Page 27 of Wraith
Chapter Twenty-Six
It turnedout that the man in Belize was just the start. When I got back to the compound Roman gave me more assignments. Mainly kills that consisted of offing some sorry bastard dumb enough to cross him. Each assignment was accompanied by Trenton or someone else who worked for Roman, as if I needed a babysitter to kill someone. Still, each and every trip I would hear the same words come out of Roman’s mouth,your pet will become mypet.
I didn’t go and see her like I had before, I stayed away and sent food down to her. Sometimes I would check on her while she slept, just to watch her. Her hair has started to grow from the cut I gave her and it’s nearly to her thin cheeks. If only I could feed her more, she would look so muchhealthier.
“Esteban! There he is. Come in, boy, we have a visitor.” Roman’s fake cheerful accent pulls me into to his office. I was summoned from training to meet with for possible jobopportunity.
“This is the man I have heard so much about?” The man who speaks is tall and lanky, dressed much like Roman, wearing suspenders underneath his suit coat. I also catch sight of the gun he has secured at his hip as he brushes his hand along his side, making sure I see it’s ready for use. It’s not usual for visitors to bring their weapons so him having his means something. What I’m not quite sureyet.
“Esteban, this is Doyle, a good friend, we go way back. I want you to listen to his proposal and give him whatever it is he needs. Whatever it is,” Roman instructs lifting his overweight carcass from his overworked chair, shaking hands with Doyle before leaving us alone in theroom.
“I must say, you aren’t anything like what I expected,” Doyle says, rounding the desk and standing on the other side, taking Roman’s place but not sitting down. Instead he leans forward and places his hands on the desk. “There is a man trying to ruin me,” he starts, leveling me with his pointed stare. “I want you to kill him. I will reward you beyond your expectations. Think of whatever it is you want and I will double it. Even if it causes conflict with Roman. I will do it.” He pauses, gauging my reaction, but I have none. His words register but all I hear iskillsomeone.
“Give me a name and he is dead.” My words cause a laugh to rip from his throat but when I still don’t move a muscle he quiets andanswers.
“Larry Kinkaid.” I nod and turn from the room, ready for akill.
* * *
“Jack on the rocks,”I tell the bartender that hasn’t stopped swaying her ass back and forth since I sat down. I can tell she is putting a little more emphasis into her strut for my benefit, because she only does it when she walks away from me, not towardme.
“Got you, handsome. What brings you in here tonight? You don’t look the type to be in this bar.” She would be right aboutthat.
“Business,” I mumble next to the rim of the glass before knocking the burning liquid back to my throat. Liquor is an acquired taste I have to force myself to get used to on assignment. As are the women. This one tonight just might be the perfect cover for this job. Her tits spilling out of her shirt aren’t half badeither.
“Well, if you find yourself looking for pleasure, I get off in about an hour.” She winks and struts back down to the other end of the crowdedbar.
The place is packed, every badge-holding mother fucker in a twenty-nine mile radius is in this bar. As is my target. He sits at a table with three other FBI agents laughing about something. I guess Doyle forgot to mention that I had to kill an FBI prick. It doesn’t matter though, I’ll do it, no qualms or questions. I finally find myself doing a job alone, a first-time lone kill with no escort. This one is me, all fucking me. So, I’m doing it my way. And my way involves the bartender’s lips wrapped around my cock in an hour and my knife deep in Kinkaid’s throat intwo.
Done andDone.
One hourlater
The dark surrounds us as she drops to her knees on the cold pavement. Her hands quickly find my zipper and take out my cock, not nearly hard enough, but that is what her mouth is for. She gets to work, over eager and unsatisfying. When I first started finding women to hook up with on assignment, I blamed my lack of enthusiasm on Sebastian. Thinking that maybe, on some level, I preferred men. It was one night of drunkenness and fumbling hands that lead to me kicking the guy’s teeth in that solidified I wasn’t gay. Then my thoughts landed on the girl in the basement. I started picturing her each time I was with a woman. That was myticket.
Hands tangled in dark hair that only goes to her shoulders, those lips wrapped around my shaft while she looked up at me with her deep brown eyes. In my thoughts, her skin wasn’t so pale form being deprived of sunlight. She wasn’t gaunt from not being fed more than twice a day. And her beautiful eyes were vibrant with life instead of dull and lifeless. She wasn’t a captive like me in my thoughts. She was as free as the woman on her knees right now, sucking me off. And me? I was free, too, and Roman was dead. Along with everyone else who lived and worked at thecompound.
Some shit just doesn’thappen.
Two hourslater
I follow Kinkaid to a one bedroom apartment just three blocks from the bar. He staggers only slightly and I take that small nugget of information and place it at the back of my mind. He could be easy to overpower and take out but I know I shouldn’t underestimate what he can do. Even if I’m better, he still is human, and for some fucking reason they sometimes getlucky.
He fumbles with his keys, trying to get the key in the lock to open his door, dropping them at least three times before getting it right. When his door shuts behind him, I wait. Pausing for a moment on the outside of his door, listening for any movement. Through the thin walls I hear the clanging of pipes being turned on, signaling that he is possibly taking a shower or took a piss. I chance the former and make quick work on picking the lock. It only takes a couple flicks and I’m in. The door makes a small squeak when I let it swing open. The sound of running water fills my ears and I let myself relax just a fraction of a second before stepping all the wayinside.
Click.
Motherfucker.
“Hands where I can see them.” Kinkaid’s voice is low,level.
“Good actor. Got to hand it to you. I really thought you were three sheets to the wind. Good thing you didn’t drive I might have been compelled to call itin.”
“Shut up! Turn the fuck around and put your fucking hands on your fuckinghead!”
“Such language.” I smirk, doing as he says, I face the man with a gun pointed directly at my forehead. My fingers thread through each other at the base of my skull and I let out a tired sigh. “Go on, either shoot or arrestme.”
“Who are you?” His gun is still trained on me but I catch the nit in his brows, theconfusion.
