The thunder overhead was enough to send any reasonable person running back into their house. But the one man who still sat under the patio of a local cafe didn't seem to know that.
He was waiting, and at that moment. Waiting was the key to victory, and he needed a victory. It would be good for him. To finally feel like a winner.
The rain was a thick blanket over the pavement. It was a good day for killing, they wouldn't see him coming.
Seeing his target pass by in a black Sedan, the man looked down at his news papers. He had been here long enough to know that the target would cross last the patio at exactly 5:30. Like he had every day for the past two months.
Now back to the waiting game. Like a polar bear, when waiting for a seal to come to its hole in the ice.
Someone had once told him that, and it almost made him laugh ever so slightly. Almost.
Just as expected at 5:30 sharp CJ Sabre passed the patio, and the mans grip on his gun got tight as he prepared to pull it out.
Before anything could be said, he pulled out the gun and fired. Expecting Sabre to fall, but he never did.
It was then that he saw the man in the long black coat stalking toward him, did he get scared. CJ hadn't had a guard in years. He tried to tell himself.
The small self pep talk didn't work very well, for the man soon found himself, sprinting down the street and away from the target. And the man in the coat.
A sharp sound drew him from his thoughts of fear, and suddenly he was met with a face full of gravel. Almost like he had fallen off a motorcycle, it was what he compared it to.
"I wonder what happened? Who shoved me onto the ground? I thought it was supposed to hurt more when you got a face of concrete." he thought.
The next thought was less bright. "Wait a second, why's my chest all wet?" he thought, lifting his hand away. It was red, red like the sunset of a strawberry moon. Red like color of passion.
And it was all coming out of him, without his permission.The damn red stuff was betraying him. Allowing him to bleed here on this concrete.
Rough hands flipped him back over, and the man found himself face to face with a pare of pale green eyes. They were full of an anger not even the man had seen before. And the retired Green Beret had seen a lot of shit in his time.
He was thirty years old and had seen more than most people could even dream of seeing. What a shame it would all be wasted today?
Wait a second, those pale green eyes. They had looked down on him before. When he had been shot in service. Dr. Briggs had helped him to recover. But this wasn't Briggs, it couldn't be. Briggs was a life saver. Not one who took life.
He was a very good person, unlike the man and many of his other friends who had decided to go into the same type of service.
However the eyes didn't lie, and when the shooter leaned closer, the man could see that it was indeed Dr. Briggs. Why was he here? What did he have to do with an international weaponry and drug deal?
The man tried to make his thoughts form into words, but his damn mouth just didn't want to work. His good for nothing body was once again going to fail him when he needed to use it the most.
Dr. Briggs gave a smile, that gave the man chills. He was happy, he knew that the man was going to die from this wound. But it didn't after to him.
Well that filled the man with a very large amout of rage. "Who said that he was allowed to have his life bleed out of him right here? Who the hell said that the very doctor that had once saved him was allowed to take his life now?" he thought, halting at the doctor.
"Hello Bryant, and beautiful little situation you seem to have here. I remember the day you came into my care at the hospital. Than you were more than ready to die, but now. You seem to have a little more fight left." he said with a grin.
"Fuck you Briggs," the man choked out. Well great, now his body was ready to do a few last favors for him.
"Aw, if that really how you should speak to an old friend," Briggs cooed teasingly.
This made the man want to punch the doctor in his smug perfect little face. See how he likes it then. How he would like it if his life was bleeding out here, instead of Bryant.
Briggs seemed to loose interest as he stood. The target came very close. So close that the man could have pulled he trigger then and there and have been done with it.
But he didn't, not even when the target stood over him and looked down, before looking back over at Briggs.
"Did you really have to shoot him Briggs? We can use a younger man like him," CJ said, turning to his friend, hitman and body guard.
But this wasn't the Briggs he knew. This wasn't a Briggs that anyone knew.
This was a Briggs with a plan. A plan that didn't involve any survivors, or any mercy on anyone. These people after all, were the ones that killed Emily. The ones that took his wife from him.
So when he turned on CJ and pulled the trigger, causing the other man to drop dead right away, he didn't feel any guilt over it.
This was a positive good after all. Now with CJ out of the way. He was in charge of Sabre, a task he once would've been terrified of now consumed him.
It filled his mind, all he could think of was how much he could do now.
A wet cough drew the former doctors attention down to the former Green Beret, who was bleeding out on the concrete.
This one would live, Briggs could use him.
______________
Well this chapter was something. The story is finally moving again. For the record Sawyer is Briggs, and no he is not crazy. He's just confused.
I love y'all enough to stay up late after prom, wow. Anyways enjoy as always.
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Playing With Fire
Romance26 year-old surgeon Sawyer Briggs had it all. A dream job, lots of money and most importantly a beautiful wife and son. That is until his wife was killed in a robbery. After that his life went to hell. Sawyer built a wall around his heart, and it co...
