Page 59 of Trigger Happy Ending

The last man standing, the one with the buzzcut, charges at her, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she drops to the floor and sweeps his legs out from under him using the cue. A smooth, practiced motion—she’s definitely had professional martial arts training. I make a mental note to ask her about that.

She’s already on top of him before he even hits the ground, knee in his chest, her blade at his throat. I notice his leather cut has a patch that says “President.” His face pales as Raine pushes the blade into the skin. A thin red line forms across his trachea.

“It’s not a good look for the President of an outlaw motorcycle gang to have their ass kicked by a woman, is it?”

I grin at her savage taunt. She’s clocked the patch too.

“Fuck you, bitch,” he grunts.

“No.” She smiles sweetly before it turns wicked. “Fuck you.”

In one swift motion, she removes the blade from his throat, spins the blade backwards and stabs him in the thigh, immobilizing him. The Raptors’ President howls in pain as he reaches for his leg. Raine swiftly removes the blade from his thigh muscle and jumps to her feet, beckoning me to follow. I step over bleeding legs of the President and take one quick glance at the bloody scene. Some of the guys are starting to wake from their slumber, all groaning in pain, some severely injured.

We need to get the fuck out of here. Agent O will have our fucking heads on a stick if we get caught up in this bullshit and fuck up the assignment.

Outside, Raine swiftly skips down the wooden, rickety steps towards the line of six shiny Harley-Davidsons. She slams her foot into the first Harley, kicking it as hard as she can. It causes a domino effect as all the bikes topple over; the precious metal scraping and scratching on each other and landing hard on the gravel road in a cloud of brown dust.

Just when I think she’s done, she proceeds to slash every tire on every motorbike as a final “fuck you.”

She stands over the last bike and sheaths her blade back into her boot before her eyes find mine. Her pupils are dilated; she looks high on violence. I know the feeling, and I suspect I look similar to her.

“Well, that was fun,” she proclaims. “Now what?”

“You hungry?”

“Fucking starving.”

Guess I’m taking this girl out to lunch.

Chapter 26

Soren

It takes just over an hour to ride back into the city, where we stop by the apartment to change our blood-stained clothes. It’s a sunny, yet chilly afternoon, so we decided to make the most of the fall sunshine. I’m not really sure why I agreed—I’m not really a sunshine kind of guy. A few weeks ago, if you’d told me I’d be sitting on a picnic table in Central Park, with Raine, surrounded by strollers and soccer balls, unpacking sushi, I would have laughed in your face.

It’s almost like we’re two normal people enjoying each other’s company.

Almost.

Except we’re contract killers.

I pull my hoodie tight over my head and catch Raine staring as I do.

Raine drops her eyes and pretends to be invested in her fingernails. She’s wearing black jeans and a tight, white, fuzzy sweater. She looks fucking exquisite.

“I knew you’d be a brawler,” Raine states.

I snuff out air through my nostrils. “What gave it away?”

“Certainly has nothing to do with your profession, and everything to do with the words tattooed on you.”

I half-ass a smile as I look down at the KILL and SHOT tattoos inked across my knuckles.

“You’re one to talk.”

Raine screws up her nose. “He deserved it.”

“He did.”