"After you," Reginald said, motioning me into a black Ford and looking at me expectantly. I hesitated, trying to convince myself I had nothing to lose. I entered the car.
Reginald came in after me and told his driver to go to some fancy coffee shop a couple of blocks down called "Starbucks". He didn't say anything the whole way until we were seated at a round table by the window and were nursing a steamy cup of Joe.
"So... Ms. Sera Maxwell--that is your name isn't it?" he began, eyeing my every move.
I kept a blank expression and cautiously sipped my coffee. "Yeah. How'd you know?" I replied.
Reginald had brought his laptop with him and seemed to be looking through files. His eyes glowed with idiotic intensity. "As I probably stated earlier, I am part of the organization called the CIA. I'm sure you've heard of us," he stated calmly.
"I don't give bull. What do you want from me?" I snarled in a low voice. I wasn't one who was interested in details, and I'm still not. I like to get straight to the point, no questions asked.
His frown deepened at my remark. "We've been monitoring you for two years, and seeing you in person convinces me--us--that you've got potential. Now, before you cut me off again, let me explain. We've been in need of contracted killer who would keep our hands clean with no doubt or inquiries upon the target. So far, your agility, skill, and--at least from what I heard--intelligence are far more superior than most, and you're what? Nineteen?" he queried, though his expression told me he knew the answer.
"Twenty," I corrected softly, leaning back against my chair. A contract killer? A few thoughts went through my head, and most weren't pretty.
Reginald nodded, the ends of his lips twitching. Darn, he had more. "Also, added to those qualities, you appear to have no traceable background or papers such as a driver's license or a birth certificate. I mean, not even we could find out anymore about you except from the monitors, your first and last name, and age. In the eyes of the public, you're nobody. You can't be traced by any means whatsoever except for the same people sponsoring you: us," he finished.
My fingers ran around the rim of the cup, as I contemplated. I looked up at him, still holding a blank stature. "It's like I'm dead.".
"Exactly," Reginald agreed with furrowed brows. He didn't seem comfortable with the way I put it. Good, he deserved it.
I remember how those mere seconds of thought felt like a decade. Finally, I met his eye. "Fine. I'll do it, 'cause I damn love America," I announced.
YOU ARE READING
One Bullet
AcciónKill. That is what I was trained for, what I lived for. It wasn't always that way. There was once a time when I was a normal girl with a normal mother. The reason of why and how I changed lies in the story of my life. My name is Sera Maxwell, and th...
