Page 45 of The Cleaner

His ego visibly swells at my words. "That I can, Lily. That I can. But first, let's see what you have to offer, shall we?"

He gestures toward the bed, and I force myself to giggle nervously. "Of course, Mr. Manthin. Whatever you say." God, being so naive actually makes me hurt. I know there are girls and women out there who are actually like this, and I hate that people like this animal will hurt them due to it.

As I perch on the edge of the bed, I watch him pour himself a drink from the mini-bar. Perfect. I slip my hand into my purse, fingers closing around the small needle in there. This is the drug that I’ve been using since my second kill. It’s the perfect concoction.

"So tell me, Lily," Leon says. “What makes you special?"

I swallow hard, playing up the nervousness. "I... I'm willing to do anything," I whisper, letting a tremor enter my voice. "Anything at all."

His eyes light up with sick pleasure. "Is that so?" He moves toward me, glass in hand, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Well then, let's see just how willing you are, shall we?"

As he reaches for me, I make my move. I take a hold of his hand and watch the smile play on his lips. I pull out the needle and plunge it into his finger. His eyes widen in shock and confusion as the drug takes effect almost instantly. Since that first kill with Ciarán and Travis, we upped the dose a little. Now I don’t have to wait for it to kick in. It’s instantaneous.

"What... what did you..." he slurs, stumbling backwards.

I stand up, dropping the naive act entirely. "Justice, Mr Manthin. That's what I just did."

He tries to lunge at me, but his movements are uncoordinated. He slides into the chair, gripping a hold of the edge, watching me with fearful eyes. "Who... who are you?" he manages to gasp out.

I laugh a little. “They call me the Hanging Reaper.”

His eyes widen in recognition, fear replacing the confusion. "No... it can't be..."

I smile coldly, pulling the rope from my purse. "Oh, but it is. Your time's up, Leon. You've hurt your last child."

He tries to stand, to fight, but the drug has rendered him helpless. His limbs are heavy, uncooperative. I move swiftly, efficiently. It's a routine that has become second nature, no matter who the target is. The rope coils smoothly around his neck, a familiar act that doesn't bring back the memories of that terrible day.

Fortunately, Leon is not one of the larger men I've had to kill, so hoisting him up is not as much of a struggle as it has been with others. I use the window and a sturdy metal beam meant for holding up heavy curtains to secure the rope. It's a simple task, effortless even.

Leon's feet hang limply just inches from the floor. His face turns first red, then purple as he struggles for air. I watch with detached indifference, my mind filled with thoughts of all thelives he's ruined. All those innocent children he's stolen and sold like mere commodities.

I move with purpose and reach for the chair, bringing it under his feet but knocking it over before he can use it for leverage to end this torture. I watch as he continues to struggle, every inch of him turning red as he struggles for air. It’s over within a matter of minutes. He stops moving, stops fighting. It’s just done.

"This is for them," I whisper to myself, once again reminding myself why I do this. I give Leon’s lifeless body one last look before I exit the hotel room, keeping my head down and ensuring I stay out of sight.

Exiting the hotel is easy. I pull in a deep breath as I walk toward my car. It’s done. He’s dead. But I know there are so many more men and women out there who are exactly like Leon or even worse. They’re all ready to prey on unsuspecting innocent children and women. They’re bastards. It doesn’t matter how many we take out, more of them seem to appear. I won’t stop doing this. I see how happy and free Devin is, and I know that it’s the right thing. There are others out there who don’t have someone like me who can kill their demons.

I slide into the car and take yet another deep breath. I reach for the key to switch the ignition on, when I see a motorcycle enter the street and park three cars in front of me. My heart pounds against my chest as I recognise who it is.

Maverick.

God, what the hell is he doing here?

Chapter

Nineteen

MAVERICK

Entering the hotel,I flash Judy, the woman on reception, a smile. She nods her head and slides the keycard to me. We've been using this hotel for years to conduct a lot of our business. With it being close to the airport, it made sense to get close to the owner, Judy's father. He knows what we do and has no problem with that, seeing as having us associated with him gives him a certain level of protection, along with status. It's a win-win for us all.

I take the keycard and see that Judy's written the room number on it for me. Room 412. Leon Manthin.

I got a call from Cole James, Travis’s son. In recent years, Cole has taken over from Travis and started to hand out more assignments to me and Stephen. We both tend to take them on as we get paid well, and the James' are people who know what the hell they're doing. Although, word on the street is that Travis hasn't taken a backseat; that the person he had been training is taking on so many jobs that he's with them. I'm not sure if it's something I believe or not as Travis James isn't a man who will train someone for years. He gives them the basics and lets them fly.

I wonder if that new girl he had years ago panned out for him. He was insistent on having someone help him train her.

As I climb the stairs, my mind drifts back to that girl Travis was so keen on. I can’t remember her name. Hell, I’m not even sure if he gave me one. I remember Travis being uncharacteristically excited about her potential. He said she had a natural talent for the work, but needed refining. That was unusual for Travis—he typically preferred recruits who had their shit together already.

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