The Hitman’s Last Job
Selena Black
Copyright © 2016 by Selena Black
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law
CHAPTER 1
Anna mumbled in her sleep, words she’d said a thousand times before. She was having a dream…THAT dream, all over again, like she’d had almost every night of her life. She always stayed 9 years old in her nightmares. Maybe because at that age everything changed forever or maybe it was because deep down she still was that 9 year old girl. She flayed her arms as if fighting an invisible attacker and tears squeezed out from her clenched eyelids.
“No! I don’t wanna!” she cried as if protesting would stop it happening.
It was the day after her ninth birthday when she noticed the look in her father’s eyes change. He lingered on her for just that second longer and the intention on his face was something she had never seen before. Was it love? Hunger? She’d soon find out.
She’d gone to bed like she always and climbed beneath the covers with her favorite stuffed toy, an owl named Archimedes who she often spoke to as if he was her best friend. She rubbed her face against his soft, fake feathers and felt the blissful relaxation that only came in the twilight seconds of sleep taking hold. But something snapped her from the comfort… the creak of her bedroom door.
“Daddy?”
“Be quiet sweety,”
“Why? Is there something wrong?”
“Just be quiet,” he grunted.
He smelled terrible but that was no surprise. Anna had left her father in a drunken stupor on the couch with an old Western playing loudly on the TV. He was filthy and sour and as Anna wondered whether she should lean over and kiss him goodnight, she looked to his corpulent body and found him repulsive.
His disgruntled face was crumpled into folds of gray skin with a five o’clock shadow peppering his chin. His hands looked as if they’d seen a fight that day and the stains on his clothes showed themselves as a map of his daily habits. Anna hurried up the stairs and hoped that in the morning he’d be in a good mood.
But here he was in the middle of the night standing in her bedroom, swaying like he always did when he was drunk and wanted to start an argument. Then he moved in closer and for a moment, Anna thought he was going to pounce onto the bed like a wild animal. She was almost right. He lingered for a moment by the side of the bed… just watching. Anna could see sweat begin to form on his brow.
“Are you sick Daddy?” she tried to reason why he looked so strange.
“Just sick of not having you,” was his peculiar reply that she didn’t understand.
He pulled back the bedsheets. Anna shifted herself away quickly but soon found she was trapped in the corner, with her father blocking any escape. Her eyes were wide in fear and confusion. She clutched at Archimedes in a futile attempt at gaining protection. Used to being afraid of her father, she sensed this was different. There was an insidious look in his dark eyes.
He grabbed at the stuffed owl and tried to pull it from Anna’s arms but she held on as desperately. A struggle broke out and soon the pair was fighting over the toy. Fake fur and cotton stuffing flew out over the bed like a scattering of artificial snow. Her father won the battle quickly and tossed the artificial owl carcass on the floor. Anna looked to it with tears clinging at her eyelashes.
But a sharp pain in her wrist made her turn back to her father. He was gripping her arm hard and pushing her down underneath him. He was sitting astride her now with that vile stench of his permeating her nostrils. She tried to struggle but it was pointless. Her meagre frame was like a matchstick beneath his bearish body. All she could do was try to breathe.
His attack was relentless that night and Anna thought that nothing could be so painful again. Of course she was wrong. Her father’s nightly visits became a routine and like clockwork for the next ten years his depraved and torturous acts would become a normal part of her life. Normal for him anyway… Now aged 19 she barely thought of anything else once she closed her eyes at, even though he didn’t creak open her door as much as he used to. His fists though… she was still at the receiving end of those.
Animalistic and visceral her father’s anger was like an untamed wolf. Each night she’d try to dream of freedom but as always his face would intrude on her serenity and the attacks would begin all over again in her mind.
This night was different though because her dream was stopped in its tracks by something alien, something loud, something… deadly. A gunshot. It echoed through the house and drifted up the stairs. At first Anna thought that she was still dreaming but that was until she could smell the gunpowder and she sat bolt upright in bed. This isn’t a dream, this is really happening! For a confusing moment she genuinely cared for her father and her instinct was to run downstairs to check on him.
“Dad?”
Her bare feet slapped on the wooden floorboards as she hurried. She reached the living room and the sight hit her. Death and blood, shock and horror… Her father was lying in the position she left him in but his nicotine stained vest was now running with a cascade of blood that sprung from an open wound in his head. Anna immediately gagged and clutched a hand to her mouth. The blood ran a river from his body to hers and seeped in between her toes. Total fear racked her body for a moment until the reality of the situation hit her… he would never hurt her again! But who hurt him?
As if her thoughts were mysteriously read a floorboard creaked behind her and she spun round in the dark to see a figure so tall it towered over her. The demonic shadow loomed in closer and Anna began to shake. Then a hand as strong as a vice spun her back around. Her arms were violently and expertly pulled behind her back.
