Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
I’ve done three jobs for Mr. Red – or, more accurately, for the people who hired him – and each time, I’ve been able to look myself in the mirror the next day when I remember their crimes.
The worst kind.
But now?
“How am I supposed to….” Kill them. “Do my work if I don’t even know who they are?”
“You have all the information you need,” Mr. Red says. “You were given that information previously as a courtesy. I was never required to give it to you. It wasn’t in the initial terms of the deal.”
“You take those initial terms seriously,” I say.
“I do,” Mr. Red states flatly.
“Then you should remember what we agreed would happen if I refused,” I go on. “If I tell you I won’t kill this person, whoever they are, what happens?”
He sighs, a rare show of concern. Mr. Red’s world is one of killers, thieves, and criminals of every kind, so of course, he rarely shows his mood, but I can hear it now. I can hear the tightness.
“You know what happens.”
“Your ability to act as an anonymous middleman depends on the sanctity of your terms,” I say, quoting his own words back at him. “Since we made the deal, I’ve looked into you, and it’s true. You never break the terms of a deal.”
“I can’t,” Mr. Red snaps. “It’s as you say. My position is a precarious one.”
“So tell me what happens,” I growl.
“If you refuse to do your work, we’ll hire somebody else to deal with the target. You will also be killed.”
“But Yasmin,” I say. “And Felicia…”
“They will not be harmed,” Mr. Red says. “But didn’t you hear me? You’ll be killed. The target will be whether you do it or not. Do you really want to risk it all on your last job?”
I laugh darkly. “Well, that depends. Who’s the target?”
“I’m not authorized to tell you anything except that they have a….”
“What if there’s more than one person with a blue butterfly on their wrist?”
He pauses, probably thinking about how much easier our normal system is.
He gives me the name, I do my research, and then I take the monster out. The types of men I kill have done the evilest things to women, children, and innocents. Unimaginable horrors, at least for most regular people.
“In that case, call me,” he says. “And we’ll figure it out.”
“What if I don’t see them both?” I go on. “I walk in there, see one person with a butterfly on their wrist…and then do my work. Then later I find out it was the wrong person. Use your head. None of this works.”
“It’s a blue butterfly, wings spread, shaded around the edges as though the sun is shining from behind. I find it difficult to believe there will be two identical tattoos.”
“Okay then,” I laugh gruffly. “Let’s take somebody’s life based on your hunch. I’ll go in there and take a look around. I’ll find this person. But I don’t promise anything.”
“If you haven’t handled this by the end of the night, I have to cancel our deal. You’ll be hunted, and so will the target.”
But not my sister. Not my niece, little Felicia, who was named as an homage to me.
“I’ve done a lot in my forty years, Red,” I tell him. “But killing an innocent is a line I won’t cross.”
I hang up and climb from the car, walking across the street.
Running a hand through my hair, I prepare myself to make an effort. I’m not the most naturally social person, but I need to be for this part of the job.
The ingratiating, getting people to trust me before I…do the right thing.
But that’s just it. There is no right thing if the target is innocent.
My contact at the party is a woman called Lexi. Mr. Red arranged for me to appear as the owner of a tattoo studio, not an artist or a tattooist, but a business owner. It means I can lean on that angle if anybody asks me anything related to the industry.
The bar is loud, but not as loud as the dance floor at the end, pumping its music toward me. My head pulses as I quickly scan the room over the mirror behind the bar and the low ceiling.
It’s not massively busy, perhaps seventy-five people in total, with probably around twenty-five on the dance floor.
I spot Lexi at the corner of the room, matching her description with the one Mr. Red gave me.
The room isn’t bright by any means, but it’s not dark either. Not as dark as the dance floor looks from here. The open doors give me an idea of the room’s proportion and the number of occupants but nothing concrete.
If the tattoo owner is in there, they’ll be difficult to find.
Lexi smiles as I approach, smoothing a hand through her hair. I wonder if that’s a sign of attraction, but I don’t honestly care, beyond the fact it may make my work more difficult if she feels that way.