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Frustrated, I slam my fist on the desk and squeeze my phone. “I have no blood on my fucking hands. I’m hired to do a job and I do it better than anyone. The money and women are a perk, not everything. I’m capable of keeping my feelings out of it. It will not affect my life after the job is done. Don’t ever fucking suggest otherwise to me again.”
“Chill, brother. I never questioned your abilities. You’re getting pissed off and that should tell you something, that’s all I’m saying,” he replies.
I am pissed, but I don’t even know why. Maybe it is because she’s a woman or because I’m questioning if someone with those innocent eyes is capable of such horrible things. Either way, it’s not up to me to judge. I’m hired to get a job done and that job will get done.
The rest of it doesn’t fucking matter to me.
Chapter 2
Leslie
* * *
The sunlight hits my eyes through the small gap behind the plywood that covers it. I moan, rolling onto my side. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dark surrounding, but once they do I sit up. My body hurts from sleeping on this crappy, old couch. I miss my evening runs and gym workouts. I miss a lot of things. Mostly my freedom.
I head toward the bathroom wishing at the very least I had coffee to help keep me awake. Sleep doesn’t come easily and even when it does, it’s limited at best. I’m constantly alert, so the smallest of sounds has me jumping up.
A groan escapes me when I see my reflection in the dirty mirror. The lack of sleep is evident with the bags under my eyes and my hair is in desperate need of a good washing. I can only use what I brought with me and my shampoo is just about gone at this point. My green eyes look vacant, which isn’t surprising anymore. I’m a shell of the person I once was.
I turn the faucet and stare as nothing comes out. “No! Come on,” I groan.
The building I’m in is vacant and I guess the town finally got around to turning off the water. I hang my head as I grip the sink with my fingers. How the hell am I supposed to survive without water? It means I’m going to have to leave the safety of this shitty apartment. I’ll need to let my presence be known.
It’s been two months since I’ve left this place. I stocked up on enough food and supplies that I thought would get me through. I’m almost out of food, but I could’ve made it work. Without water I’m screwed. I can’t cook, shower, or even go to the bathroom.
I’ve gotten used to the silence, the darkness, and the loneliness. I hate it, but I’ve gotten used to it. I started to feel safe and that’s a problem. I’m not safe and I don’t think I ever will be.
My hands shake as I stand straight, leaving the bathroom. I need to figure out a new plan and fast. There’s no way I can stay here. I’ll need to find somewhere new, somewhere just as secluded, somewhere no one will look for me.
It’s not easy because I know I’m being looked for. I’m being hunted. My life is on the line and there’s nothing I can do about it. The regrets I have are enormous and endless. They have literally cost me my life.
I’ve learned a lot in the last few months. No one is trustworthy. Love does not exist. Things can get worse. Fear is fucking real.
A tear runs down my cheek as I look around to see what I can afford to take with me. When I came here, I brought a lot of things from home to try to keep me grounded. Photos, clothes, pillows, and blankets. There’s no way I can take it all this time. I can’t afford to waste time dragging several bags with me. I’ll need to limit it to one bag, and it won’t fit much.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts of leaving behind special things because they aren’t going to keep me safe. They aren’t going to help me get the fuck out of this town or state. They are memories of another life, a life that no longer exists. A painful reminder that I once had everything and now I don’t even have a bed.
My eyes close against the tears forming. The day everything happened plays behind my eyelids, just like it does every time I close my eyes. I still feel the same fear, same pain, same shame. No one will ever understand, no matter how desperate I am to explain.
I know I’m being hunted. That a bounty has been put on my head. When I still had use of my phone, I googled the man I heard was after me. I stand no chance. There’s no stats or data on him, because obviously, a hitman isn’t something you advertise online. But I’ve seen pictures. I noticed the hardness in his bright blue eyes, the massive muscles, the expressionless face. He doesn’t come off as someone who doesn’t get the job done. Unfortunately, I’m the job and I know for sure my luck is running out.
Sometimes I think about just going outside and letting it all happen. Just getting it over with. Let the end be here already so I can finally have some peace. But I have a story to tell, and I won’t go down without someone hearing me out.
Even if it’s, Hayden Cash.
Chapter 3
Cash
* * *
I’ve been in this shitty town for almost a week now. When I was driving here, I figured this would be an in and out kinda thing. The longer I’m here, the more aggravated I’m getting. I thought for sure she’d be easy to find, kinda oblivious to it all. That doesn’t seem to be the case. She’s well-hidden and believe me I’ve been searching.
I checked all the places I have addresses for. All the contacts I have, places she’s known to frequent, people who know her, have also been visited. I’m starting to realize I may have judged her all wrong. Those innocent eyes lied.
The photo of her I’ve stared at so many times mocks me on the bed. I don’t even need it anymore, so I have no idea why the hell I keep looking at it. Every detail of her is etched into my memory.
I push the photo off the bed and stand up. Tonight, I’m going out. I need to relax, and a few drinks will help with that. Maybe I’ll pick up a woman and fuck this tension out of my body. I pull my hat lower over my eyes, shove my wallet in the pocket of my jeans, and grab my cell phone. I’m determined to have both tonight.
