Page 16 of Talk to Me

His soft chuckle echoed in my ears as he ended the call and I leaned back in the chair. He didn’t want me to dig into the target, but he didn’t say anything about the people offering him the job.

Remy only got jobs through two sources.

Me and the Post Office.

Time to dig into the back and see what was happening there.

Chapter

Five

REMINGTON

Three days of patient observation paid off. The nest was thirty floors up, on a floor under construction with no glass installed yet. The plastic sheeting provided ample cover. There was a bathroom one floor down.

As jobs went, this was almost like a room at the Ritz. Hour sixty-nine—good hour—the target arrived at his private apartment for an assignation with the mistress or call girl or whatever was the season’s latest flavor.

The woman wasn’t his wife. That was all I needed to know. She was also not a target. Collateral wasn’t covered, but they would like a witness. So it wasn’t just a physical assassination.

They wanted to kill the guy’s reputation too. Then again, he was part mob sellout, part politician, and all around sleazebag. His numbers in the current poll were tanking but the guy hadn’t lost an election in twelve years.

Frankly, I didn’t care. The jobs came in, they paid the bills, some had some specialist shit they wanted done—like cutting out tongues or leaving their penises next to them. Those jobs were a little messy, but I’d done a few.

I preferred the distance work. I saw better from a distance. The more difficult the target was to acquire, the more I liked the job. It also meant the more I could charge.

Regular infusions also let me turn down the clean-up on aisle fourteen jobs. When the target turned out to be scum? That was just icing on the cake. He was dancing as he came in and he tossed her something. She had to be twenty years younger than him.

Nice tits and ass, but I liked them actually out of college at the very least. When she started cutting a couple of lines, I kept an eye on her for a moment.

Cocaine. She didn’t look too buzzed right now. Maybe the next few minutes would scare her straight. Either way, she at least didn’t have to worry about faking it for the limpdick who was already stripping off his clothes.

Fuck my life, I could have gone forever without having to look at pasty white flesh, apron belly, and flab that rippled when he swung his hips like he was some hot stud on a stage.

Only habits and training kept me from closing my eyes or giving in to disgust. I had a clean sight on his head, and when he turned to face the mirror—that would make a nice splatter target. It was also into a load bearing wall so it would be less likely to cut through him, then the wall, and into someone else.

The mushroom-tipped bullets were designed to shred once it was inside the body, but I liked to minimize the risk of pass-through shootings.

One breath.

Two.

In between the heartbeats.

I squeezed the trigger.

One round.

It blew the front of his skull off and he stood there, limp dick in hand like the body wasn’t sure what to do before he collapsed. The rifle was muffled, but the shot had been loud on this floor. Might even have echoed down to the street, but the girl in the living room was riding her high.

Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, birdie.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured. Snapping two photos to add to the collection of the others I’d taken. Proof of life snuffed out for the job. Then I broke down the gun and packed it away. Different pieces into different parcel boxes, all going to different locations where I could pick them up later.

Courier tags were already on the boxes. I separated out other pieces and tucked them into hollow crutches. In under five minutes, I’d policed the area of my nest and sanitized it.

Instead of the elevator, I took the stairs down four floors to where a customer service center was located and a trading company. They both worked weird hours. I dropped the boxes into the courier slot. Those went down to a lock box that was only opened by the courier service.

With care, I used the crutches to make my way down the hall. The backpack over my shoulder and earbuds in my ears made me look like one of those traders wrapping it for the night.