KillerBlonde

by Hart, Eve R.

  “It’s not, I just love torturing you.”

  “Asshole,” he grunted. “Fine. Here. Tomorrow.”

  Then he was gone. I watched as he shook his head all the way to the door.

  Twenty-four hours later, I had everything he could gather. There wasn’t a single thing that told me this job wasn’t my right up my alley. I mean, this guy was no fucking good. And Dalton hadn’t hesitated to show me what he did to innocent people that got in his way. Granted, I’d had contracts for far worse people before, but he was definitely one that I wouldn’t mind taking out.

  “So, you’re taking it?” Dalton asked me referring to the contract as he lifted the beer bottle to his lips. I was about to remind him that he hated drinking here when he must have remembered himself. Suddenly, the bottle hit the table with a loud thump. “This fuckin’ bar.”

  “I don’t see a reason not to. It’s a job and things are a little slow now.” I gave a little shrug. “Idle hands and all that.”

  He chuckled and shook his head at me.

  “I don’t think that saying really applies to you. You do the devil’s work just to stay busy.”

  “That’s not the point,” I said with a smile.

  “You sure?”

  “Besides,” I said with a smirk this time, “how many people can say they love their job as much as I do?”

  “You don’t love your job, you’re good at it,” he shot back. “You love the money. And the fact that it helps you work out whatever fucked up shit you got going on in that head of yours. I don’t believe for a second that the first time you picked up a gun, you had killing people in mind.”

  “Well, I can’t tell you that you’re wrong. But what does it matter now? I’m here. I’m good. And yeah, my pockets are plenty full.”

  “Be careful with this one,” he told me in a low tone. “He’s got the FBI’s attention.”

  “I’m not even going to ask how you know that,” I said with a shake of my head. “And I’m always careful.”

  His face said he didn’t believe me.

  I was. Usually. I mean, sometimes things got a little out of hand and I had to adapt. I always made it work and so far, I hadn’t been caught. That was the most important part.

  “How many more years you got in you?” he asked and his face turned serious— well, more serious than it normally was.

  I hadn’t thought of it, honestly. Health-wise, I could probably do this another twenty or thirty years. But did I really want to be doing this sort of thing for that long? I imagined not. I couldn’t even fathom the amount of money I’d have if I did keep it up for that many years. More than one person needed, for damn sure. Even with me taking care of my sister and mom, that would leave me well padded. As much as I liked having the extra dough, I wasn’t that greedy. But how many more jobs did I plan to take on? How many more did I want to do? How many more bodies did I want to add to my list?

  “I don’t know. Why?” I shot him a confused look.

  “Cause I want to know how many years until I can retire.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re not that old.” He was only about five years older than me. Early forties wasn’t even close to being senior status.

  “No, but I want to enjoy what’s left of my youth.”

  “I think youth might be pushing it,” I said with a chuckle.

  “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

  “Because, if it wasn’t for me you’d be bored all the time,” I told him with a wide smile as I got to my feet. “I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Just my luck,” I heard him mumble as I walked off.

  Job confirmed.

  Target acquired.

  Now, it was time to track down this guy and take him out.

  Interview

  Part 4

  “Miss Fowler, you want me to believe that you didn’t know anything about Mr. Ramos and what he did?”

  “No. I figured he had a bunch of businesses that didn’t have a problem bringing in money.”

  “I find that hard to believe. The FBI has been after him for nearly a year now and you’re telling me that you never saw anything to indicate he wasn’t what he seemed?”

  -9-

  Jessica

  The problem with dating a killer was… I was dating a fucking killer!

  I mean, hello!

  What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

  That was the question that kept popping in my mind over and over again with red flashing lights and warning sirens going off behind it.

  Months I’d been with Ray and I didn’t have a clue. Not even a hint. And I wasn’t even blonde enough to let my brain convince me that he’d done it just once. The way he talked as if he’d merely gotten rid of an annoying bug was proof that it meant nothing to him. That he’d done it before and he’d do it again in the blink of an eye.

  It was okay.

  Really.

  I’d had to deal with shit as fucked up as this before and I lived through it. This would be no different.

  By the next day, there hadn’t been anything said about the go-bag that I’d gotten together. That made me think that there weren’t any cameras. Or there weren’t any in the bedroom at least.

  With that in mind, I began to search the bedroom for any clue or hardcore proof that I could take with me. There had to be something. Maybe I was just looking for a way to feed my curiosity. I had this need to know what exactly it was that he was into. Which seemed to be what I was into now.

  Fucking great.

  If anything, I could go to the cops or maybe the FBI. It wasn’t something I was super excited about, especially given my rapport with law enforcement, but if they could offer me protection and maybe even a new name, I was all in.

  Carefully and methodically, I went through all his drawers, pulling out one row of socks at a time before putting them back. Then his underwear. I ran my fingers along the inside edges in hopes of finding a false bottom, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t be that simple. I even got on my hands and knees and twisted until I could see the underpart of each drawer.

  Nothing.

  Not one fucking thing.

