AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Just as he always manages to disappear the moment the lawnmower comes out of the garage and magically reappears when the work is finished, Glenn is leaving the heavy lifting to me.
My eyes narrowed as I turn on my heel and exit the front door again. If I needed a reminder of why I need that man dead, it’s just been handed to me on a silver platter.
The sound of running water greets me on my way back in, and I go straight for the bedroom, the largest of two located at the back of the structure. Dropping our bags on the floor just inside the door, I get busy tugging the white sheet off the bed and retrieve a fresh set of sheets and top blanket from the linen cabinet, then make quick work of setting everything back to rights.
“Good news,” Glenn announces as I take a load off and sit down on the side of the bed I’ve claimed as my own. “The water is clear and running hot, and we have A/C.”
“Thatisgood news.” I nearly moan at the thought of taking a hot shower to relax my tired muscles and the knowledge that I won’t be sweating my butt off, thereby making it impossible to sleep.
“You look tired.”
Very perceptive, I snark in her mind. To him I say, “It was a long day. I think the excitement wore me out.”
For a brief moment, Glenn’s expression falls in disappointment, and I don’t have to guess to know what he’d had on his mind. “Get some rest then. Tomorrow is a new day, and we have all weekend to enjoy it.”
Grateful for the reprieve, I kick off my shoes and crawl under the blankets, foregoing that coveted shower in lieu of a good night’s rest and a fresh mind to enact my plans in the morning.
I’m eager to get started!
Fifteen
~Declan~
I followed the unhappy but seemingly happy couple out of their quiet little neighborhood and up into the mountains, leaving the densely packed civilization that comes with city life behind.
I had been puzzling on what Brenda was up to all four-plus hours of the trip as I observed their activities, starting with the joyful smiles they exchanged, hand holding, and quaint little lunch in the park. It only escalated from there.
Is Brenda, after all of her adamancy to the contrary, considering reconciliation?
If so, it will never work. For a number of reasons. One being that she ever wanted him dead in the first place and even went so far as to hire me, a freakin’ hitman, to get rid of him, and two being that I made it clear as crystal that once a contract is made, it is unbreakable.
So what if I told her that the deal was off? I’m allowed to change my mind. At no point in time did I ever say that it would be off if I did, in fact, change my mind. It is my prerogative who I kill and who I don’t.
Brenda is going to get one hell of a rude awakening if she thinks for one minute that me telling her it was off meant it was forever and always never going to happen.
A fact that is becoming more and more urgent the longer I follow the couple, watching that fat oaf put his hands on her as if he owns her.
A piece of paper doesn’t make that so, and I want nothing more than to beat that lesson into him. I want to make it clear that Brenda is not a piece of property, and Glenn has lost any right he had to it long ago. But more specifically, when his wife sentenced him to die—a little known fact that I fully planned to reveal, eye to eye, before the lights go out for good.
So all of this brought me here, to a cabin on a hill in the middle of the woods, with the nearest neighbors dotted along the land, miles apart.
As for me, I’m sitting in my SUV, nestled inconspicuously between a patch of pine trees and vegetation that’s doing an okay job of keeping my presence here hidden, twiddling my thumbs and cobbling together ideas.
So far, nada.
I am at a loss for how to approach this situation and when. I’m used to having ample time to plan. Case the area, map out the land and the people. Come up with something airtight and foolproof. And now…I’m going to have to think on my feet.
Maybe I should have contacted Brenda, broken a cardinal rule just once, to save myself the headache. I just hadn’t considered that she would run off to either reconcile or carry out the job herself—the jury is still out on exactly what the hell it is that she’s doing way up here, so far from home.
I hadn’t taken her for the cabin-in-the-woods type.
Then again, she didn’t appear the type to hire a hitman to kill her husband either. You just never know what a person is really like behind the carefully placed mask.
I recline back in my seat enough to get comfortable but still maintain a visual on the cabin. The lights are on inside, casting a muted, soft yellow, rectangular glow on patches of earth just outside the windows. I have no idea where they are inside, nor what they are doing.
A man’s imagination could easily get away from him, and if I were a lesser man, it certainly would have. But I’m so easily distracted, years of honing my senses to remain on task and alert at all times serving me well.
So how will I kill the fated Glenn Overmeyer this weekend? And when? Will I do it tonight, while he sleeps, or wait until morning, perhaps while out on a brisk mountain jog? Any number of things could happen out here in the woods. Break an ankle and succumb to injury. Get eaten by a bear or maybe a mountain lion. Although I’m not sure if either of those is prominent in the area…
