Lost in Salvation

24. You Better Run

Lorelei

4 Years Ago

The lights flicker in the cool, dimly lit parking garage, giving way to shivers that quickly snake up my spine. Hairs pinprick at the back of my neck, standing in attention with awareness as I line up my shot. Someone is here so I need to make this quick, I can't fuck up this job.

Taking a deep, laboring breath, I stare intently through the scope of my rifle, trying and failing to steady my hands. The man I'm about to kill isn't a good one, he's been peddling money through a series of highly dangerous drug rings thought to be responsible for numerous overdoses over the years. It was only a matter of time before a hit was hired on his head and the price is well worth the trouble. Only problem is, I think I'm about to be ambushed. 

I have a very short window to execute perfection. 

The man in question belly laughs with his friend at the very expensive Italian restaurant he is seated in. During my client research, I learned that Drudo Scott dines here like clockwork, every Wednesday night at exactly 8:30. He eats gnocchi and sips on a bottle of terribly sour red wine, enjoying his time with what are most likely the drug dealers he does business with. The stars twinkle overhead, moon in full bloom tonight, giving me just the perfect balance of darkness and light. The streets bustle with cars and people zooming by, too enamored with their own lives to notice me, far too distracted to spot a very real Grim Reaper hiding in their midsts. 

Again, I line up the little red dot with the right temple of Mr. Scott. The unassuming, far too jolly man shoving overpriced, authentic Italian cuisine down his throat, has greying sideburns that sit right next to the spot that's about to have a 7.62mm bullet through it. I should feel bad, if I were any other person, if I had any other family upbringing, I might care. I might think about his family or the fact that I'm about to take yet another human life. I could question what kind of person that makes me, but all I can see is a job, and the money that comes with it. Drudo Scott is a bad man and his criminal lifestyle was bound to catch up with him eventually, I just don't think he expected it to be in the form of a Phoenix assassin. 

My heart pounds in my chest, bouncing around in my head like an echo. Behind me, I hear footsteps. Though they still seem to be on the lower level of the complex, they're growing closer, and my time is running out. I can make out multiple hushed whispers as I shut my eyes to focus, but I can't deduce just how many people are about to ruin my plans. Cops? No, that wouldn't make any sense, in all my years I've never been caught by law enforcement. It is a parking garage, could just be regular people coming back from their own nighttime outings. 

My instincts tell me otherwise. These people's footfalls are too calculated, their voices too hushed, they know what they're doing. 

Quickly, I dig my knees into the dirty, hard concrete, forcing myself to stay still. My rifle grinds against the flat surface of the ledge I've placed it on. Pursing my lips, I hover my finger over the trigger, everything in place to book it as soon as I take my shot. 

I never get my chance, because when the sharp edge of a knife stops just short of slicing my throat, my near perfect shot wizzes straight past the target, imbedding itself into the wall directly behind Drudo.

"Hello Lori." 

Present 

The second the lights kick off, my fear goes into overdrive. "Guys, this is insane! You can't just-"