I’m in the woods waiting for T-Man to arrive at the place he thinks is a safe house. Strapped to my side is my Stroman miniature dirk that will take his life. It is only about three inches long, but the blade is sharp and effective when used in the right area.
I can’t let thoughts of Saylor take over right now, because she makes me weak. Instead, I let the lyrics to Metallica’s “Seek and Destroy” pound into my head. An hour later, I’m ready to kill. I have only one thought on my brain. Blood. Red blood that will seep out of T-Man, through the cheap particleboard of the trailer and onto the ground.
When I see him pulling in, I feel that familiar sense of power coursing through my veins. Tonight, I’m the reaper in black. I’m hell and I’m knocking on his front door. And he doesn’t even fucking know it. When he is inside and alone, I wait. I wait for him to get comfortable. I see him look out of the window a few times, but he gives up all too soon.
I crawl out of the darkness and under the trailer to the back room where I cut a hole in the floor last night. I remove the carpet and now I’m in his house. He is on the phone, so I wait for him to end the call. He is promising dinner to someone on the other line. He laughs. He is happy. He sounds fucking ecstatic, but it won’t last long. I know the conversation is winding down, so I advance. When he says good-bye, I’m standing behind him.
When your mind is made up to kill someone, never hesitate. Do your fucking job. But it needs to be painful. That was my order. I kneel behind him and slice his tibial tendon. When he falls to his knees, I wrap my arm around his throat and place my knife behind his ear. His screaming stops and his hands come to my arm. He is thrashing, breathing heavy. He is panicking, and I think of all the women who panicked after waking up bruised and battered and not knowing what happened.
He is telling me he has money. He will pay me. I don’t need his fucking money and because he insinuated that I do, I stab my knife into the cartilage of his shoulder. He screams louder. He should know why this is happening, but I want him to hear it from me.
“You fucked up. You drugged the wrong woman. You fucked with something that belongs to Sinner’s Creed, and now you will die at the hands of a brother.”
He is begging now, swearing that he doesn’t know what I am talking about. He just wants to live. He is sorry. I’ve heard it all. There is nothing he could say that would ever make me change my mind. But, before I kill him, I have to know.
“What religion are you?” I ask, and my question catches him off guard.
“I-I’m an atheist.” I knew it. And then, I cut his throat.
I hang around long enough for T-Man to choke to death on his own blood, then I leave the same way I came in. There will be no tracks, no fingerprints, and no evidence. A smooth kill, just how I like it.
—
I walk the mile to my bike with thoughts of Saylor praying in my head. I’m glad she and T-Man didn’t share the same god. I would never be able to process how that shit worked.
I’m ready to get back to Saylor. I’m so ready, I’m practically running. When I get there, I will want to sleep with her, but I can’t. We have to leave. We need to get as far away from here as possible. I’m sure the body won’t be found for a couple of days. No one knew about T-Man’s “safe house” but him. I plan to be long gone by then.
When I get to my bike, I remove my gloves and hoodie and stuff them in a plastic bag before putting them in my luggage. I grab a fresh shirt and my riding gloves and throw my helmet on. By my calculations, I should see Saylor in fourteen minutes.
It only takes me twelve, but there are people outside in the parking lot so I keep riding. I stop at a store down the street and fuel up. I go inside, get what I need, and park my bike behind the building. I walk back to the motel and wait for the men to go inside. I don’t want any witnesses. Even though no one saw my bike within a mile of T-Man’s house, I don’t want to take any chances.
An hour passes before they leave and I should already be a hundred miles from here. I decide to leave the bike, and Saylor and I will just walk back to it.
I find her in the room, sound asleep. I hate to wake her, but we have to leave. She is in the bed we slept in together and she is hugging a pillow. My pillow. Her face is buried in it. She missed me.
I find her stuff packed in her bag and sitting at the foot of the bed. Her clothes are laid out and she is wearing nothing but her shirt and panties. If she has to wear clothes, I like these best. I sit down beside her and gently shake her shoulder.
“Hey,” I say, barely above a whisper. I watch her eyes open and then close as she buries her face further in the pillow. It’s cute.
Cute.
I don’t like that word and I vow to never use it again.