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Jul. 18th, 2019 05:48 pmThere were jobs I didn't do. Jobs where I'd have to crash a car or jobs where I'd have to garrotte someone. I refused to work with anyone after Frank, so Joe gave those jobs to Bella or Miko. It wasn't personal and I still worked steady. I was still too fucked up about Frank and it kept me from descending fully into the old life I'd had although I was coming close and closer. It wasn't attraction. It was self-loathing. I was trying to hurt myself as Frank had called it the time I'd almost cheated on him after Chicago.
Bella didn't do physical jobs at all, and Miko never got ones that required any sort of open casket, just in case, although allegedly he'd gotten a lot better with a handler that wasn't trying to kill him. Joe was looking after him like he'd promised, the same as he looked after me. I talked to them sometimes, Bella more than Miko, but mostly I kept to myself. Joe would throw Serge and Michele the odd job Bella wouldn't do because I didn't want to go back to Paris.
I got the bulk of sniper jobs, and I was good at them. Being a good shot was why I was currently stretched out on the rooftop wearing a black hat over my hair and watching a high powered lawyer who had a few minutes left to live through the scope of my rifle.
Michael Hartson was the sort of guy who would have gladly gotten a blowjob before he kicked me out for having one of my nightmares the night before an early morning meeting. He was Successful, moderately handsome and rich. He was probably a sociopath and he'd pissed off someone willing to part with a hundred grand to make him go away. Joe was getting pretty good at finding these new clients and I was just waiting for the right time to squeeze the trigger.
A sniper job was never going to look like an accident and I had no hard instructions, so timing was less an issue than just waiting for a clear shot. I opted to wait for Hartson to finished a phone conversation he was having. Finally, he tossed his phone onto a chair, walking towards a liquor cabinet. The back of his head. I could see the spot on his head where his hair was starting to thin. I exhaled and squeezed the trigger. There was a moment, a heartbeat length of time and then the spray of blood and he fell into the cabinet face first. I always liked a headshot and I liked the idea that the exit wound of the bullet would have fucked up his moderately handsome face in the same way Joe would someday shoot me in the face. Joe had winced when I'd asked him. Once Frank was avenged, no one else would get to look at me and it would be quick. It was a matter of time until I found Grace. It just remained to be seen if I'd be sucking dick of anyone who would let me in filthy bathrooms or if I'd kill her thus giving Joe the go-ahead to end my misery.
I was up off the coat I'd put down on the roof, already taking apart the gun to stuff back into the backpack I carried it in, and out the door that had led to the roof and down to the street where my car waited.
Bella didn't do physical jobs at all, and Miko never got ones that required any sort of open casket, just in case, although allegedly he'd gotten a lot better with a handler that wasn't trying to kill him. Joe was looking after him like he'd promised, the same as he looked after me. I talked to them sometimes, Bella more than Miko, but mostly I kept to myself. Joe would throw Serge and Michele the odd job Bella wouldn't do because I didn't want to go back to Paris.
I got the bulk of sniper jobs, and I was good at them. Being a good shot was why I was currently stretched out on the rooftop wearing a black hat over my hair and watching a high powered lawyer who had a few minutes left to live through the scope of my rifle.
Michael Hartson was the sort of guy who would have gladly gotten a blowjob before he kicked me out for having one of my nightmares the night before an early morning meeting. He was Successful, moderately handsome and rich. He was probably a sociopath and he'd pissed off someone willing to part with a hundred grand to make him go away. Joe was getting pretty good at finding these new clients and I was just waiting for the right time to squeeze the trigger.
A sniper job was never going to look like an accident and I had no hard instructions, so timing was less an issue than just waiting for a clear shot. I opted to wait for Hartson to finished a phone conversation he was having. Finally, he tossed his phone onto a chair, walking towards a liquor cabinet. The back of his head. I could see the spot on his head where his hair was starting to thin. I exhaled and squeezed the trigger. There was a moment, a heartbeat length of time and then the spray of blood and he fell into the cabinet face first. I always liked a headshot and I liked the idea that the exit wound of the bullet would have fucked up his moderately handsome face in the same way Joe would someday shoot me in the face. Joe had winced when I'd asked him. Once Frank was avenged, no one else would get to look at me and it would be quick. It was a matter of time until I found Grace. It just remained to be seen if I'd be sucking dick of anyone who would let me in filthy bathrooms or if I'd kill her thus giving Joe the go-ahead to end my misery.
I was up off the coat I'd put down on the roof, already taking apart the gun to stuff back into the backpack I carried it in, and out the door that had led to the roof and down to the street where my car waited.
