Page 3 of Blood
It’s three in the afternoon. Most of the building’s occupants are away at work, or school, or whatever it is that people who have their lives together do all day.
Bobby does not appear to have his life together. Neither do I, for that matter. It turns out that this is a convenient time for both of us.
I open the door just enough to see into the living room. There’s no visible movement in the apartment. I step inside and survey the room.
The living room is scattered with beer bottles and food wrappers. I wrinkle my nose. The galley kitchen is partially visible from where I’m standing just inside the door, and it doesn’t look much better. My apartment isn’t anything to brag about, but I can’t stand food outside the kitchen, and garbage is another level entirely.
A rustling sound meets my ears, and my head snaps towards it. It sounds like he’s in the bedroom.
I slip the gun out of its holster, creeping through the living room and down a short hallway. The bathroom is empty, the door open. The toilet is running, and I resist the urge to jiggle the handle. The bedroom door is open just a crack. The rustling sounds more like footsteps now that I’m closer.
I put my back to the wall next to the bedroom door, trying to peek around the edge like I’m on some TV crime show. TV and movies are the only point of reference I have for how a murderer should act, so I’m going with that.
My hand that holds the pistol is shaking, so I use my other hand to steady the weapon. It doesn’t help, but at close range, I shouldn’t need to be all that accurate.
I can do this. I have to.
I use the toe of my sneaker to push the door open, then spin into the open doorway, the gun pointed in front of me.
There’s a man on the bed. It’s Bobby Martinez, but he’s covered in blood. A wound on his chest is still wet with the crimson fluid. His eyes are open, lifeless.
Fuck.
3
Wolf
Thegirlhasobviouslynever seen a dead body. She’s still holding the gun, trained on Bobby, but her mouth has dropped open, her pale blue eyes wide. I suppose that’s a normal reaction for most. I’m not used to extra people showing up when I’m handling business. I’m a professional. It’s why they pay me good money to kill. I get in, get the job done, and get out. I don’t usually take on assignments that involve more than one target for that reason.
Everything has just gotten more complicated. This was supposed to be simple.
I step out from behind the closet door. I wasn’t even trying to hide. I hid in the closet when I heard the footsteps coming down the hall, a minute or so after the front door opened and never closed again. It wouldn’t have been the police, not this soon after an unwitnessed murder, but I hadn’t done anything with the body.
The girl has been so focused on Bobby Martinez’s corpse that she hasn’t looked anywhere besides the bed, but a few seconds later she catches my movement in her peripheral vision. She lets out a scream, swinging her gun around to point at me. She tries to pull the trigger, but the safety is on.
It’s kind of adorable, really. At least I know she has the balls to try and kill someone, even if she’s failing miserably. This is why we leave things to the professionals.
She mumbles a curse as she fiddles with the gun, trying to take the safety off. She’s quick—surprisingly quick—but it’s not fast enough. The safety is still on when I deftly remove the gun from her hand. I tuck it in my pants and twist her arms behind her back, holding them tight.
She struggles, but she’s no match for me. I’m 6’4”, solid muscle. She looks to be almost a foot shorter and tiny, other than her tits. I take a moment to admire them from my vantage point over her head. Those would be nice to—
“Fuck! Let me go!” She lets out a stream of curses when I turn her around toward the door.
She’s got a mouth on her, this one, but she’s keeping her voice low.
I put my lips next to her ear. “Shut up, princess. Let’s go.”
I don’t have time for games. Not ever, but certainly not now. This is a colossal mess. I’m supposed to be the professional here. But this girl is messing with everything.
Now I’m stuck in my own goddamn head. The deep blue of her eyes triggered something in me, made my mind go somewhere else entirely, and now the job I was supposed to do is shot to hell.
At my low growl, she sucks in a breath. “Please let me go. I didn’t see anything, I swear.” Her body shakes beneath my grip.
I laugh, even though none of this is amusing in the least. “I don’t believe you, princess. Now, let’s move. Keep your goddamn mouth shut, unless you want me to shut it for you.”
I leave Bobby’s still-warm body on the bed. There’s nothing that could tie me to his murder. I don’t know if she left anything behind that would implicate her, but I don’t have time to do a cleanup job. I propel her through the apartment. Despite the trash and other shit lying around, there’s not much furniture, and it makes it easier to maneuver. I peer through the open door, then haul her into the hallway. I steer her down the corridor quickly.
I need to get her out of the building before someone sees us; that would open up a whole new can of bullshit that I can’t deal with right now. The fact that I’m hauling this girl out of the apartment is bad enough. The door creaks as I open it to the stairwell. Her cursing echoes off the walls in the empty space until we spill out the emergency exit to the alley.
