TWENTY-SEVEN - ROMAN #3
The neighborhood was quiet, peaceful, unknowing of what was about to take place—the next First 48.
Houses in this part of town were fucking massive—antebellum style, with front porches bigger than any apartment I’d ever lived in, and had columns that soared two, sometimes three stories tall.
Most of the yards were secured behind a brick and wrought iron wall, some with gated entry. Not this one.
Every professionally manicured lawn offered enough mature trees and land between them to keep nosey neighbors from knowing all of your business.
Especially in the dark. And this time of night, most of these folks were well on their way to la-la land, dreaming about stocks and bonds and quarterly bonuses.
I sat on my bike, parked beside the curb beneath a magnolia tree that was probably as old as the city, rooted just at the edge of the property line.
What few seconds I had left before go-time was spent trying to convince myself that this would all be worth it in the long haul. He had his reasons; I had mine.
The stage had been set—all I had to do was walk on, find my target, pull the trigger, get back on my bike, and follow the highway home. Go back to Nashville. Except this time with an entirely new life and a padded wallet. Simple enough.
Unfortunately, there were a lot of what-ifs involved.
Like, what if I got caught? I’m shit out of luck.
Though Ivan reassured me I wouldn’t. Or what if this guy I was supposed to take out wasn’t home?
He will be. What if he wasn’t where he was supposed to be?
And I get caught? Again, Ivan had studied his every move. He’ll be there. Trust me.
I pulled the collar of my leather jacket tighter up around my neck and took in a deep breath of cold air, reminding myself this could be my last. Ready or not.
Right on time, Ivan’s car slowly rolled by. The driver’s-side blacked-out window slid down as he came to a rolling stop. Without an exchanged word, I reached out and into his window, taking the gun from his barely outstretched hand. As he drove off, I tucked it into my waistband behind my back.
Brake lights flashed in my side mirror. Once. Twice. This was it, the moment I’d lost every wink of sleep over for the last thirty-something hours.
I rested my bike on its kickstand, swung my leg over, then made my way up the edge of the driveway to the side entry door. As per Ivan, I could see the shadowy outline of my target fumbling around the kitchen, probably tidying things up, getting ready to call it a night.
A part of me felt like I’d been set up, like this night was by design because it all felt way too easy. Another part of me thought maybe Ivan really just knew this guy well and had beef with him that he didn’t want to handle himself, which wouldn’t surprise me.
Either way, none of that mattered. My job was to pull the trigger, not ask questions. Not out loud, anyway.
I backed off and stood on a strip of grass that ran alongside the driveway, trying to stay lost in the shadows. I hid in the darkness, just beyond the beam of light that illuminated from the kitchen window.
I watched the large, shadowy figure move past the door.
The kitchen light turned off. I was about to make my move until the side door flung open, and I almost shit my pants.
My feet sunk down into the soft grass as I carefully and quietly took two steps backward, pressing my back flat against the wooden fence.
Someone came out with a bag full of trash and tossed it into a can beside the door.
I didn’t get a good look at him because, one, I was wearing my helmet, and two, I’d gotten out of the way as fast as fucking possible. I could only assume he was my target.
The door closed as the man went back inside.
The porch light went off, shrouding the driveway in pitch-black darkness.
I knew I had to move even faster now. Per Ivan, I had less than thirty seconds to unlock that door and get inside before the security alarm had been set for the night once the kitchen light had gone off.
He didn’t account for the trash being taken out.
I secured my helmet firmly on my head and pulled the mirrored face shield up so I could see. As I stepped up to the door, I adjusted my leather gloves tighter onto my hands and got to work.
I’d picked a lot of locks in my time, long before this moment, so I was confident unlocking this door was going to be a walk in the park. A few slips of my tool, and bingo. The handle turned, and the door opened with ease. I carefully stepped inside the house and closed the door behind me.
The house was mostly dark, save for a few night-lights sprinkled throughout, shining a warm, soft glow in little pockets—the formal dining room, eat-in kitchen, and one on the far side in what I could only assume was the living room.
My instructions were to enter through the side door, make my way around the front of the house near the front door—my exit point—and catch the target before he went to bed.
If I stayed at the bottom of the staircase, I wouldn’t have any issues spotting my target or making my exit.
Seeing as how things had already gone askew when my target had decided to take out the trash, I wasn’t entirely confident that the rest of this assignment would go off without a single hitch.
Too late now. I was already inside his house.
I just fucking prayed that I wasn’t the one who ended up shot for breaking and entering.
I held my breath as I rounded the corner into the living room.
I stood silently in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to make my next move.
I watched my target as he appeared on the far side of the house, then as he started to make his way down a long hallway that led toward what I’d been told was his bedroom.
His back was to me as he walked away, but there was a familiar feeling to him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
I pulled my face shield down over my eyes as I reached for the gun I had tucked behind my back.
It was already unlocked, loaded, and ready for action.
Ivan said there wouldn’t be time for safety.
He was right. My window of opportunity was small and shrinking with each step my target took away from me.
With an outstretched arm, I aimed my gun chest level at my target.
“Showtime,” I finally spoke out loud before he disappeared into his bedroom.
When I said the words, the man stopped and turned around. “Excuse me?”
Bang.
One shot, no hesitation, no questions.
That was it. My job was done.
Except I didn’t feel relief.
I felt…confused. And sadness. Anger. So much anger. All the wrong emotions washed over me.
And for the second time in my life, I wanted to kill Ivan. I didn’t know exactly why I felt that way…yet.
I watched as my target clutched onto his chest, blood pooling over the front of his white cotton T-shirt, slowly running between his fingers and down his forearms.
Then recognition hit me like a bolt of fucking lightning as he fell to his knees.
I’d been set up to take out the only man I’d ever trusted and respected besides my own brother.
I’d just shot and killed Elliott.
I’d been set up.
I stood frozen solid in fear when I was supposed to be quietly slipping out through the front door to jump back on my bike, swinging past Ivan, who would be parked in the same spot as earlier, and swapping out my gun for a backpack full of cash, then heading east.
But I couldn’t move.
All I could do was watch as one of the best men I’d ever known took his last breath on this Earth, all because of me.
As my brain tried to process the million and one thoughts running through it, the sound of a female’s voice let out a blood-curdling scream, piercing through the static white noise. It was the scream of someone who should never have been in the house because I was assured my target would be alone.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I glanced up the stairs into the darkness just as the only woman I’d ever loved stopped midway, clutching onto the railing, screaming, staring down at her dad, who was now lying face down on the hallway floor.
I stood tucked myself behind the stage curtain and scanned the crowd. So far, nothing seemed obviously out of the ordinary. We had a room full of smiling faces, lost in conversation, booming laughter, most everyone with a drink or plate of food in hand.
Jameson gently tapped the mic to grab the audience’s attention.
“Um, hi. Good evening, everyone.” The room fell silent as she began to speak. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m a bit nervous, well, for obvious reasons, and I didn’t write down any notes.”
She nervously glanced around the room. As she turned her head, she caught a glimpse of me out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulders relaxed as soon as she spotted me. She smiled softly.
I didn’t return the gesture.
My gaze cut away from James and locked in on Ivan.
There’s been a change in plans.