Page 14 of Stalk

He nods in understanding. “This one has been a quick turnaround.Estuante.”

Yeah, it has been exhausting. Especially on top of the jet lag. I normally have much more time before having to carry out a kill, but oh well. Normally, I would watch my target for at least a week before going in, but not this time. Yesterday was spent parked outside of Helena’s apartment. The only time she left the building was to carry a large black trash bag out to the dumpster, and she immediately went back inside afterward.

Helena didn’t look good, even from afar. She is definitely malnourished from the drugs and alcohol, and I was almost worried she wouldn’t be able to dispose of her trash with her boney arms. Since yesterday, she hasn’t left her apartment. Before Marco and I turned in for the evening last night, I had Marco set up a hidden camera directly outside her apartment door so that I would know if she left.

I was tempted to go into her apartment yesterday, but I figure, what’s the point? I’ve killed junkies before, so I know what to expect. More than likely, the only activity going on in her residence is a copious amount of drinking and smoking crystal meth. Her vices act in my favor, though. If I was dealing withsomeone sober, I would definitely be doing more research and acting more cautiously.

But this one should be easy. My plan is to go in, smother her with a pillow, and call it a day. I doubt anyone will even bother to do an autopsy given her track record. There’s really no use in spending the time and energy I don’t currently have on an assignment like Helena.

“What time should we head out tonight?” Marco asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“Around seven, I think. We can grab dinner afterwards?”

Marco shakes his head and laughs for the first time this morning. “You really are fucked, boss man.”

Helena doesn’t leave her apartment at all throughout the day. The camera feed becomes so boring to watch, that I eventually nod off while sitting upright in my bed. I should have known better than to watch the feed on my laptop in bed while already groggy, but whatever. I always set an alarm on my phone an hour and a half prior to when I’ve decided to begin the assassination process, so my alarm wakes me up from my slumber at five thirty.

I go back to the camera feed and scroll through the hour or so I missed while I was napping to make sure Helena hasn’t left.Once I know she’s still inside, I force my lazy ass up. It’s time to prepare.

There’s no use in taking a shower—I always take one after the job is done. But I always follow the same pre-kill ritual, no matter who I’ve been assigned to execute. No matter where or why. Call me superstitious, but I believe as long as I follow my routine, I’ll have no complications. My ritual has never failed me thus far.

First, I make my way into the bathroom and wash my face. I usually use lukewarm water, because it’s better for your skin, but needing to wake the fuck up, I make sure the water is just below scalding. After I pat my face dry, I strip out of my gray sweatpants and move back into the bedroom to put on my killing attire. I always,alwayswear all black so that I don’t stand out, but also so I can blend into the shadows if I ever get caught and need to run.

For tonight, I choose my favorite pair of black jeans, a V-neck, and my all black tennis shoes—because though boots would look better, they can be loud. I had to learn that lesson the hard way. After I’m dressed, I secure my knife holster on my left ankle and my gun holster on my right, then I place the weapons inside and ensure they’re perfectly strapped in. Though I seriously plan on suffocating Helena, you never know when a weapon may be needed. I was trained to have more weapons on hand rather than less, but I think just the two will do for tonight.

Once I’m dressed and armed, I take my small crossbody bag out from my suitcase. Honestly, a fanny pack would fit everything I need inside, but I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one. I make sure I have everything I need inside—several pairs of black latex gloves, a ski mask, a hook pick for any locked doors I may need to open, a taser, and a thing of SABRE pepper spray. I zip up the bag after pocketing a pair of the gloves.

I still have about an hour until I need to be at the apartment, but I’ll have Marco get me there a little early so I can scope things out. I send him a text asking him to be ready to go in twenty minutes, then start a pot of coffee. No matter how late my assignments take place, I always have at least one cup before rolling out.

I already checked in with Zìa earlier in the day, so all I have to do now is kill time. Once my coffee is brewed and poured, I sit down at the small dining table beside the kitchenette and decide to text Rachel, the cute manager of the hotel.

Once the text is sent asking her to dinner tomorrow night, my nerves spike. Funny how getting ready to literally assassinate someone doesn’t do much to my nervous system, but asking a pretty woman out on a date always gives me an insane adrenaline rush. Not that I mind right now, though. All it does is help me wake up. I’ve just taken my first sip of coffee when a text pops up on my screen from Rachel. Like an adolescent boy, I grin from ear to ear as we exchange a few texts back and forth to finalize our plans. I let her choose the restaurant, seeing as I have no idea what’s good around here. Soon enough, we’re all set to meet up tomorrow night.

Nervousness washes over me once our plans are set in stone. I haven’t been on a date in like, six months? Maybe longer?That’s pathetic. I force a large breath and shake my head, forcing my nerves to fall away. It’s not like I’ve ever had issues attracting the ladies, after all. It’s just been a while since I’ve been interested enough to pursue anything.

Before I know it, there’s a light knock on my door, signaling that it’s go time. I guess my nerves about going out on a date will have to be put on hold. At least until my assignment is over and done with.

Marco pulls into a parking spot at a gas station down the road from Helena’s apartment complex at three minutes till seven. In silence, I double and triple check that I have everything that I need, and then unbuckle my seat belt.

“You know the plan?” I ask him with a grin.

“Il solito?”Marco asks with a quirked eyebrow.

I nod.The usual.Meaning, once I’m out of the car, he’ll take a few laps around the block, keeping an eye on the entrance in case we need to make a quick exit. If he doesn’t see me in fifteen minutes, we’ve decided that he’ll park a few blocks away, in a pay by the hour garage. So long as everything goes well, I’ll meet him there within the hour, and then we’ll go out for food and drinks. You know, just a typical evening at work.

“Buona fortuna,”Marco says, wishing me good luck as I hop out of the car.

The muggy air kisses the apples of my cheeks and the span of my neck as soon as I’m outside. The sun is still bright, but starting to go down. The city streets are as busy as ever with people walking to dinner or getting off from work late. It’s better that the streets are congested—makes it much easier for me to blend into the background—as though I belong here in this city.

I cross the street and take a right down the sidewalk, and in seconds I’m outside of Helena’s apartment complex. I pause outside of the front door, but don’t linger long. It’s not like there’s any security in place for this building. It’s too old, too outdated. Toolow class.The way Americans treat some of their own people makes my stomach flip, but I don’t have time to dwell on my opinions. Instead, I walk straight inside.

Thereisan elevator, but I don’t trust it. That, and my chances of running into no one is higher if I take the stairs. Unless the elevator is broken or just for show. I move past the elevator, walking at a casual pace, until I see a door with a sign that shows stairs. The heavy door slams roughly behind me, and I cringe at the sound. Once I’m on the stairs, I pick up my pace, taking two stairs at a time until I’m on the fifth floor.

After making it to the main hallway, I walk slowly and quietly, but no one else is in sight. Aside from some music playing in a nearby apartment behind closed doors, it’s quiet. As I slink toward Helena’s unit, I can’t help but gag a little at the smell of the building. It’s like a combination of old skunk weed, the mustiness of hidden mold, with a faint odor of something rotten. After I gag, I breathe it in forcefully, making myself get used to it so that it doesn’t distract me in any way.

Near the end of the hallway, I stop outside of Helena’s door. I take a steadying breath. Straighten my spine. Then I bend, placing an ear to the door. After counting to twenty and hearing absolutely nothing on the inside, my hand wraps around the doorknob. Lightly, I test it, seeing if it’s open or locked.

I wish I could say I’m surprised to find the door unlocked, but I’m not. Carefully, I twist it all the way and then open the door gradually, centimeter by centimeter, until I can squeeze my way through.

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