Chapter 4
The only sounds in the cold and otherwise empty office building are the clicking of my expensive leather shoes on the ceramic tiles and the fast, uneven steps of the nervous security guards following me. It is nine p.m., after office hours, and all the hard-working employees have already gone home. The only ones left are my client”s private security guards, and they know better than to try and stop me; the last time they did, two of them ended up in the hospital.
I halt in front of a tall office door with a sign that reads Chairman, Mr. Williams. To be honest, I could think of a lot of better things to do than pay this old fuck a visit. But I can”t let this slide for too long, and he owes me some answers for sending me to this disaster of a job. I glance at the two guards behind me. Both of them flinch, turning away, pretending they weren”t looking at me. There”s nothing more satisfying than seeing the fear in someone”s eyes, especially when you”re the reason for it.
I turn my attention back to the door in front of me and don’t hesitate. Without announcing my entrance, I force the door open. A group of older men appear in front of me, sitting around the conference table in the center of the room, all of them startled by the sudden intrusion of their meeting. I step inside and shut the door behind me, making sure to lock the door to the office to prevent the security guards from entering.
Walking up to the large table, I unbutton my suit jacket in one fluid motion, giving the men in front of me a clear view of the pistol safely tucked into my chest holster. The ones closest to me jump, pushing their chairs farther back to get away from me, but no matter how far they push, if I wanted to, I could kill each of them with a single shot. A small smirk pulls at the corner of my lips. These men are all the same. They want to play with the big boys, they want to be perceived as dangerous, and they hire hitmen to get rid of their opponents. But in the end, they are just as scared of us as the people they hire us to kill.
”Mr. Holman, to what do we owe this rather unexpected visit?” The man at the head of the table, Mr. Williams, speaks, breaking the awkward silence. He rises from his chair, trying to hide his fear from the other men present. But I can see through his fa?ade. He’s scared.
”I”m here to discuss some important matters regarding my job,” I say in a harsh tone that underlines the seriousness of the situation.
”Can”t you see I”m busy? How about we postpone our chat until a little later?” He suggests, spreading his arms as he gestures to the men around the conference table to emphasize that he is busy.
I roll my eyes in annoyance. ”I don”t care.” Mr. Williams flinches and looks between the men sitting in front of him. But before he can say anything more, I intervene. ”They can stay; for your own good, it’s better there are witnesses present.”
”Of course,” Mr. Williams says, lowering himself back into his chair. ”Where is the body?” he asks, his voice cracking with nervousness.
I let out a half-hearted laugh of amusement. ”As you can see, not here.” My laugh fades as quickly as it came. The look on Mr. Williams’s face changes from fear and confusion to something else: irritation, perhaps even anger.
”What? You failed?” The old man raises his voice, causing everyone around him to freeze.
I slam my hands down on the table, supporting my body weight while keeping a straight, serious expression on my face. ”Well, it seems you failed to inform me of some very important information.” I raise my voice as well. ”Like the fact that her apartment had fucking bullet-resistant windows!”
”You’re supposed to be the best, and that’s what stopped you?” Mr. Williams continues to speak with his voice raised. I take a deep breath. It takes all my strength to resist the itching in my hands to reach for my pistol and put a bullet in his brain for daring to raise his voice at me. If there is one thing I hate, it is disrespect.
”Mr. Williams, do I need to remind you that you chose not to hire my full service?” I raise my eyebrows and see the realization cross the man”s face. ”You hired me to pull the trigger.”
Mr. Williams is getting nervous, and I notice drops of sweat forming on his forehead. His anger turns to nervous frustration. ”You should have killed that bitch anyway.”
I straighten my posture and begin to walk around the table. All eyes are on me. The room is silent and tense as they don”t know what my next move will be. ”I only do what I am paid to do.” I stop behind Mr. Williams’s chair. The man flinches when I place my hands on his shoulders. ”We”re going to do this my way now. You will pay the full price, plus a little compensation for my wasted time.” I squeeze the man”s shoulders and feel him tense up under my touch.
”And who do you think you are to decide that? I will just hire someone else to kill her!” He manages to stutter through his fear.
