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"I like you, in my t-shirt." his voice was low. Dark. Hot.
"I prefer it on the bedroom floor." I tease, although, it wasn't really a joke.
"Ah, you make this so hard for me." he sounded angry, yet he never raised his voice.
"What's...
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"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
The sound of guns loading echoed through my earpiece, as the low rumbling of an incoming boat moved ever closer.
The silence and anticipation was deafening as we all waited for Ana's command.
She had full view of everything that was taking place; unlike the rest of us, who were currently hiding.
The night air was crisp and clean, the sea danced under the moonlight and waves rippled to the shore. To the untrained eye, it looked peaceful. But soon, it would be far from it.
Quiet voices came into ear shot as the lights from the boat continued to get brighter making shadows dance along the bank.
"Alright, nows your chance." Ana's voice filled my ear. And just like that, the action began.
Gun shots were fired. Bullets flew. Punches were thrown. People were killed.
Ana barked warnings in everyone's ears warning us of approaching attacks we were unable to see.
Blood coated the floor and cry's off mercy rang through the dock. Miguel's men weren't prepared and this was made obvious when all the dead bodies piling up happened to be his.
A tall tattooed covered man with slicked black hair approached me. Beady obnoxious filled eyes pierced mine as the smell of poorly made expensive cologne wafted up my nose.
I strutted over to him, a seductive sway in my hips, catching him off guard. My confidence confused him exposing is vastly misogynistic views.
Men like him are always the most fun to kill.
His eyes traced my body while licking his lips.
"Las cosas que le voy a hacer a ese cuerpo." His tongue spat in my direction. [The things I'm going to do to that body.]
My eyes rolled in disgust. Sexist, self-centred assholes like him deserve to be put in there place. And who better to do so than a woman.
I threw a fist at his face, knocking him back. He grabbed his nose, which was now crooked and broken from the unexpected strength of my punch.
I love when people underestimate me and then I prove them wrong. I extract so much joy from it.
I slid a knife out of my pocket and spun it round my fingers tauntingly. The blade weaved in and out, dancing over my hand.
