Chapter 2
Chapter Two
KILLIAN
Patience has never been a problem for me. I could wait for days when it comes to a target. I’m not sure when shit changed, but now I find myself getting irritated and on edge. I’m a bigger asshole than normal, and I was already a giant one, as I’ve been told many times by many people.
I can’t be too bad because my inbox is always full of requests for another job for me to do.
I watch the dumb fuck kiss his secretary that he just got done fucking on top of his desk.
If she doesn’t get gone soon, this is going to be a twofer.
But I make myself wait. I don’t enjoy killing, not for free anyway.
If you’re good at something, you should get paid for it.
Disgust rolls through me as Amy, the secretary, adjusts her dress.
My piece of shit target is out here cheating on his wife and not even wrapping his dick up.
I'll never understand how these schmucks let their dicks lead them around.
At least I'm no longer hungry. I'm sure the wife will be happy he's gone.
He's got a big life insurance policy on him.
When the secretary takes a step back from my target, I pull the trigger, not caring if the blood splatter sprays onto her or the fact that he wasn't done putting his pants back on. This must be what it means to get caught with your pants down.
I quickly dismantle my rifle before making my way across the roof and down the fire escape ladder. Jobs in the city are both a pain in the ass and convenient. It's easy to get lost in the shuffle of the crowds till you make your way to the edge and finish your exit plan.
Yes, they'll be able to track you, but that's why your real escape setup is still not done. I hop into the truck I stole this morning and hit the highway. I don't pull out my phone and power it on until I have a few more miles behind me. This isn’t my first rodeo, and it surely won’t be my last.
This was a government job. If I do get grabbed, it won't take long before I am let loose again.
That's not only a pain in the ass, but you also lose hit money.
It's not but a couple of seconds before my phone starts to go off.
This is not the normal phone line, at least not for the typical texts and phone calls that are sent.
"The fuck," I mutter when I see Tristan Vanderbilt's name.
It's been a while since we touched base.
We worked together at one time. I wouldn't call him a friend.
I don't have those. But I do have a level of trust with him, and I'm getting the sense he wants a favor, and he wants it now.
I do owe him for a chunk of the tech he has supplied me.
Fuck, I hope there isn't an issue with that.
I send off an alert that my job is complete before tossing the phone out the window.
I don't pull out another until I hit the mountains. I ditch the truck in an old mining station and toss my shit into the back of the SUV I left here before changing the plates out. Lots of planning goes into these jobs. Hitting the target is probably the easiest part, if I’m being honest.
I pull away from the truck before getting back out to wipe it down before setting it ablaze.
You can never be too careful. I don't want anyone tracking me.
Not even the government, and that's who I do most of my jobs for.
I freelance from time to time. Shit gets boring, and you need a change every now and then.
I go east, deeper into the mountains until I hit another highway before I finally stop at a gas station in a small town. I pull my hat lower before entering, not spotting any cameras. I get a Coke and a couple of protein bars. It will hold me over for now.
The clerk pays me no attention, focusing on the small screen and watching a game as I toss the bills onto the counter and don't wait for change.
I let out a deep breath when my alert goes off again. Only a few people can force one through.
"Fucking hell, man, I'm in the middle of a job," I tell him when I answer.
"I've got a job for you." I catch a man coming around the corner of the gas station out of the corner of my eye, his attention on me.
"I don't need a job," I tell him.
"Got any change?" I turn slightly to face him. He's got two-hundred-dollar sneakers on.
"No." I turn back away.
"Fuck you, then," he says. I shake my head and turn back around and clock him. He drops.
"Are you listening to me?" Tristan asks, having the audacity to be irritated with me.
"Spit it out." I take a bite of the protein bar, and it's shit. I toss it into the trash before getting back into my vehicle.
"I need you to check out a location for me."
"Seriously?" Unless this is in a secure building, why would he need me, and that's not really my specialty. I kill people. I'll wait for them to leave the secure building.
"Yes, I'm fucking serious," he snaps out. Interesting. This must be about the girl. Tristan is calm for the most part. Until he's not. People underestimate him. When he's in a suit, he's got the whole Clark Kent thing happening. He blends in well.
Me, not so much.
"Where?"
"Colorado." I pause. Does he know where I am?
"Are you tracking me?"
"No, should I be?"
"If you want to end up dead, sure."
Tristen ignores my threat. “I need you to make this a priority.” It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that he’s not really asking. He expects me to drop whatever I’m doing. I can hear the edge in his voice. He always has one, but this is different.
“Are you going to give me the details or make me guess what this is about?” I have an idea already, but I want to get him to say it. It’s the girl.
It’s always the fucking girl when it comes to men. I have made sure that will never be the reason I get popped because we all know when you want to find a man you’re searching for, you follow the love interest.
“I’m sending a file to you now that has everything you need in it, but that’s part of the problem. I don’t know who is on the other end of these messages, but I know it’s not an old lady that died months ago.”
"And why do you want to know who is at this location?"
"Does it matter?"
"If you want me to kill them, it might."
"I'm not sure. First I need to know who it is." He pauses. "They have been in contact with a person close to me, and this person is trying to keep me from finding out."
"Does this person close to you have information that can get out, and is this target trying to get it from her?” Oh, I let the word her drop on purpose.
“I never said this was about a female.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The line goes quiet for a beat. “When did you start asking so many questions?” Fuck, he does have me there. Why do I give a shit? It’s a job. Well, a favor really, but I do owe him.
“Since you want me to drop what I’m doing and run off on your errand.”
“I know you just finished a job, and you know I pay well above what the government does.” That is true, but this job isn’t about the money so much anymore.
I have money set up in a handful of banks. I don’t have much use for it. I’m always moving around. I could retire, but then what would I do all day? This is what I’m good at. It’s all I know anymore.
“You’re really starting to piss me off.” I pull back onto the highway.
“Kotov.” He says my last name, letting it hang in the air. Fuck me. Tristan is a cold, calculating motherfucker, but he’s one of the few people in this world I’d trust with my life if I had to. That swings both ways, and we know it. We just never say it.
“Send it over.”
“Already done.” Of course it is.
“I’ll be in touch,” I tell him, ending the call.
I swiftly access the information and click on the address to ensure I'm heading in the correct direction. The estate appears isolated, and based on the aerial shot, the dead old broad must have been wealthy.
I get a tickle at the back of my neck. This instinct has saved my life more than once. I trust it. It’s alerting me that something is off or different.
Good. Maybe this job will be more entertaining or intriguing than the others.
Little did I know, I had no fucking idea how true that would be.