  I moved on to his shoes. It was a weird thing to look through but you just never knew what strange place someone might hide things. I once knew a man that taped his most valuable things to the underside part of the lid for a toilet tank. I mean, he put them in like three plastic sealed bags, but still. I wouldn’t have thought to check there, that was for sure. I always wondered if he thought of those seven little trinkets every time he took a piss.

  Just for good measure, I ran into the bathroom and checked the under part of the toilet tank lid.

  Of course there wasn’t anything there. No, I had to think like Ray would. Only I didn’t know how the real Ray would think. Because I didn’t fucking know the real Ray!

  I tiptoed back over to the closet. I went crazy checking pockets on jackets and pants, coming up empty every time. Not even a candy wrapper or a receipt. Was that the kind of thing the dry cleaners took care of? I had no clue but I could see it with the kind of money that Ray had. He probably paid extra for something like that. Or was he one of those people that didn’t leave anything behind? Was he so paranoid that he left nothing to be found? I should have known these things, I really should have. I tried to think about the nights we went to dinner. I was maybe sidetracked by all the nice places he’d taken me. I did remember watching him signing for the bill a few times, but he never did pick up his copy.

  Hmmm.

  Weird that I’d never really thought of that before. Or paid attention to it. I guess it wasn’t really that strange of a thing. I was one of those people that made sure to keep my receipts as a reminder of how much I’d spent. But I guess when you had as much money as a guy like Ray did, you didn’t really need to worry about that sort of thing.

  Finally, I gave up on the closet, moving to the bed next. I lifted the mattress, which wasn’t easy to do by myself. I struggled to hold it up as I searched
for any sign that the fabric had been torn or cut. With a shake of my head, I lowered it back down into place and fixed the sheets.

  I checked every single inch of that bedroom and came up with exactly nothing.

  His office.

  Why didn’t I think of that sooner?

  If he had anything important, it would be kept in the one room he asked me not to go in. Well, fuck. How the hell was I supposed to go in there to search without anyone knowing? I was willing to risk it at this point.

  The annoying, stupid bodyguard was sitting in the living room, or so that’s where he was the last time I had seen him. Granted, that was last night but he didn’t seem like the kind to go checking for me. Like as long as he had the one exit covered, that was good enough for him.

  The office was at the end of the hall. If he was sitting on one of the couches, then he couldn’t see down the hall. I could slip down there really quietly and shut myself in.

  So far, he hadn’t come to look for me and I couldn’t see that changing. It was clear that he didn’t give a fuck about me unless I tried to escape.

  I opened the door and listened. The place was almost silent. If I held my breath, I could hear the low murmur of the TV in the living room. I softly closed the bedroom door behind me and quickly made my way down the hall.

  I tried the handle and found it odd that it turned. It did cross my mind for a second that this was all a setup. But I was in it now, no way in hell I was going to turn back.

  I began with the desk because that seemed like the most obvious choice. I rifled through drawer after drawer only to find the whole thing completely empty. What the fuck? That was just not normal. Well, I supposed that there probably wasn’t a lot of paperwork involved in dealing or whatever he was into. I thought real hard on it. How would someone keep track of all that shit? There had to be stuff to keep track of, right? Wow, I was really out of my element here.

  My mind flashed back to the motorcycle club.

  Guns and drugs or whatever illegal thing it might have been wasn’t all that different as far as moving the merchandise. I imagined that it had to be pretty much the same. There was a ledger they kept. That was probably one of the things I wasn’t supposed to know about, but I did anyway. It wasn’t like I was going to use it against them. Granted, moving underground guns wasn’t exactly legal, but the men of the MC never looked as though they might kill me if something didn’t go their way. They weren’t monsters. They didn’t make veiled threats that had the evil undertone that even innocent people weren’t safe as long as it sent a message. And that was what made this situation different.

  There had been something that I’d seen in Ray’s eyes, for just a split second when he came out of his office after being surprised that I was there. It might have taken me a little while to realize that I had, but it was there. This deadly look that said he wouldn’t hesitate to do what he had to if I looked like a threat. I’d seen the true him right there and I couldn’t ignore it. He was the type that got his way no matter what.

  That was why he’d kept me here, secluded for a reason. I saw it now. He had kept his true self hidden from me because he was afraid I’d run if I ever found out. And he was right. If I knew what he really did, then I’d know the real man behind the sweet, loving boyfriend mask. That was the reason he hid it so well because I was too strong to stay with a man like that.

  Well, shit.

  I guess I’d gotten it wrong this whole time.

  I wasn’t really fooling him. He was simply letting me play my role to see how far I’d take it. Yeah, I knew I was caught now. And there was nothing I could say to wiggle my way out of it. It was only a matter of time before he called me on it.

  -10-

  Silas

  I caught up with my target at one of his businesses. It looked like some sort of nightclub but it wasn’t flashy. The sign on the outside was simple enough. I only guessed it was a nightclub by the bouncer at the door and the way the women walking into the place were dressed. There was only a handful but it was enough to figure shit out. It wasn’t an upscale one and it didn’t look like it was trying to be. This area of town, there was no way to pull off trying to make any place other than a rundown, shady establishment. I’d seen it done too many times before. This place probably didn’t make that much money. No, it was for hiding money.

