Page 85 of Whistleblower

The container was emptied at record speed, then lightly bleached to help with the smell. Afterward, I took my place inside, to wait…

And wait.

I used to enjoy the calm before the storm. My job is very calculated, and it’s far more planning than action. There are long periods of calm, followed by short bursts of excitement. I can imagine what Eden assumes about the side of my life I try to hide from her. It’s not nearly as eventful as she probably thinks it is. Most of my time is spent waiting and wasting time. I never used to mind…but those were the days before I had something I was eager to return home to.

I was reluctant to leave Eden behind, unable to tell her where I was going and when I’d be back. I’m not even sure if she’s aware I left the state. But she’s incredible that way. She didn’t ask for details or whine that she’d miss me, and she didn’t beg me to stay. She kissed me goodbye and told me to be safe. While she doesn’t approve of what I do, she certainly seems forgiving.

Forgiving is good. With forgiveness, is hope.

I hear the low murmur of voices approaching, so I rise, abandoning my chair and positioning myself in the corner, away from the light. I don’t have a visual as the loading door opens, but I count the footsteps.

“Ey, yo—it’s empty. Is this the right one?” the first voice asks.

“Fucking ‘course it is. The key worked right?”

Another voice. Another pair of footsteps trailing behind.

“This ain’t good. Why is it fucking empty?” the first voice asks again.

“There’s supposed to be three girls going to one house and five going to the other. All I see is a chair.” There’s one more new voice as they all stomp like idiots into the dark container, still completely unaware of my presence in the back corner. This is the difference between thugs and professionals. Never walk into a dark enclosure, especially when what you were supposed to find, is missing. To anyone with some fucking sense, this is obviously a trap.

Hand on my pistol, I almost make my move, but something in my gut tells me to wait.

Just wait.

“Who goes to who?” There it is—a final new voice, the last set of footsteps. I can leave no witnesses behind tonight.

“Doesn’t matter, a bitch is a bitch. But it’s no good if we can’t find them.”

I’ve heard enough. I inhale and hold my breath.

It’s so quick.

One step forward, three pulls on the trigger, and then, by the time I exhale, the tip of my gun is pressed against the head of the only man left standing. The rest of my guests are lying motionless on the ground, beginning to bathe in their blood.

I pull down on the dangling metal chain above my head, turning on an overhead light so he can see the hot fury in my eyes. His eyes fill with fear in response as he assesses the scene of his associates dead on the ground. He’s a burly piece of shit, that’s for sure. His size alone would’ve terrified those women…but not me. All that extra weight just means he’ll hit the ground harder when my bullet wedges between his eyes.

“Wait,” he pleads. I recognize him as the one who delicately explained that a bitch is a bitch. “Stop, please. I have information.”

Ah fuck. Those are the magic words. “Then speak quickly,” I snarl.

“D-don’t kill me,” he stammers. “I’ll…I’ll tell you if you don’t kill me.”

“Tell me what?” I ask as I press my gun harder against his forehead.

“There are more… More containers are coming.” He sucks his breath in short gasps. “More guns. More women.”

“Sit down.” I nod toward the chair. “Now.”

He must be eager to live, because he’s very obedient. He whimpers when he slips in a puddle of blood that’s pooling from his friends. For someone who treats other people’s lives so carelessly, he certainly seems horrified to see one taken away.

“Sit still,” I hiss. With him shifting uncomfortably in the small chair, I’m convinced the metal legs are going to snap under his weight. “Are you armed?” I ask, more for curiosity than anything. He nods and holds his hands up in surrender.

“Left pocket. Just take it.”

I snort. “Keep it for all I care. But I warn you, you’re outmatched in speed and skill. You’d be dead before finishing the thought of pulling a gun on me.”

“Who are you?”

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