Page 3 of Mine to Keep
I look at her father, whose bloody face is leaking like a sieve, his wide eyes locked on mine. “No. Your dad decided to fight me, so his death won’t look like an accident. Sorry.”
Judge Bowers’s mouth drops open, disbelief coloring his face. “Teresa, you did this? You’re behind this asshole trying to kill me?”
Her shriek sounds in my ear. “You shouldn’t have answered the phone if he wasn’t dead! He’ll know it’s me.”
“Where he’s going,” I say, pointing my Glock at him again, “he won’t tell anyone.” I give the judge the once-over, noticing the piss stain on the front of his pants, hurt clouding his vision. “I want my fee doubled for this fuck-up. You promised it would be a quick kill. You?—”
“You’re the fucking professional!” she seethes. “You’re the one that knows if a kill is easy or not!”
She’s not wrong, but I don’t admit that to her. I’m tempted to say fuck it and let her get away with her shitty intel, but she’s fucking annoying. Teresa Bowers has been a pain in the ass since she hired my agency, The Void, wanting to know my every move. I was even forced to get this burner phone so she could be in constant contact.
“Fee. Doubled.” I pause to let the unspokenor elsehang in the air. “Do you want to stay on the phone while I do it?” I ask in a bored tone.
“No,” she says quickly and I can hear her jewelry jingling over the phone. “No. Just…just tell me when it’s done. And clean the place up before you leave. I don’t want?—”
“I’m not the clean-up crew. You paid for a hit, I’m doing the hit. That’s all.”
“You listen to me, dammit! You do what I tell you! If I say?—”
I hang up the phone, not wanting to hear her bullshit. Teresa Bowers is tap dancing on my last fucking nerve. After a bullet goes through Judge Bowers’s head and she pays me my money, I’ll have nothing more to do with her. How this crime is spun is no longer on me. She can kiss my ass.
I’ll call my handler and have her charge Teresa for the cleaning crew. This eighty grand is mine now.
“Sorry, Judge. I gotta finish the job.”
I don’t give him time to beg as I lift my gun and pump two bullets into the middle of his forehead. His head kicks back, blood and brain matter splashed across the open safe.
After checking his pulse to ensure he’s dead, I pull my phone out and snap a picture for my company to forward to Teresa. Once that’s done, I take out the burner phone, remove the SIM card and break it in half before sliding the pieces into my pocket. The job is done, no more Teresa Bowers.
Five minutes later, when I’m clearing up my blood from the hallway, my business phone rings. Any call from The Void can’t be good. They never call, leaving it to my handler to relay any information.
“Fuuuuuck,” I groan, pulling my phone from my pocket. “What?” I bark into the receiver.
“Got word you didn’t complete the job as specified. Client is refusing to pay,” The Director says.
“The target is dead. I am owed one hundred and fifty grand. If she doesn’t pay, I will fucking kill her, money be damned.”
The line is quiet for a brief moment before the man on the other end says, “Heard. Give me a minute.” And he hangs up.
I stuff the phone back in my pocket, anger coursing through me.
When I heard where this job was going to be, I should have said no. Arizona holds bad memories for me. But a payday this large doesn’t come around that often. It’ll give me some cushion while I figure out my exit strategy. I should have went with my gut instinct and stayed the fuck away. Nothing good happens to me in Arizona.
Three minutes later, adingsounds on my phone, alerting me that my account received a deposit.
Then it rings again.
“What?” I answer in a hard voice.
“Client had a change of heart but expressed disappointment at being threatened.”
“Don’t give a fuck. Tell her to find another company if she wants someone else killed.” I’m the one that hangs up this time.
I’m pissed The Void almost allowed someone to skip out on paying me. Usually, they don’t give refunds or allow anyone who wants to stiff them to live long after the threat.
After I do a surface level clean-up of my and Judge Bowers’s blood from the hallway, I trot downstairs to locate my gun and make sure I left no other evidence behind.
My phone buzzes again and I snarl as I pull it out. It’s a text from my handler this time.
