Just Another Job

A Hired Gun

All right guys, this is it! The sequel to Cats VS Dogs. It's a little different, but I hope you'll like it! 

For any new readers, this is a sequel, and while it will make sense, I highly recommend you read the first book, Cats VS Dogs, first. 

Picture of Cobalt on the sidebar! 

I checked my watch for the third time. He had to be coming out soon. I couldn't wait around out here forever. After all, my time was valuable. 

My cellphone quietly vibrated in my black jeans pocket. I shifted the mean-looking knife I held to my right hand and dug the phone out, pressing the "accept call" button. 

"Cobalt, where the hell are you?" I grimaced and held the phone away from my ear. Ian, my partner, tended to get a little excitable and loud. 

"Waiting. I'll be done soon," I answered softly. 

"Sure, that's no problem. I'll just leave this black mustang running out here on the street and ignore the stares that people are starting to give me," Ian told me sarcastically.

I was about to reply when I heard the bar door open twenty feet down from the wall I was leaning on. I ended the call and slipped the phone back in my pocket, taking up my knife in my left hand again. I preferred guns usually - knives were messy - but silence was imperative. I didn't need my cover blown by the sound of a gunshot. 

The scumbag I was currently assigned to kill stumbled out of the bar, obviously drunk. I didn't know why he was added to my list, but that wasn't really my concern. 

I walked up behind him, not needing to be careful. He was too drunk to see, much less hear me. I didn't relish the job like some of the others I had worked with. I was just good at it, and too bitter to cope with anything else. Besides, it paid well. 

I reached around the drunken man and silently slit his throat. He gasped and gurgled, the blood spurting out in front of him. I was already on my way out of the dark alley when I heard his body hit the wet cement. I slid the bloody knife inside my jacket to be cleaned later. 

I exited the alley, ambling along nonchalantly. My platinum blond hair didn't really blend into the night like my clothes, but dyeing it a different color would do seriously weird things to my panther fur. Yes, I'm a shifter. I can turn into a panther at will. That wasn't really applicable to my job, but the enhanced strength and stealth that came with it were.

My partner, Ian, was also a shifter. A werewolf. Don't ask how we were able to get along and work so well together, I honestly have no idea. Ian wasn't as volatile as I was. In fact, calling Ian a wolf wasn't entirely correct. A golden retreiver might be more appropriate. I chuckled at my thoughts, knowing Ian would kill me if he heard them. Literally. My golden retriever partner was just as good at his job as I was. 

I rounded the corner and strolled towards the black mustang running at the curb. I yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat. 

"Took your time, I see," Ian muttered, shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb. 

"Quit complaining; I had to do the part of this job that required more than basic driving skills," I retorted, drawing my knife out of my jacket.

"Waiting in the car is always harder than the actual killing, as if you didn't know," Ian said. He glanced at the knife in my hands as I wiped it off. "Did he put up much of a fight?" he asked.

I gave him an exasperated look. "Why do you care?"

Ian shrugged and held up his hands. "Dude, it's called bonding. I'm trying to bond with you."