CHAPTER 2
She screamed an animalistic cry for help but was soon silenced by the cold steel of a gun against her temple. Anna assumed death would come in a second and she began to pray but it never arrived. The murderer in her house appeared to be hesitating or was he just playing with her, trying to make her last few seconds on earth as terrifying as possible? She felt his hot breath on the back off her neck and the clean smell of his aftershave. She wanted to see his face and put a name to her father’s killer but the tight grip on her never wavered.
Meanwhile the killer was looking at her intently. She’s a pretty one, he thought. Real pretty... He looked over every inch of her body as he held the gun to her head. She was shaking in her underwear. He could smell the fear coming off her. Wondering what to do with her, he looked her up and down again. He killed the men easily. That was what he was paid to do. But the women? He never got involved with them, but this time he had no choice. She was a witness after all wasn’t she? But she didn’t see his face. Still… she’d complicate things. She’d have to die too.
But something was stopping him pulling the trigger. He’d never killed a girl before, and he found himself not being able to even contemplate it. But his boss specified, ordered even, to kill everyone and that meant the girl too. He looked her over once again and saw the fragility of her body, the coyness in her face and the sheer terror in her eyes. He couldn’t do it, instead he felt the deep compulsion to wrap his arms around her and tell her he’d save her. It was an odd thought to have considering he had just put a bullet hole in her father. He hesitated for a moment longer and then an idea flashed in his head.
“Come with me,” he spoke gruffly and let her arms go. “But don’t say a word or I’ll kill you.”
The killer walked briskly and silently through the house and, noticing one of Anna’s coats hanging in the hallway, tossed it to her.
“Wrap up warm, there’s no heat where we’re going,” he said rather enigmatically.
What the hell does that mean! A thousand thoughts a second were flying through Anna’s mind. Why didn’t he kill me? What’s he going to do instead? She was too scared to resist, and so dutifully followed him out of the house and onto the street. A black SUV stood proudly amongst the battered, second hand cars of the neighbours. She looked to see where her father’s van was and was surprised to see it wasn’t in its usual parking space.
“Hurry,” the killer whispered through the frosty darkness. “In the car…” he pulled open the passenger door. “Come on… get in quickly,”
Anna’s freezing bare feet ran quickly on the cold tarmac as she hurried to the vehicle. She jumped in the passenger side and he slammed the door behind her. As he moved round and sat in the driver’s seat the soft light from the street lamps showed his features and Anna saw him clearly for the first time. She was immediately struck by how handsome he was. Square jawed and blonde, young and athletic… he wasn’t what she expected him to be. He looked so normal and respectable, the kind of guy you proudly took home to your parents.
He started the ignition and softly pulled away from the curb, driving gently away down the street, gliding silently like a ghost. No one would have noticed a thing… except for the gunshot, but in this neighbourhood people heard them often and knew not to stick their neck out by calling the cops. For a long while they drove silently through the streets of Chicago with nothing but the sound of silence and Anna’s rapid breathing. Anna was desperate to ask who he was, where they were going and what he was going to do with her but she couldn’t get the words out. She just watched him, trying to figure out what was going on in his head by the expression on his face, but there wasn’t one. He was a true professional, strong and silent, foreboding and solemn.
He said nothing until they reached a depressing looking motel that stood rickety and old off the side of the freeway. It would have looked abandoned if it wasn’t for the neon sign that flickered red in the night. It flashed the words “Sleep Eazy.”
“You know, I always wondered why they bothered with the second ‘E’ and the ‘P’.” The man commented dryly, turning to Anna, and smiling at her confused expression. “If you co-operate, you won’t get hurt. Now get out the car.”
She was lead roughly to a room at the end of the building. Far away from everyone else and containing nothing but a bed, a wicker chair, a lamp and an ancient television. It was only slightly dirtier than the house she had been taken from.
“Sit there,” he said flatly and pointed to the bed.
She did as she was told and shook nervously under her coat. She pulled it tighter around her and began to cry.
“Stop crying,” he said angrily. “It won’t bring your father back,”
“I wouldn’t want it to,” her words hung mysteriously in the air.
The killer looked to her face and saw her delicate features accentuated perfectly in the auburn lamplight. He wondered how someone so dainty and perfect could have sprouted from the cesspit of her neighbourhood. He felt himself soften to her but wished that he wouldn’t. Straightening himself in his chair he tried to make his body look more masculine, erect… strong. Anna responded by shrinking inside her coat even more. He felt guilty for scaring her but at the same time wanted to keep the upper hand. He stood up and walked over to her.
“Look kid, just do as I say and you won’t get hurt,”
She looked up to him with her big, pale eyes. There was uneasiness inside her as if she wasn’t sure if he was tricking her into something.
“Just do as I say… Ok?” and he got up and walked over to a backpack.
As he opened it Anna thought it looked military issued, and her eyes lingered on his buzz cut and stoney expression. Ex-marine? She wondered. He can’t still be in service. He pulled out a length of rope from the bag and began to make shapes with it between his hands. Anna panicked and scurried away from him but the furthest she could get was the headboard. He leaned in closer to her and his height and muscles couldn’t have been more intimidating. But as he held her limbs and tied her hands and feet together she noticed that he did so softly.
