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I pushed myself up off the ground to my feet. As soon as I was standing, I raised my arms defensively and glanced back at the gun on the table, trying to calculate which of us could reach it faster.
“Listen, if I can stage your death, you can disappear. I can’t imagine you’d want to go back to a woman that hired a hitman to off you,” he quickly explained.
He didn’t seem to be bluffing. There was honesty in his eyes.
“I’m listening,” I said quietly, but taking a small step towards the table anyway.
“Look, I’m going to reach in my pocket and pull out my phone. There aren’t any stipulations in the contract as to how it needs to be done, just that there’s photo evidence. We can make it look real, and then we can both go on our way.”
“So, she’d think I was dead, you’d get paid even though you didn’t kill me, and I could just go off and live my life. That’s what you’re offering,” I stated quietly.
“Yes,” he answered.
“How am I supposed to believe you?” I questioned warily.
“Go get the gun. It’s yours.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Take it,” he replied.
“Open your coat,” I countered.
With a curt nod, he did as I asked. There was no indication of any other firearm, but he did have several knives holstered along his belt.
“Keep your hands in the air,” I demanded, and he obeyed without a word. Quickly, I stole over to the table and picked up the gun. I’d taken a lesson or two back in the day, so I slid the chamber back and confirmed that it was loaded. I ejected the magazine to find it full of bullets before I pressed it back into place.
“Satisfied?”
“For the moment,” I replied. “So, if you want to stage it, what do you suggest?”
“Take the rope and wrap it around your throat tight. If you lie down on the floor face down, they won’t be able to tell that you’re not actually dead. I’ll take the picture from over here. I won’t move from this spot. I promise,” he implored, his voice sounding at least partially genuine.
Slowly, I did as he asked, keeping the gun close at hand.
“If I hear you move or anything, I’ll shoot you,” I growled, making a point to aim the gun straight at his chest. My finger clicked off the safety, letting him know that I knew my way around a firearm well enough.
“I have no doubt,” he smiled, obviously trying to break the tension. “I’m going to take my phone out of my pocket. You can keep the gun trained on me if you like.”
I watched as he pressed his fingers into his pocket. Just like he said he would, he pulled out a phone and held his other hand up in the air.
Slowly, I tightened the rope and lowered myself to the ground. Once in place, I lay down on my belly, but I kept the gun close to my chest and my eyes trained on him. Not moving a muscle, he waited for me as I arranged myself on the ground and made sure the rope was visible.
“That’s great. I’m taking the picture now,” he murmured, and I heard the sound of a shutter going off several times before all was silent.
“Done?”
“I got it. I’m going to go now. Good luck with everything,” he stated. Once he started to move, I swiftly aimed the gun at him again, but I didn’t need to.
He fled out the front door, leaving it wide open behind him. I didn’t move yet for fear of ambush from someone else, but no one came. A few minutes ticked by, and I heard the gentle rumble of a car engine starting before it drove off. All was quiet for a while, and I eventually moved towards the door, keeping my gun up in case anyone else appeared.
I peered out the door, seeing nothing but trees in front of the cabin. I slowly circled the small structure, looking for signs of life, but found nothing. I was out here alone.
I should be more upset. I should feel scared or angry or panicked, but I felt none of those things.
Instead, I felt relief. I was free for the first time in my life.
CHAPTER2
