The Hitman, his Baby & it's mother( ON HOLD)

Chapter-1

I never pictured myself sitting in my barely furnished living room at ten in the morning, while the neighbor's dog barked its heart out, chasing squirrels in the backyard. The summer in Carson City, Nevada, seemed to have become much hotter, and the sunlight that streamed through the double-pane glass windows of my single-story, three-bedroom house scorched it with vengeance. The lumpy couch only made my mood more dour.

I couldn't even remember spending a quiet morning in my home in the past three years. So why was I here, neglecting the most important mission that demanded unwavering attention?

Well, four months and two days back, on a particularly rough day of my life, I met a crazy old man in a bar downtown and tempted fate.

Somehow, I still remember that messed-up day.

"Is the seat taken?" the Santa Claus look-alike asked with a grin, and I wanted to punch him right in the face. I looked around the deserted bar to indicate that he couldn't.

"I think you could use the company," the white beard of that man stretched when he smiled, and I grunted my dislike when he took the chair next to me.

"I don't need company, not now, not ever," was all I said, which earned me another loaded smile.

He was calm until I ordered another whiskey neat.

"Believe me when I say this, Son, everybody deserves company. I have been a doctor for almost 45 years now, and I know things," he said when I downed the drink in a single go.

"If that's the case, you will leave me alone," I bit out, ordering another drink to feel the burn down my throat and to escape the drowning noise in my ears at the thought of the near-miss in the job.

"Mistakes happen, Son," I swerved my head to the side and looked at him in shock, then hesitantly asked, "Do you know me?"

"Not necessary to know you, Son, to interpret that look." I don't know if it was because I was drunk, but his words sounded cryptic.

"Is that so? Then let me introduce myself. I am Oscar Hunt, a budding hitman," he seemed unperturbed to hear that. It also didn't affect the prevalent smile on his face.

"Interesting profession to add budding to it, Son. Does it have some significance?" He seemed honestly interested when he asked that.

"When it was all I could think about in the past year, then it's significant, I think," I answered despite the annoyance he caused.

"So what happened today has a serious impact on your future then?" He asked with a thoughtful expression on his face.

It was already midnight, and the bar was completely deserted save for us. The light music in the background floated around us, creating a cocoon. I felt encouraged to talk more.

"I came close to death if that's what you're asking. Today's sloppy work was not something I am proud of," I truthfully admitted.

"Were you worried that you were not leaving anything behind when you came close to death?" The old man stunned me again by his insight.

That morning when my mark in Vegas positioned his gun on me, I couldn't stop myself from wondering what have I left behind. I was no way near the legacy I wanted to build.

"I am, I think. I diligently worked on my mark for more than a week but still faced a gun pointed at my face. I could have ended up dead with nothing to show for my life," the words were from my heart. I didn't bother masking my emotions.

"What are your thoughts about donating your sperm?"

The man's ability to constantly stun me started bothering me at that point. It felt like he had not heard me say what I was, a hitman, that too, only a budding one according to Will.

"I thought doctors cared about people. Do you want a hitman to father children? Isn't that going against your profession?"

"Son, you seem more deserving to be a father than many I had seen in my long life. I want you to come to my clinic in the morning and deposit your sperm," he informed me rather than just suggesting.

As screwed up as it sounded, I couldn't stop myself from thinking about it. Maybe it was what the old man said; the idea that I deserved to be a father felt good.

"Are you serious about it?" I asked again, just to confirm.

"Son, I'm old enough that I don't say something I don't mean," he replied, reaching into his slacks pocket to remove a card which he placed on the bar counter, motioning for me to take it.

"I'll think about it," I said uncertainly.

"You and I both know that you've already made your decision, son. I'll see you in the morning," he replied with a confident smirk, removing his suit jacket from the chair and giving me a pat on the back before leaving.

Now, I was left to face the consequences alone because he died two months ago. I had called his clinic a day before to request that they dispose of my samples. The thought of having children out there without my knowledge didn't sit well with me.

The doorbell rang, disrupting my thought.

As I opened the door, my heart leaped into my throat at the sight of the person standing on the other side. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced since that fateful conversation with Paul, four months and two days ago.

"May I come in?" she asked hesitantly.

"Co...co...come in," I stuttered, mentally berating myself for my uncharacteristic nervousness. After all, I was a hitman.

She was wearing a calf-length cloak that didn't reveal much, but from what I could see, she was definitely pregnant.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything. When the clinic called, they said you were angry. I thought it would help if we talked face to face," she said, while removing her cloak.

It would have been better if she had left it on. The bright summer dress she was wearing underneath showed the bump clearly. My child was growing there, and suddenly it seemed to have sucked up all the air around me because I couldn't breathe.

"Mr. Hunt, are you okay?" That was the last thing I heard before everything went black.