Page 52 of Hitch
I ignore him, venturing back out into the afternoon sun. I text Sed again, confirming our rescheduled meeting, where I’m supposed to ‘teach him how to harvest and dehydrate.’ An hour later, I send him a text,I’m out in the cornfield. Come meet me out here.
If he knows anything about mushroom growing, he’ll know that the cornfield isn’t where we need to be for our lesson. But an order is an order, and this is his last one.
I’m digging a ditch between the crops when his shadow falls over me. He’s a scrawny one, late twenties, all bones and muscle. Acne spread across his nose. He passes for a nerdy delivery man; no one suspects he’s moving drugs for us.
The thing about Todd’s hires is that they’re all without family, lonesome men out in the world, people no one’s going to miss. Men who keep to themselves. We learned the hard way after I killed Braden’s crush. Her family came looking for her and it was a mess for a while. Braden never forgave me for it. But we agreed: you don’t hire a talker in our line of work. You hire someone who keeps to themselves. Someone who won’t be missed.
If I had any empathy inside of me, guilt would consume me for what I’m about to do, but I’ve been doing this my whole life. I killed for the first time as a teenager, hunting someone who disrespected my father, a pathetic attempt to prove my value to the ranch. But even then, I knew the truth about the world. Life always ends. My time will come, and so will Reggie’s.
She’s a loose end, one I ought to take care of.
“What’s up?” Sed asks, breaking into my thoughts. “Todd said—”
I swing the shovel across his head, knocking him down to the ground. The metal cuts into his forehead, and the blood cakes up, all muddy at the gash. He’s out cold, but before I can test that theory, I take the metal end of the shovel, using it to bash his head in until it’s flattened like a corn cake. There’s no way a man can survive something like that.
Blood mixes with the dirt and loose leaves from the fields. I kick his body into the ditch.
His corpse crumples at the bottom like a sack of potatoes. I’ll head to the butcher’s shop soon. Get some offal and bones to bury above his body. Throw off the scent should any sniffing dogs come around these parts.
One down, two to go.
I wait for the stillness to overwhelm me. Killing has always given order and clarity to the world, like death gave life meaning.
But right now, nothing calms me. All I see is Todd touching my woman.Myfucking woman.
But Todd’s right. Business comes first. That rule alone will save his life… for now.
But then another image flashes across my mind.Michael.Her old sugar daddy.
I flick through the history of Reggie’s GPS coordinates for the last month. She visited someone in Oakdale recently, which must’ve been when she visited him. After I take care of the ditch, it’s nightfall, and I drive my pickup down to Oakdale, taking my time. Reggie texts me a selfie with her tits hanging out—her areolas puffy and begging for my mouth, a sexy little smile on her face. She’s so fucking gorgeous—how could she date this fucker for five years, and put up with his disrespectful behavior?
She was paid, sure. It was her job.
But goddamn, I hate the thought of anyone, even a client, disrespecting my girl.
Are you posting this one?I text her back in response.
For your eyes only,she responds, adding a winking emoji.
It’s like that now. My girl doesn’t need to prove herself to the rest of the world anymore, because she knows who she is, and part of that is finding someone who actually understands her and gives her what she needs.
I’m not one for praise, but I do like hearing that she’s mine.
Good girl,I respond.Your body belongs to me.
Those three little gray dots come up, showing that she’s texting something back, but in the end, they disappear without another word.
I made my girl speechless.
Michael Bellford lives in a nice big house on the edge of Oakdale. There’s a sense of class in his property’s design, like he knows he’s one of the wealthiest people in the county, and shit, he probably is. It makes sense why Reggie would waste five years on someone like him. He must’ve paid for everything, giving her everything she thought she wanted.
I put on my gloves, then pick the lock and let myself inside. What’s funny is that Michael owns a video security company, and yet, beyond a few surveillance cameras, the fucker doesn’t care enough to put up any more defenses. Like he thinks, just because he’s a big name in that world, that no one would dare mess with him. He’s too proud to consider his own vulnerabilities.
When I come through the house, around to the master bedroom, he’s standing above the bed with a vibrator in his hand, bent over his naked paid-girlfriend while she writhes like he’s casting a spell on her.
“Oh, please, Daddy,” she says. “Give it to me—”
I pull him in a chokehold, yanking him back. The woman screams, holding the bedsheet around her, but she’s not my concern right now. I concentrate on Michael. He struggles against me, thrashing like a wild creature in a cage, and I have to give him credit; he puts up a good fight. But I’m stronger, and I put more pressure on his throat, ready to break his neck. But I want this to hurt. I want him to endure every ounce of anger I have for the way he treated my girl.
