Page 8 of Stalk

“Around midnight.”

Catherine nods, then types the time in. “Method?”

I cringe as though I haven’t heard her askhowI murdered my target like that at least fifty times already. “Gunshot wound to the head. Sig Sauer M17X. 9 millimeter.”

This comes as no surprise to Catherine, as that gun is the one I use the most, despite having a wide variety in my arsenal.

“Place of execution?” Catherine asks nonchalantly, as though she’s simply asking me about my day.

“The little dive bar off of Fourth and Pennsylvania Southeast. In one of the single bathrooms.”

“Cameras? Security?”

“No, and it’s a pretty relaxed place. It was very busy.”

“Did you follow him in, or were you invited in?” Catherine asks casually. She knows I’m gay, and loves to assign me to the targets interested in men. Most of her assassins are female, so it’s harder for them to complete jobs on those of us who swing the other way.

“He was drunk and stumbling. I followed him in.”

She types something on her keyboard. “Did anyone see you exit?”

“No. When I left, there wasn’t anyone outside of the bathroom. I left directly after.”

Only a handful of minutes have passed by the time we’re finished covering the specifics of my last target. Without missing a beat, Catherine moves on to my next assignment. She clears her throat after taking another sip from her mug. “So, your next assignment is a bit of a short turnaround.”

Her bright eyes bore into mine, and I do my absolute best not to freak the fuck out. The days, sometimes weeks, in between my assignments are the only thing I have to look forward to. IfI don’t get a break in between, I know I won’t make it out of my situation alive. Every day is hard enough as it is. “Okay,” I say carefully. “How short of a turnaround?”

Catherine’s eyes glare ever so slightly at my question. Luckily she doesn’t berate me for asking—a small miracle. She hums as she looks at the paper calendar on her desk. “Today is Monday, so I would say… no later than Wednesday night.”

Shit.That gives me two days to prepare. At minimum, I usually have five. Suddenly, the room spins ever so slightly and I feel overheated. “Okay,” I manage to say.

I can’t help but notice the way Catherine’s red lips curve up at the sight of my apparent unease. Try as I may, my face always gives me away. She slides open the top drawer of her desk, finds the USB she’s looking for, and then passes it to me. It’s small and navy blue, with the number 609 written on the side. Each time is the same. She hands me a USB with all the information of my assignment loaded onto it. The only thing that changes is the number according to whatever case it is. I’m not sure how Catherine’s system works, and to be frank, I don’t give a damn, either.

“As always, Ren, call my private line should you need any advice or assistance.” Her words are empty. Fake. The couple of times I’ve asked her for help in the past ended in her fulfilling my assignments for me and then getting back at me by giving me even harder targets.

“Yes. Thank you, Catherine,” I murmur, trying to sound appreciative even though I’m anything but.

I pocket the USB, then come to a stand.

“I’ll see you on Thursday,” Catherine reminds me without looking away from her computer screen.

“See you then.”

A couple hours later, I’m hunched over my desk, staring at my laptop, utterly frozen in shock. My mouth dries up as the words on the screen sink in and my eyes sting uncomfortably. I want to cry, I need to cry, but more than anything, I can’t believe thatthis poor womanis my next kill.

Despite my feelings about being in the killing business, I can still usually wrap my head around thewhybehind my assignments. I can understand why a sexual predator or a skeevy businessman would be targeted, but this woman? Whoever decided to target this woman must be the worst kind of person. I reread the report in front of me again and this time, a few stray tears fall from my eyes down to my keyboard.

Helena Taylor

DOB: 08/23/1999

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Height: 5’ 2”

Weight: 95 lbs

Appearance: Long, dirty blond hair;

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