“I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal.”
That said, he drew out a long kitchen knife from his belt and advanced toward
the woman. Having ample time to prepare, Suzanne cocked her right leg and then swung
it forward with all the power she could tap into. The top of her foot landed
squarely on Kevin’s testicles and he crumpled to the sidewalk like a marionette
whose strings had been cut. Standing over the moaning man, she kicked the knife
into a patch of ivy, then quickly surveyed the neighborhood for any prying eyes.
Satisfied she hadn’t been seen, she grabbed Kevin by his collar and dragged him
down the driveway into the garage, out of sight of her neighbors.
The
blinding pain began to subside, and Kevin looked around the garage through his
tears. His eyes landed on Suzanne’s running shoes. He twisted his aching body
to a sitting position and could now see that she was holding a hammer and angry
as hell. “Sorry,” he said.
“Sorry?”
she yelled, then immediately brought the decibel level of her voice down. “You
are the worst fucking assassin on the entire planet.”
“I never
killed anyone before.”
“That’s
obvious. My five-year old daughter could have done a better job than you. I
cannot believe Jason would hire a bum off the streets to murder me and not a
professional.”
“We did
discuss that—“
“Shut up. I
should call the cops right this minute, but…”
“But what?”
he asked hopefully.
“You’re
mine now. I own you. Say it.”
“What?”
“Say I own
you.”
“I…you own
me.”
“Good. Now I want you to kill Jason.
I’ll pay you $60,000.”
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