BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER BROKEN BASTARD #2
“Don’t fucking speak,” he warned, his voice deep and authoritative. He popped open the trunk of a black BMW and shoved her in. She screamed and kicked, but he only slammed the trunk down over her, blanketing her in darkness.
****
Fuck! Fuck!
This was Bain’s first official contract working for Killer of Kings, and he’d wanted to prove himself a valuable asset.
He knew the rules: no witnesses and a clean hit, nothing unusual from his other work.
Bain wanted to send the woman in his trunk straight to hell, but she didn’t look like she belonged at Semenov’s place.
Cops didn’t give a shit about dead criminals, but an innocent victim would lead to investigations and news reports.
If it got back to Boss that his mission wasn’t clean, he’d look like a fucking amateur.
So his witness was going to disappear without a trace, and nothing would be linked back to him or to Semenov’s assassination.
He still wasn’t sure what the fuck he was going to do with her, but he’d figure that out later.
Killing was what he did best, and he’d handled worse complications.
Bain drove a few miles up the road, then got out to remove the false magnetic plates.
He opened the trunk to toss them inside, ignoring his human cargo.
She gasped when she saw him, although with no street lights on this stretch of road, he’d be a dark shadow.
Not that it mattered if she saw him clearly or not because he wasn’t letting her live.
“I’ll do anything. Please let me go. I promise I won’t say anything.”
She definitely wasn’t one of Semenov’s girls.
Bain had been scoping out his interactions and routines the past week, and the old bastard preferred his bitches stick thin and highly processed.
His witness had thick curves and not a stitch of makeup—definitely not Semenov’s type.
He wasn’t sure what she was doing there—maybe applying to scrub the toilets or some other domestic shit.
Then he remembered the camera equipment.
“Why were you at Alexei Semenov’s house?”
“I was just on a job, I mean I was doing an interview … well I was going to do an interview,” she stammered. “I’m a reporter. Well, I’m a researcher trying to be a reporter. I swear I don’t know him or you or anything about what happened.”
Of all the damn luck. A reporter, researcher, whatever the hell that meant.
“Who knows you were there?”
“Nobody.”
He didn’t believe a word she said. For all he knew there would be a media frenzy tomorrow. He’d have to keep her breathing until things settled down. Once he was sure her disappearance wasn’t an issue, he could finish her off and burn the remains at the dump a couple counties over.
“You should have stayed home.” He locked her back in the trunk.
Bain had a house in the rural area outside the city. He didn’t like noise, people, or distractions. He valued his privacy.
After his contract with Bernard Sutherland went bad, Boss had shown up at Bain’s house uninvited.
He wasn’t sure how the fuck he got his address.
Bain had refused to work for Killer of Kings when Viper signed on years ago, not comfortable being under anyone’s control.
But Boss wasn’t ready to give up, offering him the kind of cash he couldn’t refuse.
No one else popped by to pay a visit. Salesmen were greeted with a shotgun, and soon no one dared to set foot on his property.
His house wasn’t luxurious. It was a shitty, century farm house that had been deserted and sold off in a power of sale.
He liked that it was off the grid, open concept, and surrounded by acreage.
There was no way he could live in a cramped condo or row housing.
The confinement of city living didn’t suit him.
He unlocked the front door and disabled his security system.
It cost more than the damn house. Bain dropped his duffel bag on the slab kitchen table and unzipped it.
He’d only used his handguns today, so it wouldn’t take him long to clean them.
All his weapons were well maintained, clean, oiled, and precision tested.
This contract had been easier than he expected.
Easy money was always a good thing. Then he remembered the woman in his trunk, and his mood soured.
Bain pounded his fist on the table, the weapons clanging together in the bag. Just thinking of her pissed him off. He hated complications.
He shrugged off his jacket, and then grabbed a black garbage bag from the cupboard and returned to the car.
There were few stars in the sky, the darkness only cut when the light in the trunk clicked on.
He stared down at the woman. Sweat matted her hair to her cheek, and even the minimal lighting made her squint.
She held her forearms in front of her face in a defensive posture.
Bain shoved the bag over her head and heaved her out of the trunk. “Walk. If you try anything stupid, I’ll kill you.”
She kept quiet as he led her into his house.
This was the first female in his place. When he fucked around, he did it anywhere else.
Those occasions were few and far between.
He was raised in hell itself, forced to seduce and fuck rich, older women so his captors could bribe them or get closer to their husbands’ money.
Sex had become something he hated, a punishment.
He preferred the brutal beatings over the nights in strange beds, knowing he often had to murder the women he’d been forced to deceive.
Once inside, he locked the door and led her to the basement.
He never went down there, but he wasn’t going to keep this bitch under foot, so it was going to be her home until he decided otherwise.
Bain thought about how much he hated women, but that wasn’t true—he hated everyone.
The whole world was against him, and even God abandoned him long ago.