killer, gbd (EDITING)

5

"How far back?" I ask, checking my side view mirror.

"2 cars, the black truck. Could have been a bit more conspicuous," His posture tightens, and he reaches behind his seat blindly. He drops a handgun into my lap followed by a magazine and a box of bullet. "Load, we'll need it."

Picking open the box, I slide bullets into the magazine until it is full, then palm it into place within the gun. "German brand, huh," I admire then gun for a moment.

The corner of Grayson's lips raise as he glances at me, "A personal preference," As we turn ourselves onto a less populated road, he sinks the pedal further. I feel myself push back into the seat, I watch carefully behind us. As expected, the black Suburban makes the turn, now directly behind us.

"He's gaining," I tell Grayson, watching as the truck rapidly nears up. I suck in a breath and click the safety off on the gun.

"Not yet," His hand reaches out, pushing down on the gun and my hand. His hand encases mine, holding it until he has the chance to look at me. Scanning my face, he must have found whatever he was looking for because he takes his hand off of mine and focuses on the road. The engine rumbles as he pushes even faster down the road. "We have to lead them to where it will be easy to hide evidence." Grinning, he watches them in the rear view.

"You know a place?" My heart thumps a bit harder in my chest, the anticipation eats at me.

"There's a lake ahead, sound sufficient?" Thinking the question was rhetorical, I am surprised when he turns to me for input.

"Yeah, are you still going to call clean up?" I ask, a lake would hide evidence, but I've never done a mission without calling in clean up, no matter how well I hid my footsteps.

"I never call clean up," He mutters, his upper lip curled. My brows raise, am I paranoid or is he stupid? His past actions confirm that my second assumption is more likely.

Far from most houses, farms in the far distance, Grayson begins to slow down. "Ready?" He asks, biting down on his lip as he watches his rear view.

"Always, baby," I laugh and pull back on the slide. Rolling my window down, I grip the gun and ready my trigger finger. Grayson brings the car to a near stop and the black truck screeches as it slows.

I swing my arm out of the window, aim, and fire. The bullet pierces the windshield and hits the driver. Pulling back in the slide a second time, I aim for the man on the passenger side. Before I can fire, a bullet flies from the windshield and a loud pop comes from one of our hind tires.

"Bastard," I growl under my breath. A second bullet fired puts him down, from there I pull myself back into the car. "He hit our back tire, I can't see any others." I check again, moving side to side to get the best prospective.

"We have a spare," He fists a magazine into his own gun and exits the car, aimed and ready. I keep watch, preparing myself to jump out of he needs me.

Grayson opens a back door, finds nothing, but keeps his guard up until he checks the back. Sticking his thumb into the air, I get out of the car, leaving the gun behind. Grayson shuts the truck and side door and gives me a smile. "Nice shot, Kitten." He opens the driver's side door and points to where the bullet had caught driver, just off the center of his forehead. I nod, impressed that I made the shot with the angles I was given.

"Stop calling me that." My lip raises. He grins at me, rolling his eyes dramatically. Gently leaning the body over the center console, he turns the steering wheel towards the pond.