The Man: a dark romance story

Part Eight

PETER:

There's always a possibility—an inevitability—for consequences when you don't complete a contracted job, whether it be a failure to find an opportune moment or just outright refusal.

It's what happened to mi tió Luis. I would never allow myself down the same path. Not when I had finally found something...someone to live for. Not when I derived so much pleasure from eradicating vermin from the mortal plane.

In my early days as a contract killer, I took most any job I could find in order to make a name for myself. Not everyone I killed back then specifically deserved it; many had just fallen on hard times and made poor decisions that affected others in various ways. I didn't possess enough of a soul to regret who I used to be, but I'm not proud of it, either. I wonder how Jessica would feel about me if she knew.

As I shift from the hustle and bustle of Albuquerque to the open stillness of the New Mexico desert on I-25 North, I can't help but imagine what living a life with Jessica would be like. I had enough money to retire on and live comfortably for the rest of our lives and then some. It was tempting. Damn tempting.

I saw the same darkness in Jessica that I saw in myself. I bore witness to it the first night we met and I could see it reflected in her eyes earlier when she looked at me in the cemetery. She didn't just want me—she craved me, in her words—lack of humanity and all.

I also saw a brightness in her, which I had grown a fondness for while watching her all those months. She possessed a willingness and eagerness to form connections with people and animals, something she would be forced to give up if she ever became a contract killer. Not that I would ever allow it.

It was her darkness that drew me to her initially but the brightness that made me want to give it all up. And I would almost consider it, if I could guarantee our safety. And if I didn't enjoy killing so much.

I decide to change the intended rendezvous point for the target at the last second. The original plan was to meet up at some ritzy dinner party for the socialites of Santa Fe, but as the outskirts of the city begin to drift into view, I change direction and begin heading east to the target's house. The fewer sets of eyes on me, the better.

The only downside was that I had not done much reconnaissance at the victim's home and so the layout and logistics of everything was foreign to me. I didn't know the interior of the house at all, other than what I could see through windows, so it would have to happen in the yard. Most likely the back yard. I knew it had a doorbell camera and another camera over the garage at the front of the house, but I was unsure about the back. With a privacy fence and no nearby neighbors, the backyard would be the optimal place to execute it. I can work around any possible cameras if necessary.

The target was a lawyer at a local law firm who had been embezzling money from the firm for years right under the nose of the owner of said firm. I rarely took personal vendettas nowadays, as they were little more than a pain in my ass, but this one was close enough to Albuquerque to be worth it.

"I'll be at the target's home at roughly 1900 hours. Change of plans," I text the buyer.

The phone dings a few minutes later. It's a foreign number from a burner phone, and I recognize the country code to be Mexico. It was a requirement of mine that buyers use burner phones. Depending on the location, I always had specific instructions on how to ditch the phone after the fact.

"Why? Don't fuck this up for me," it says, causing my jaw to clench.

I'm not sure what it was about my face that made buyers think they could be so brazen with me, but they should really rethink that.