"Do you want cream?"
"Oh, a pee fetish and a food fetish too? Kinky." Despite the fact he was still reminding me of that fateful night at the club, I let out a traitorous laugh. "You'll be lucky if you ever find out what I really like in bed, Roman...
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Killing is like an addiction to me.
In this life everyone I killed was guilty of some kind of crime which made it easier. But I loved the thrill of it, that rush of adrenaline that you get. Alex is exactly the same which is why we're such a good match.
It started with that one house where we killed pretty much everyone, followed by another and then another. I guess my father saw how happy we were because he gave us more 'hands on' assignments like that; bigger drug runs, meetings that would often end up with someone dead, assassinations, and my personal favourite - torture sessions.
It was those moments when I felt like a better version of myself again, even if I was at my worst. It was a weird kind of paradox. But I was my best self when I was doing things like that.
It was just who I was.
The next two weeks passed by with Alex and I busy with work. When we we weren't working we were drinking, smoking, and getting high.
We were also training - something we were doing separately now.
I think that was the biggest adjustment I had to make. Usually our routine was the same, we pretty much did everything together. But now he was training with some bitch in another gym so I had to do it alone.
Okay so maybe she wasn't a bitch, or she might have been, I didn't know her.
"You done with that one?"
I looked at the bruised and bloodied man in front of me and then at Alex who was busy texting his latest lay as if we weren't in the middle of an interrogation.
"Yeah, he hasn't said anything." Releasing a breath I stepped back, narrowly missing a puddle of blood that was left by the previous guy.
The one thing I didn't like about this job was all the blood that splattered everywhere. It almost just ruined my white Jordans.
Maybe I just shouldn't wear white trainers on these jobs.
Today it was a group of three men. One of them had already rendered themselves useless so Alex left him in the kitchen to 'await his fate' while we dealt with the next two in turns.
"Did you hit him hard enough?" His stupid question had me glaring, but his eyes were still trained on his phone. The puta was probably sending him nudes or something. It was the only way to keep his attention for more than two minutes.
"He's out cold, of course I hit him hard enough."
"I don't know, sometimes I think your technique is lacking something. You need to put more heart and soul into if you want screams that lead to getting answers, you know?"
"No, I don't know." He finally looked at me after my disgruntled response. "Let me give you some advice Ro. Next time, why don't you try and ask him some questions before you knock him out?"
