.
The rage I waited for never showed. The anger I expected never consumed me. Instead, an eerie calm bathed me from sun up until sun down. Daily, I dedicated more time to my studies. But, it wasn’t my school lesson that I was invested in.
It was the intricacies of marksmanship. It was intriguing. Welcoming . Inviting . After months of feeling as if I no longer belonged, I felt a sense of purpose.
The day my father dropped me off at college and kissed my cheek goodbye was the last time he saw me. I slid in the back of a Maybach, leaving the sports dorm he’d perfected behind. I didn’t have the gumption to break his heart again, so I didn’t.
But, eventually he discovered I wasn’t on the court. I was in the field.
Four .
The final bite was washed down with the overpriced bottle of water the hotel offered.
“Arg,” I groaned, swiping my teeth across my gums to clear it of the soggy bread crumbs.
I folded the wrapper in half, the top right corner with the bottom left corner. I repeated the same steps until it was a small triangle that I stuffed in my pocket.
On my feet, I stretched my body until my bones began to pop. The AirPods slid into my ears with ease. I unlocked the phone they’d been connected to and visited the playlist I saved on every phone in my collection of devices. I didn’t bother starting the tunes. I wasn’t quite prepared.
Instead, I removed the binoculars from the chair and took the seat. With them pressed against my face, I peered across the street into the opposite wing of Hotel Kosm. The two towers faced one another, giving guests a clear view of the other side. Assisted vision allowed enhanced views of the opposing building.
1-1406 .
The curtains were pulled back. The lights were low. The movement was minimal. Human activity had yet to grace the room. Thermal energy matching the human profile was absent according to the Pulsar Merger Thermals .
I lowered the device and removed the lone stick of spearmint flavored gum from my back pocket. I folded it down on my tongue and allowed the mint to overwhelm my taste buds before settling in.
Prrrr.
Prrrr.
Prrr.
Prrr.
High-pitched whistles of no tune in particular exited through the miniature hole between my lips.
Prrrr.
Prrr.
Once the tingling of my tongue subsided, I replaced the whistling for chewing.
The waiting game begins .
Patience had become my dearest friend. If nothing else, it was required for my line of work. Moving too soon could cost your life or your freedom. I didn’t have either to spare.
The first five minutes of silence were the most rewarding. Preparing to take a man’s life was a rather complicated task. The window of opportunity was often small.
One miscalculation, malfunction, or mistake could fuck up the entire operation. So, the preparation was almost more important than the kill shot itself. Without proper preparation, there was likely no shot to take or it could go horribly wrong.
After another fifteen, the binoculars were against my eyes again and I was at the edge of my chair. Simultaneously, the door of the suite opened. Matthew Williams pushed through, engaging the thermal sensors.
Rugger .
Behind him, she sauntered into the room. Like a gazelle she was nimble. Agile . Light on her feet, yet her movements were agonizingly slow. Or, maybe it was a delusion on my behalf. I watched as she placed one foot in front of the other as if she was on the runway.
I studied her. I dissected her. I learned every detail. I remembered every detail. She’d become my obsession. My lesson. I knew more about Rugger Childers than I did any subject I’d prepared to end. And, everything I discovered fascinated me.
She mirrored me in so many aspects. It was almost as if I knew her well, though we’d only spoken once. She was keen on her lonesomeness. It was beneficial for her mental and emotional stability in the field.
Isolation and avoiding heavily populated places lowered her chances of encountering her demise. Gazelle . Her stoic persona was a protection mechanism that bestowed fear into those who knew her, knew of her, or encountered her.
Death was no simple assignment. Knowing she’d killed again and again and again without remorse and would do so every chance she had left others deathly afraid. And, they had every right to be. She was the symbol of extinction. A date with her was a date with death .
Why haven’t you called? I questioned with expanded nostrils.
I was slightly offended by her disregard for my feelings. And, since I’d encountered her, I felt like I wanted her near. Still, she was too far away for me to even touch her. She left me no choice but to touch those who she planned to allow the privilege.
