I'd Kill You First: when bad meets bad

Chap. 55

JONATHAN:

My gun was in my waist band, my knife was in my pocket, the folder was in my hand. Looking back and forth between the picture in the file and the girl at the bar, I knew she was my target. From my seat in a corner booth, I watched her cry her soul out, the most miserable look on her face.

And I knew, I didn't want to do this. Not anymore. I wanted out.

But getting out was a dream that would never come true. If you wanted out, you had to die to do it.

So I got up, rolled my neck to relieve the tension, and walked over to the bar. It took two seconds for me to realize how easy this would be. She was drunk out of her mind, so all I had to do was get a firm grip on her wrist and pull her from the bar, grinning innocently at the suspicious onlookers.

Once outside in the alley, I slung her to the ground so that she fell to her hands and knees, and I put my gun to her head.

She froze like an iceberg, muscles tense and suddenly alert. Her head lifted very slowly until I was met with bright green eyes, red around the rim but still breathtaking. Now that I was looking at her better, she was gorgeous. I really didn't want to do this.

Her intense stare shifted from the gun at her temple to my face, then to the surrounding alley, and she did something I wasn't prepared for.

She laughed.

She laughed and laughed and laughed until she was clutching her side and gasping for air.

"Good gosh, woman," I muttered in bewilderment, "how much did you drink?"

Instead of answering, she just shook her head as her laughter died down to a chuckle and she scooted back until she was leaning against the wall before me.

"You have noooooooo idea," she slurred, head rolling as she drawled out the word, "how ironic tonight has been."

I tilted my head to the side in absolute confusion. "What are you talking about?"

I was stalling, and I knew it. I didn't want to kill such a young, beautiful girl.

"Do you have any idea," she said with a hiccup, "how many times I've done this exact thing to someone? How crazy it is that this is exactly what my life comes down to? These moments in dark alleys?"

Now I was genuinely curious, but I didn't let my guard down just in case she was actually crazy. "I don't understand," I said simply, still looking for a way out of murdering her. It would just add to the slide show of faces my dreams made me watch every night.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" she asked with a distant, hazy voice, eyes seemingly seeing through me as she stared blankly at my chest.

"You're my client," I said with a shrug. "I know what I need to know."

"But do you?" she asked, this time meeting my eyes. Those eyes. "Have you ever seen any of the Jason Bourne movies?"

I blinked twice at the random question but shook my head. "No, why?"

"Because I'm about to steal his logic," she murmured, hiccuping again. She didn't really talk that much like a drunk.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair and stared at me with pain-filled eyes. "You were sent to kill me," she stated. "Why?"

"Because... Because you..." I stopped myself, frowning. Why? Why was I here? Wait... "How did you know I was sent?"

She waved it off like she was swatting a fly. "Answer the question. Why are you going to kill me?"