The soft sound of the blade cutting into the glass reminded him of when he’d gone ice skating as a kid. Back when life was easy. Simple. Before he fell into the mess that had eventually brought him here.
When the circle was complete, he positioned the rounded cup in the center and squeezed its twin handles together. The move created the suction needed to secure the device’s rubbered bottom to the slick surface, and with a careful but firm pull back toward him, Michael removed that portion of the glass from the door.
He bent down, placing the separated piece onto the wooden slat next to where he stood. With the push of the tiny button on the cup’s base, the pressure was released, and he returned the cup and the cutting tool back to their rightful pocket.
Rising back to his full height, he slipped a gloved hand through the newly formed hole. The backs of his leather-clad knuckles cleared the sharp, rounded edge. A few short seconds later, the door was unlocked, and he was inside the house.
Phase two complete.
Slivers of moonlight led the way, their softened beams illuminating the home’s quaint interior. Michael stood in the kitchen, taking precious seconds to recall the schematics of the one-level house.
Kitchen. Opened dining and living room. Hallway with three bedroom doors, one full bath, and a closet for linens.
His first steps moved slower than the racing beats of his heart. Several slow, deep breaths coupled with matching exhales brought his pulse back to a steady pace.
He could do this. Hewasdoing it. And in a few short minutes, it would all be over. The threat to his future would no longer exist, and he’d be free to continue building the life he deserved.
Michael made his way through the living room and down the nearly blackened hallway. From his previous visits here, he knew the first door he passed was the guest room. After that was a small linen closet on his left, followed by the door leading to the bathroom.
His gut tightened as he passed the last room on the right, praying the little girl behind it didn’t wake up. He stopped at the end of the hall, just before entering the master bedroom. Its door was ajar just enough he was able to squeeze his body through with ease.
In the back of his mind, in a place he didn’t dare acknowledge, was the fleeting thought that his target had intentionally left the door open in case her child hollered for her in the night.
Speaking of his target…
Amanda Owens lay curled up beneath the covers of her bed. Eyes closed, she was on her side, facing away from where he stood. With her pale skin and light blonde hair, the woman reminded him a lot of a porcelain doll.
She’d always been kind to him, even when she’d been handing down that fucking ultimatum. He could still hear her demanding he promise to think about the choices he’d made, and those he planned to make in the future.
Michael had fulfilled his promise, having spent that entire night thinking everything through. By morning, he’d realized Amanda was right. About him, the job…what his next steps should be.
But knowing that still wasn’t enough to make him walk away. He’d gained a lot in the past several months, but he wanted more. Heneededmore. And there was only one way that would happen.
Michael approached the bed with caution, never one to underestimate the lethal government agent. He drew in a breath, lifted the gun in his hand, and pointed it at the back of Amanda’s head.
The pad of his gloved trigger finger slid into the metal curve of the weapon’s trigger. He squeezed, the subtle move releasing a single round of untraceable ammunition.
A soft zip of the suppressed gunshot reached his ears at the same time the bullet struck its target with perfect aim. A tuft of blonde flew up and out before falling limply around the small, circular wound.
Michael lowered the weapon back down to his side, grateful that Amanda had been asleep at the time of her unexpected death. Not only because he’d avoided confrontation, but because he could walk away knowing she hadn’t suffered.
As far as deaths went, Amanda’s had been peaceful and without pain. He’d known a hell of a lot of people who weren’t that lucky.
Quit trying to justify this shit and get the hell out!
Michael spared his deceased partner one final look before turning to leave. But the little girl standing just inside the doorway stopped him mid-stride.
No. No, no, no, no, no!
“Mommy?” Amanda’s daughter looked at her mother’s still form.
The girl’s eyes were full of sleep and confusion as they slid from the bed back up to him, and all he could think about were the words he was told earlier when he was still on the phone.
If she does happen to wake up, you know what has to be done.
The man who’d helped put this plan into motion had been referring to the child Michael was staring at now. But just like when he’d heard those words the first time, everything inside him rejected the horrific notion.
I can’t kill a kid. Not a fucking kid!
