Page 1 of A Past Too Broken

The winter chill seeps into my bones, even through layers of warm clothing. Licking my chapped lips, I long for a cigarette—not because I crave the nicotine, but as something to stave off the boredom. Unfortunately, I’ll have to make do with the lack of stimulation for my brain, as I can’t risk dropping a butt and leaving DNA by way of saliva behind.

Checking the time on my watch, I see I have about twenty minutes before my mark should be in position, so I settle in for the wait. I’m glad I decided to bring a blanket with me because it’s colder than originally predicted tonight, so much so that I can see my breath with every exhale.

Looking through the scope, I take in the already familiar sights, making sure everything is lined up perfectly. I have to adjust a few times when the wind comes up, ruffling my hair and making me shiver. When I’m sure I’ve accounted for all eventualities, I reach into my pocket, pulling out the piece of gum I’d brought. Carefully, I fold the wrapper and stick it back in my pocket after shoving the gum in my mouth. A last check of my watch shows I have five minutes, so I stop messing around and adjust my position, checking to make sure the angle of my rifle is placed perfectly.

My heart rate begins to slow, and I forget I’m freezing my ass off as my brain compartmentalizes all the trivial things so I can focus on the job at hand.

Through the scope, I watch as the door in the apartment opens and my mark walks in. I track him as he goes through his routine: tossing keys on the table in the entryway, kicking his shoes off under the same table, and crossing the space to the kitchen, where he disappears behind a wall. I can’t see him, but I know him so well, I can confidently say he’s undoing his tie and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

Sure enough, a few moments after I lose sight of him, he returns with his tie undone, along with the first few buttons on his dress shirt. He has a can of Modelo clutched in his hand.

He doesn’t hesitate to plop down in his recliner, which is perfectly positioned across from the window I’m looking in. He pops the tab of his beer and takes a healthy swing.

Blowing out a slow breath, I focus in on my target, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathes.

The world around me disappears, and I finger the trigger. I take slow, measured breaths, before one last deeper one. As I exhale, instincts honed on pulling the trigger, hell breaks loose.

Movement behind the mark takes my focus, and I quickly move my finger away from the trigger, watching in horror as the door to the apartment opens. My mark moves, looking behind him as someone walks through the door, but he’s too slow to do anything. All I can do is watch as a blade flies through the air, almost too fast for my eyes to track, and hits the mark on the shoulder.

My heart races in my chest even as I curse out thebastardcurrently closing in on my mark.

He yanks the knife from the mark’s shoulder and shoves him into his recliner, kicking the can of spilled beer out of his way.

I watch in equal parts impressed and rage, as he kills my mark. I can’t see what exactly happens from the angle, but it’s easy to figure he’s not here to discuss something over tea and cookies.

I should shoot him. As I stare at the dark hair at the back of the bastard’s head, all I can think about is taking my shot, but the last thing I need is to gain a reputation of being messy. I’m not sure becoming known as having my kill stolen from me will be any better, though.

As if the kill stealer can read my thoughts, he spins around, smiles, andblows me a fucking kiss.

Cursing, I pull back and pack up my gun, only taking care to make sure it’s broken down and put away properly because I don’t want to damage it. Grabbing my blanket, I throw my hood up and stalk off the roof, making more noise than I should but unable to curb the anger rolling through me. My ears feel hot, and the need for a cigarette and something heavy to throw at that fucking bastard rushes through me.

Who fucking does that? Just waltzes in and steals a man’s kill? It’s not like he didn’t know I was there. His actions at the end proved that.

The farther I walk to get back to my car, the more pissed I become. The utter fuckingaudacityof that motherfucker.

After putting my gun and blanket in the trunk, I climb into the driver’s seat and slam my hands on the steering wheel.

“Punk ass motherfucker,” I snarl. “Better not get within fifty feet of me. I’ll blow his damn head off.”

Unwilling to draw suspicion by having a tantrum in the car, I start it up and barely let it warm up before pulling away.

When I’m sure I’m not being followed, I press a button on the steering wheel and give a few short and clipped commands.

The call is picked up after a handful of rings.“It’s done?”

“No,” I growl. “Some asshole got there first.”

Hollis, the hacker I pay very well to help with the research of each job, takes a moment to respond,“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I was all set to pull the trigger and bam! Some fucker strolls in and not only takes my kill buttauntsme at the same time!”

“That’s… concerning. Do you know who it was?”

“No, but he better hope I never find out because I will cut him into strips and feed them to Reggie.”

“You can’t feed people to your cat,”Hollis says, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.“I’ll let Cash know. Expect a call from him soon. Any intel on the guy? I’m sure Cash will want to know, and I’ll see what I can find on my end.”

“Shorter than the mark, young, probably around Molly’s age, Asian descent, dark hair and eyes, that’s all I could see.”Fine ass, but I don’t think that’s a detail Hollis wants.

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