A devilish grin finds its way to my lips as I lean down to speak right into Mr. Williams’s ear. ”No one in their right mind will take this job once they hear my name.” I squeeze his shoulders harder, drawing a painful whimper from the old man. ”You want to know what happened to the last person who tried that?” I scoff, and the man shakes his head. ”I delivered all the bodies of my fellow hitmen to his house…for his wife and children to see,” I lean even closer. ”And I cut off one of his hands as punishment.”
I push myself up, balancing all my weight on his shoulders. My gaze wanders around the room, making sure to get a good look at everyone present. There are many familiar faces, both fellow clients as well as men who are on my hit list; they just don”t know it yet. I then turn my attention back to Mr. Williams. ”I”ll send you the bill, and as soon as I get the money, she”s dead.” I give him a playful pat on the cheek. Then shove him down and walk back around the table, heading for the door.
Before taking my leave, I turn back to the group of men behind me. ”It”s always a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Williams,” I say with a grin on my face before unlocking the door and walking out.
Not having to fight a grown man and a weeping woman made getting into the apartment much easier than the last time. Judging by the state of their mailbox downstairs, the poor couple hasn”t been home in a while. I don”t blame them; having someone break in in the middle of the night, tie you up and gag you just to use your balcony to open fire must be traumatizing to normal people.
Keeping the lights off, I make my way to the small kitchen and open their fridge. To my surprise, there are some drinks in there that I enjoy. Ignoring the rotting vegetables and meat, I grab a can of beer and head toward the balcony. With a quick flick, I unlock the metal hook and step outside. Opening the can of beer, I lean against the railing and look down at the still busy and noisy streets. This city never sleeps. How annoying. I hate this damn place. The constant exposure to the cacophony of noise, constantly morphing, and the flickering lights are suffocating. Every time I”m here, I feel like I”m drowning. This is not a place to live. I don”t understand how anyone could choose to settle down here. Now, I understand that living in the city has its perks, and I”m willing to acknowledge them; personally, I just prefer to live in a peaceful neighborhood with no major distractions.
I turn my attention to the reason I”m here: her apartment. The lights are on. From this distance, I can”t make out many details, but I can see a figure moving through the place. I take a big gulp from the can in my hand, and the taste of cheap beer tickles my tongue. I suppose cheap beer is better than nothing.
I grab the binoculars strapped to my chest holster and lift them to my face. I search her apartment before fully focusing my attention on her. I nearly choke on the air I”m breathing when I see her body wrapped in nothing but a soft towel, her hair still damp from the shower she must have finished not long ago. She is standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine.
My eyes roam over her naked skin; her collarbone, her arms, her legs, her skin, pale and smooth, not a goddamn imperfection in sight. Even though she has worked in the same business I have for years; she doesn’t have a single mark that could possibly reveal her past and the terrible things she has done. I want to see more. I want to know if she is as pure and flawless as I want her to be, or if she is hiding something under that useless little towel that covers her most private parts just enough to keep them from my prying eyes. I bite my lower lip. The thought of her naked body alone makes my heart beat faster with excitement and sends a rush of blood between my legs, a mix of sensations I haven”t felt in months.
She turns and heads back to her sofa, her backside coming into view. My eyes roam over the perfect curve of her spine until they settle on what I think is my favorite part of her body, her ass. Her cheeks peek out as she moves, and the towel begins to slide up ever so slightly.
The taste of blood brings me back to reality. Damn. I bit my lip. Sucking on the small wound, I draw in more of the metallic taste filling my mouth. I”m a fucking pervert. I have never stalked a woman like this before. It”s wrong, and I shouldn”t do it, but she is special. Even though I haven”t received the money yet, I just can”t let go. I”m drawn to her, and I want to look at her every chance I get. I want to know more about her.
She makes herself comfortable on the sofa, covering herself with a fluffy blanket. I guess I won”t get to see more of her tonight, which is a shame. As she starts to surf the TV channels, I use the boring moment to lower my binoculars. I grab one of the cheap patio chairs and move it closer to the railing to make myself comfortable. I take another sip of beer before turning my attention back to her. A smile spreads across my face when she turns her head toward the windows and looks directly at the balcony on which I”m sitting. Finally, she noticed me.