It seemed to Anna that he was only doing it as a token gesture of dominance, he didn’t want to hurt her…but at the same time he clearly didn’t want her escaping. He finished off by tying the loose strands of rope around the legs of the bed. He felt the peculiar urge to pat her on the head or comfort her in some way, but held back. Ridiculous, he thought. What am I thinking? And he left the motel room with a stomach full of raw nerves.
Anna wriggled on the bed trying to free her body from the rope. She knew it would be impossible but would never forgive herself if she didn’t try. The more she struggled the more the rope burnt the skin on her wrists and she eventually gave up. Catching her breath she tried to gauge what was happening. An hour ago she was asleep in her own bed and now she was here….wherever that was. She tried to remember the journey over here and was confused as to why the gunman hadn’t blindfolded her. Isn’t that what they usually do? She didn’t know. She wasn’t an expert on these things like her father was.
Her father… she remembered his pathetic, lifeless body on the couch. The Western movie long ended and there was only the sound of the late night TV commercials to keep him company. He must have looked a sorry state when the killer arrived, probably thought he was doing the old man a favour. She wondered whether he woke up just in time to see the face of his own murderer. She worried that he would have been scared. But she stopped herself. Why should she care? She should be grateful that monster in her life was gone. He was a bastard, a coward, a criminal, an absolute dirty dog of a man. She looked at the door and wondered if she had just been delivered from one monster to another.
~
Carl’s mind was running ragged as he sped through the night. Soon enough he’d be at his boss’ house and would have to tell him everything. But did he? He couldn’t possibly tell him that he’d spared the life of a witness, the Don would kill him. But he felt wrong killing innocents - that’s what his Navy SEAL training had taught him to do, and years after leaving the military, he still tried to fight for freedom and honor. But that was more difficult to do now he was tangled into the Mob.
He ran a hand through his hair as he looked in the mirror at the stoplight. He was only a few minutes away from the Don and was trying to get his story straight in his head. Just tell him you killed the girl, no one has to know otherwise. He repeated the phrase in his head like a mantra.
He hated waiting at stoplights. The position of his legs while driving always made his back hurt even more than it usually did. He fidgeted in his seat to try and make the pain go away but as ever it was a strong presence that refused to leave. The light went green and he moved away slowly. He was the only vehicle on the road and he was in no hurry. If anything he wanted to make the journey last as long as possible.
He had to control his nerves and he took a few deep breaths. Everything was going to be ok. It wasn’t as if it would be more terrifying than Afghanistan and he’d survived that. He tried to remember this as he made his way down the immaculate long drive of the luxurious house in Naperville. One last look in the mirror and he saw dark circles around the rims of his icy blue eyes. He’d seen better days. The job really took a toll on him.
A burly man in a black, mohair suit was ready at the front door to greet him. As ever the size of the house took Carl aback. It was the biggest house, on the most exclusive street, in the most expensive suburb. He often wondered what the Don’s neighbors thought of him. The burly man was called Jerry and was always a pleasant and friendly gentleman to Carl. He always imagined him as a playful bulldog, all fat and stupid with a heart of gold. Jerry shook his hand firmly as he jumped out the SUV.
“You’ve t
aken your time tonight ain’t ya?” he laughed as he looked up to the hitman.
“Hey! I was you know… stuck in traffic,”
They both laughed.
“Of course you were,” Jerry smirked.
“Say how’s the boss doin? He waitin’ for me?” Carl asked nervously.
“Sure is! Getting all angsty cos you’ve been taken your sweet ass time,”
“Well… you better show me the way,”
They walked through the Don’s house, and Carl admired every detail. He always dreamed that someday he could have all the Don had, but without having to resort to violence and extortion. At least they know what they want, Carl mused. On one hand he worked hard to be a fine citizen that upheld the law… on the other, he killed for cash. It wasn’t his fault that the military wouldn’t compensate him after Afghanistan though. He always had to remind himself that.
Jerry led Cark down a grand hallway that was colored in cream and gold. The decadence was almost too much, as the gargantuan walls framed the priceless treasures that adorned the place. A crypt, a chapel, a private museum, Carl wasn’t sure but he was eager to see. He was then rather titillated when the doors were pulled back to reveal a bathroom. The largest bathroom he had ever seen. To Carl the room could have fitted a train station, and he looked around to see why they were taking him to a goddamn bathroom. But all that lay inside the marble walls was a bath and in that bath sat Angelo De Lorenzo. He was pushing the last piece of a sandwich into his mouth and sucking mayonnaise from his fingers. He looked up to his two employees with an irritated look on his tanned face.
“Hey kid, what took ya so long?” he said angrily to Carl.
“Urgh… things got a little complicated, but it’s all sorted,” he lied smoothly.
“Complicated eh?” Angelo squinted his eyes suspiciously. “But the girl? You got her too didn’t ya?”
“Yup,” Carl nodded, praying he wouldn’t ask more questions.
“Good work,” Angelo began to swim over to the other side of the bath where a briefcase lay. “As always, you never let me down,” and he slid the briefcase over the wet floor in the direction of the two men.