The fence around the backyard is high, but still manageable to jump over. With a running start, I grab hold of the wooden peeks, my foot coming to rest on the wooden wall, giving myself a lift and jumping over, landing on my feet, before falling a bit to the grass.
I stay how I am, letting my ears pick up any sounds, but it stays silent around me, letting me know I’m in the clear to keep moving forward. Back toward the house, I slither my way down the brick wall until I can look around the corner, and that’s when I spot the small pool house, lights on. Running from the house to the pool chairs, I duck behind, making sure I’m still good to continue. When I feel I am, I crouch down and walk therest of the way to the pool house. Once there, I hear voices. No one else is supposed to be here; this throws a wrench into the plans. Backing away and going behind the pool house. I tap my earpiece. “Someone is here,” I whisper.
The other side is quiet as I wait.
“Thomas,” I grit out.
“No one is supposed to be there.” His voice booms into my ear, making me wince.
“Motherfucker, not so loud.”
I hear his chuckle. “Sorry. But no one is supposed to be there. Are you sure?”
Groaning, I lurch over to the front of the pool house. Looking through the window, I can barely make out anything between the slats of the blinds. Moving my head left to right, I finally zero in my eyes on him. Is he on the phone? I think.
I wait a few more minutes to make sure, seeing him pocket his phone, the place becomes silent, letting me know he was indeed on the phone.
I maneuver back behind the pool house. “He was on the phone. I’m going to get him and take him into the main house, so when we detonate, he’ll be in there, and everything will burn with him,” I relay to Thomas, not needing him to reply, as I take in a deep breath, pull out my gun from my shoulder holster, readying myself at the door. Knocking once, hard. Aiming my gun at the door.
The door swings open with force, and I give Marco a lopsided smile as he stands there, unfazed, looking me up and down.
“I was wondering when they would send someone.” He has a slight accent, but I can’t quite pinpoint where it's from.
“Well, here I am.” I motion with my gun for him to step out.
As he does, something feels off; a chill runs over my body as I stare at him.
Something is wrong.
He gives me no fight, and that makes me more nervous.
“It’s sad when grown men become jealous like teenage girls. We’re all here to do the same thing. Trade females and make money.” His words are revolting. He walks in front of me, talking shit. I can’t help but kick his leg, making him fall to his knees. The unexpectedness of my kick caused him to lose his balance and fall forcefully, knocking the air out of him.
With force, I push my gun barrel to his head. “If I could, I’d blow your brains out right now,” I spit down at him. Knowing I can’t let anger overtake me, that’s when shit will get messed up.
He laughs, and at that moment, my vision turns crimson red before I rear back and hit him in the head with the butt of my gun, knocking him out cold. His limp body lies splayed out on his concrete walkway.
I close my eyes for a second, trying my best to calm the anger rising in me. Gripping his wrist, I drag his stupid ass all the way into his house, not caring about what is being dragged and scraped up… His forehead is kissing the concrete, catching on it; I have to pull him harder to unpin him from the spot. I grimace when I see the burn across it, but it doesn’t matter anyway; he’s dead in a short time. I drop him on his tile floor, his head making a thud when it connects to it. Giving me a sickening thrill.
While he’s still out cold, I use his curtain tiebacks to secure his hands behind his back. Everything can always be used for something; I smile at myself as I roll him over with my booted foot.
“Marco, wake up, sleepyhead.” I kick him in his stomach, making him scream in pain, coming out of a dead knockout. Blood seeps from his forehead, trailing down his face.
“You will not get off that easily, boy.” I pull him up by his arm, making him sit on his ass; he sways. He’s years older than me, but I like to fuck with them. Once, he was feared andrespected; now, he gets neither. And I want him to know how far down he has fallen.
Crouching down in front of him, I slap his cheek, forcing his head to the left. “I never can quite understand why men like you decided to go down a different path. You could have had it all,” I say, truly perplexed.
He straightens his head, giving me a bloody smile. “You’re no different from me, boy.” He enunciates that word, thinking he’ll get a rise out of me. I just smile at him.
“You kill for money. You work for men like me. We use men like you to get the job done. If anything, you’re below me.”
My smile widens across my face, morphing my face from neutral to pure evil. I know when he sees it. When I let my mask slip, the one I wear so I can do this job. “What you’re mistaken, Marco, is that men like you are the reason I do what I do. Your evil deeds fill my pockets. There will never be a shortage of men like you. Evil never ceases to exist. But we’re not the same. Where you use women, I protect them from pieces of shit like you.” I rear back, punching him right in his nose, hearing the crunch as my fist connects. His screams are loud, ear-splitting. I stand up, not wanting to give him any more time. “Look at me.” I want him to see the man who ends his shitty existence.
Surprisingly, he does, his eyes are watery, his nose gushing with blood, as I put the barrel of my gun to his forehead. “Also, the difference tonight is I’ll be walking out of here, you want.” I watch his eyes squint as I pull the trigger. His head flies back, and in seconds, he’s laid out on his tiled floor, blood oozing from his wound, pooling in a huge puddle, getting wider.
It's amazing how fast a life is gone. One minute breathing, the next just nonexistent.
I wanted the bullet but decided to leave it, truly not knowing where it is, and really not giving a fuck.