  I went back and forth for a good ten minutes on whether I should go in or not. The way I was dressed, I decided against it. Maybe if I’d worn jeans and a tee-shirt. A suit would stick out at this place and the last thing I needed was to be noticed.

  There was no need to rush this job. The longer I dragged it out, the longer I’d have something to occupy my mind. It was a lame excuse but it was what I had at the moment. Besides, there was no reason for me to get sloppy now.

  As much as I wanted to watch him and see what he was up to, my curiosity wasn’t worth it. He was just like all the others. I doubted his actions would be anything new to me.

  Fuck, I was tired. The drive here was too long and I didn’t break it up enough. I could have flown and maybe I should have. I’d done it before when I had to get straight across the country. I didn’t have a time limit on this contract so I wasn’t worried about making it here in a flash. That said, I forgot how much I hated long trips in a car. I imagined it would be better with someone riding along but that wasn’t an option. Not only did I not have that many friends, but I also couldn’t even imagine how you’d ask someone to go along for something like that.

  “Hey, you want to ride with me to go kill someone? Oh, don’t worry, he’s a bad guy. Yeah, a real piece of shit and probably won’t be missed. So, you up for it?”

  No wonder I didn’t have any friends. Fucking hell.

  I blinked away the sleepiness that was trying to weigh down my eyelids.

  For being such a kingpin, this guy was boring.

  After he left the nightclub, he headed to his house on the outskirts of the city. I had that address and even an aerial view of what the house looked like. Once I figured that was the direction he was headed, I backed off a little so he wouldn’t notice he was being followed.

  I wondered if his wife knew what he did. It took a special kind of person to not, I guessed. Like how could you live with someone and not know there was some shady shit going on? Did she think about where all that money came from? Perhaps she didn’t care. I’d seen it enough before.

  Look, I had no room to talk. I realized that. My sister and mother didn’t have a clue about what I got paid to do. But they weren’t in my life every day. They didn’t share a house with me. They weren’t around to see the horrible hours I was up and weird trips I randomly took at the last minute.

  Yeah, it was probably a good thing I was still alone. While I might have been able to fool my mom and sister, I didn’t think I was smooth enough to pull it off with a partner. Plus, I felt like shit about it. Every time I talked to my family, I felt like the biggest asshole ever. I was lying to them. And while I got that it was something that had to be done, it didn’t sit right with my soul.

  I left my target once most of the lights went off in the house. There was no sense sitting here all night waiting for nothing. If he was going to get some shut-eye, then I was too.

  I was parking in front of his house right before dawn the next day. The house still seemed silent.

  Damn, this guy had a huge house. No wonder he lived on the outer rim of the city. You couldn’t find something like that any closer. Shame he wouldn’t be around to enjoy it much longer. I mean, not really.

  Then I was thinking about his wife again. Not in some weird, creepy way. I never gave much thought to people like her. I just always assumed they were part of it too and they got off easy in the end. But I supposed there were people out there that could love no matter what. Like it didn’t matter that he’d killed a shit-ton of people and whatever. Love surpassed all or something.

  And yeah, I did realize that most of what ran through my head at times like t
hese I could apply to myself too. I didn’t like to consider myself in the same category as most of the people I took out, but I knew I wasn’t far from it. I didn’t have some high-and-mighty attitude about what I did. I simply didn’t like to think about it most of the time.

  This day was much of the same as yesterday. Same actions, different backgrounds. I was bored already.

  But day three changed everything.

  It wasn’t until later in the afternoon did it look like things were going to get interesting. And man, was I right.

  I followed him to a warehouse. I would have said it was abandoned given the location and the fact that everything around it looked as if it hadn’t seen any kind of human life for ten years. However, the building he parked in front of stuck out like a sore thumb with its lack of crumbling walls, broken windows, and vine-covered siding. It looked new, in fact. I hung back so I wouldn’t be noticed. Honestly, I was a little surprised that I hadn’t been spotted already. It didn’t seem like a lot of people traveled this route.

  Then again, there were a number of cars parked around the building and men walking around accessorized with automatic rifles. So, yeah. I’d hit jackpot, only it wasn’t really what I had been looking for. I knew what kind of man he was already. I knew he was the largest importer and supplier of heroin in the state.

  I wasn’t here to find out what he did, I was here to kill him. Something I didn’t think I’d be able to do at this location, there were simply too many people around. But that didn’t mean that I got to leave. I had to study his movements and get to know him before I could make the right move.

  I chose the closest abandoned building to hide my car behind. Fingers crossed that no one would be coming down the crumbled trail because if they did, they’d see it right away.

  The only way for me to stay unseen was to find some high up position in this fucking falling down excuse for a building. And since there was no ladder anywhere, I had to climb the wall. Lucky for me, there were a bunch of holes in it already. I just had to worry about the loose cinder blocks giving way under my weight as I made my way up. The row of upper windows spanned the entire length of the building. Most importantly, there was a ledge that was barely big enough for me to lay on.