My hands twitch, a nervous habit of mine right before a job. Not because I’m scared, but because of the adrenaline flowing through me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like what I do. Because I fucking do. All the time and energy that goes behind the scenes for this moment. The buildup. It’s like sex, holding in your cum until you can’t anymore, finally busting. That’s what this always feels like. The moment they stop breathing is my climax. My reward. The job is done; I’m a bit richer and still alive. Maybe I like to put my life on the line, the chance that one of these days one of these jobs will be my last. It fucking feeds me. Walking into their homes or work is like doing the finest, purest line of cocaine. The immediate heart rate spike, the jitters, everything. Fuck, it feels good. The comedown, now that I hate. As soon as I get back to where I’m going, my body feels heavy, weighted down.
Jumping over the gate, I land on my feet; the shock reverberates up my legs before I lumber to the back of the house staying along the back wall, in the shadows, out of sight.
I wear the same thing for every job. My own little superstition. All black outfit, my boots, black leather gloves, anda beanie for my hair. I don’t give a shit if it’s a hundred degrees out; my hair is hidden. These clothes have seen a lot. I smile at myself, thinking about all they’ve seen, before clearing my mind. Every single thought needs to be in the here and now.
Maneuvering my way to the back door, I pull out my lock kit. My hands have their own memory as they use the tools to open the back door. With a click, the door unlocks, and a smile forms on my lips. Opening it, I enter a dark kitchen before I silently shut the door again, pocketing my tools. The kitchen's scent from their previous food assault my nostrils.
My breathing is rapid, but I slow it down as I pull out my gun, cocking it. The noise from it makes me wince as I stand still and listen. The only light in the kitchen is over the stove, barely allowing me to see much of anything. Once I’m happy with the silence, I make my way through the kitchen to the front stairs. The client did well in the draw-up of the layout of the house.
Tiptoeing up the stairs, I know his room will be immediately to the right as I step onto the landing.
Stopping at the door, I hear a noise. Pausing, I gently put my ear to it, listening intensely. I’m shocked when I hear more than one voice. Stepping back from the door, I’m perplexed. There was supposed to be only him here. Everyone else is out of town.
I can’t abort, so shaking off my surprise, I step back in front of the door, using the tip of my boot, I push it ajar just enough so I can get eyesight on J.J. and that’s when I see a naked man bent over a body, fucking it while they’re at the edge of the bed.
The moaning becomes louder as I open the door wider, stepping inside, staying out of sight. And that’s when I hear the other voice; it’s a male.
Cocking my eyebrow, J.J. has a man in his wife's bed. This wasn’t in his files. The secrets we try to keep.
I stand and watch for a few moments, wanting him to be right on the brink of coming when I yank him out of his pleasure, killing him before he gets the chance.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I abruptly call to them. J.J. freezes, his ass cheeks clenched, before turning around. In the dim light, I see the shock on his face when he sees the gun pointed right at him.
Not able to help myself, I look down and watch as his cock slowly deflates. The laugh I let out is one of pure satisfaction. The man who was under him screams and crawls up the bed, grabbing the blanket on his way to cover himself.
“Who the fuck are you?” John stutters out.
"No niceties are needed," I say, tilting my head and closing the space between us, gun still drawn at the ready. My finger itch to pull it. I watch him try to draw into himself, wanting to become small and evaporate. Pure fear mars his too tanned face.
Over the years, I have seen many men's faces who were finally looking death in the face. They range from pure fright, sadness, and some just downright contentment. Those are the ones I like best. They’ve thought all this time they were bigger and better, had more money and could get away with whatever they wanted, but then here I come to show them you can’t. It all comes at a price, and that price is the barrel of my gun.
“On your knees.” I motion with my gun.
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” J.J. begs me.
There are stages. Begging and then pleading.
“On your fucking knees,” I spew at him. He jumps from my tone. I see when it finally clicks, that I’m the one in fucking charge. He fumbles to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. His dick now shrived up.
I take a few steps toward him, the barrel of the gun now on his forehead, kissing his sweat slicked skin.
The man in the bed makes a noise when I close the gap between J.J. and I. My eyes jump to him. He throws the sheet over his head.
“Who is that?” I look down at J.J.
He shakes his head.
“Speak.” I press the metal harder into his forehead.
I watch him open and close his mouth, the words hard to form. “It’s my…” He stops.
“He pays to fuck me.” The voice from the bed is muffled, but it speaks clearly. “I know nothing. I didn’t even see your face.”
My eyes pan to the bed, the man. My brain and ethics are fighting about what to do. Leaving him alive could cost me, but killing him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time will cost me.
“Look at me.” J.J. stares up. “When you threaten people with their families, that’s when shit becomes real.” I watch his eyes widen, the realization hitting him of why I’m there and who sent him. I give him a tight smile. “Gerald says hello.” J.J.’s eyes close as I pull back on the trigger, the sound violent in the room, bouncing off the walls. I watch his blood and brain matter spray the beige bedcover; his naked body falls to the floor below him.
Walking to the head of the bed, screams come from the man as I bend down, searching for the bullet. Finding it encased in the wooden frame, I pry it out with a tool from my pocket, dropping it into the inside of my pants pocket.