She tossed her leg over Matthew’s legs and lowered her body onto his. I lowered the binoculars, having seen all that I needed to. I unlocked the phone a final time and pressed play.
When the sins of my father…
Way down in my soul…
And the pain of my mother…
Will not let me go…
The scope welcomed my right eye as the bullet-halting cloth came down over my head. It wasn’t bullet-proof, but it slowed the speed of a bullet tremendously, giving one time to react to its presence before it ended their life, claimed their limbs, or made them a potato for the rest of their lives.
Her fingers roamed his chest. The smile lines near the corners of his lips would’ve served as satisfying targets but they wouldn’t claim his life. They’d force him to wear a plate in his jaws, but he’d survive. Survival wasn’t an option.
Three seconds elapsed before my shot was clear. Rugger’s fingers were occupied with the stack of big faces Matthew had handed over.
Ten-thousand.
I sized the stack and was able to give an accurate count before her thumb slid across the fifth bill. She was swift, flipping through the money like a counter. She leaned over and stuffed it into her handbag. Almost instantly, she removed a black square from it.
Matthew’s smile grew. He accepted the contraceptive with glee, taking it into his right hand. His left palm pressed against her cheek, furthest from my line of vision, poking the beast inside of me.
Pew.
The sound of shattered glass followed the releasing of the lone bullet that pierced the side of Matthew’s head and marked the end of his life’s term immediately. Blood splattered onto Rugger’s precious face.
Unfazed, she stuck her hand into the same purse that held her fare and possibly a second or third condom. Without altering her position, she extended her right arm and fired her weapon.
Once.
Twice.
The third bullet pierced the guard, promising to render me brain dead if I didn’t switch its position. I tugged until the warmth of the bullet was closer to the floor than it was my forehead.
Shit!
She didn’t stop firing until the feathers of the comforter on the bed closest to the window were dancing in the air. Within seconds, she’d reload. But, I had no intention of being in the same location when she did.
I snatched the rifle up, curling it under my arm along with its stand. I snatched my coat and backpack and headed toward the door. This time, I didn’t exit. Instead, I pulled open the one just feet shy of it.
In the joining room, I removed the guard, folded it three times and stuffed it into my backpack.
“Barrel. Stock. Bolt. Forend. Magazine. Trigger. Safety. Chassis.”
One part after the other, I disassembled the rifle and stuffed it inside of the custom case on the bed of the empty room. Black shades now covered my eyes and a black beanie covered my head. I pulled my jacket up onto my shoulders, slid my backpack on, and scooped the case up in my right hand.
Make it rain.
Make it rain.
Make it rain.
Make it rain .
Slowly, I exited the room. The hallway was deserted. Every room on their roster had been reserved under a different alias for my privacy.
I pushed into the stairwell with my elbow against the handle. Two-by-two, I took the stairs down fourteen flights and exited the same door I’d entered. I quickly joined the trail leading to the other wing of Hotel Kosm . Just as I fell in line, my heart swelled twice its size.
Red blood splatter disguised the beauty of the right side of her face. Calculated steps and extensive limbs pushed her closer to her destination much faster than the others around her. Her eyes were trained on the building ahead, allowing me to slip up on her.
Our shoulders brushed against each other. Electricity surged through my veins. My fingers expanded, anxious to grab ahold of her. Needing to feel her. Needing to touch her.
“Excuse me.”
I cherished my life. And, I refused to let it end without fully experiencing the woman who’d surely end it if I grabbed ahold of her.
I said nothing as she continued on her path. The manners she’d shown weren’t out of remorse, but more so from the inherited moral compass stored in her complex brain. It exited her body automatically. She couldn’t have stopped those words if she tried.
The rigidness in my pants brought a smile to my face. Her grit was tantalizing. Her tenacity was addictive. Her aim was compelling. Her accuracy was thrilling. She’d tightened her grip around that lifeless heart of mind, successfully reviving it with her unorthodox CPR tactic.
No medical instructor could teach her those skills. She’d been trained by a master marksman. It was time she was tamed by one.