Chapter 8
Texas
The oversized oaf was getting too close. I could see his shadow as he moved outside the house I was hiding in through the holes in the drywall that went straight through to the shell of the house. The walls were littered with them. A nice draft flowed through the building.
I wasn’t even allowed a place with complete walls. The summer heat was more bearable here than in Texas, but the drives were long.
Maine really was a beautiful place. If I didn’t have to take another life, I would have been to the beach looking out over the dark ocean. It was so different from the clear water I was used to.
He was getting close to the building, and I was holding my breath, fighting the need for air. He stopped right in front of the hole I was peeking through.
My back was pressed against the wall in one of the more solid spots. Unless he bent over and looked at me, he wouldn’t know I was here. I watched as his dark hair reflected the light from the sun.
His phone was ringing, and I took that moment to take a deep breath.
“Da?” he says in his native Russian language when he answers the phone.
There was a slight pause.
“I’m coming,” He replies.
I wanted to know what the other person was saying.
“Nyet” The oaf replies.
He was silent a moment.
“She is still elusive. Are you sure you need me?” he asks.
“Da.” he says quietly.
The silence told me he ended the call. I was about to have enough freedom to go on the hunt again. I just needed to kill my target, and then I could run.
They wouldn’t know for at least a week, giving me a decent head start. Reaching into my pocket, my fingers clenched around the pathetic sum of money.
I had maybe two hundred and fifty, which was enough for gas on my way back. I would need to steal to survive as work would be difficult when you can’t stay in one place. I would also need to leave my car behind.
The idea of walking away on foot was both freeing and terrifying. I wouldn’t get too far, but the trees would give me cover staying away from the roads, which would keep me invisible.
I needed to make a stop at the store to collect a few supplies. Water would be one of them. Lighters, a sleeping bag, jerky and other dried foods.
Packing light would make it easier to travel long distances. I knew from staying in this barely-there shelter that the nights got cold.
My pack was pressed against my foot. I had a few changes of clothes in there. Dress clothes to fit in and work clothes to hide the blood.
I needed a classy yet practical dress since I was going back to the bar again. It seemed to be a place he liked to frequent. Pulling my black tank top over my head, I removed my skinny black jeans and reached for the only dress that fit the bill.
It was the same dress I wore the other night. The night I met the first man to make me feel. My heart raced as my palms started to sweat. He did this to me and I hated him and loved him for it. As crazy as it was, I could see myself falling for him.
That is, if I was normal and free and if my life wasn’t death and destruction. He needed more than I could offer as I was a shell of a person. I was so hollow, I was sure that I echoed if tapped just right.
Slipping my black leather heels on, I sighed. Leather was easier to get the blood out of than any other kind of material.
I used to lay on the roof of our house in Texas picturing my life when I was free. I would tell myself that the stars would be brighter. I would also have many different kinds of shoes, and more than just black clothing. Sure, I had a few items that weren’t black so, I didn’t stand out.
But I wanted more than what I had. I wanted a future. I wanted what all the other girls that I went to school with had. A husband and kids.
College wasn’t on my bucket list. I couldn’t see myself behind a desk like a lawyer or a dentist. There were times I thought about being a nurse, but the blood that already coated my hands was too much.
Maybe I would stay home and show my kids all the love and affection I never had. They would always know how important they were.
I remembered picking a name for my future son. Michael Xavier. It wasn’t until recently when I read what kind of monster Michael was, that I realized I could never name my son that.
Reaching for my knife, I strapped it to my thigh. I wanted more than just this though. Grabbing my .380 semi-automatic, I strapped it to my other thigh.
It was nice and compact so only I would know it was there. My dress was slightly loose on the sides and perfect for covering any little bulge it may make.
Grabbing the small mirror, I quickly applied light gold eyeshadow, black eyeliner, black mascara, and a touch of clear glossy lip gloss.
No need for cover up since I liked my complexion just the way it is. Slipping the cash into my bra, I walked out of the only sanctuary I had in this state.
Soon I wouldn’t even have this. The car was right there, but I wasn’t taking it. The idea was for him to want to take me away with him.
For him to want to make me the victim. Sighing, I started the long thirty-minute walk to the bar. The road was clear, and the air was filled with the scent of pine.
It reminded me of Christmas, something I never had. Some of my targets had a real Christmas tree, and it was beautiful, a freeing sent would tint the air.
It was hot, but with the cool breeze caressing my skin made it bearable. The road was deserted and dark the street lights dim and by the time I reached the rustic looking bar with wood silvery siding I was ready for a stiff drink.
I just needed one to wash away the sorrow of another life that would be dimming by my hands. The metal door creaked a little as I pulled it open. The smell of alcohol and too much cologne slapped my senses.
Honestly, why would you need that much on you? Looking around subtlety, I made my way to the bar. The same bartender from the other night was here, and my cheeks pinkened.
He knew. It was written all over his face what I had done. That I let him use me like a toy built for his pleasure. A man who made people run bent me over this very counter and fucked me senseless.
I would say made love, but it was by no means gentle or sweet. My target was sitting at the bar watching me with calculating eyes.
I fought the need to shiver in disgust as he checked me out like he was trying to see through the clothes that I wore. His greasy dark graying hair and dull green eyes. Eyes that looked at me Hungry with desire. The way he licked his lips had bile rising.
I hated every degrading moment of what I was about to do. I almost preferred sinking my blade into my own flesh, a more welcoming outcome compared to what I needed to do.
“Come here, sexy,” he said huskily
Did that line really work? I giggled like a schoolgirl, something I perfected over the years. The bartender was looking at me, his blond hair shifted slightly into his brown eyes as they looked at me curiously. I could see the gears turning.
I didn’t act like this the other night. Shit, he was going to fuck this up. Turning my head, I give him a wink, making sure it was very suggestive.
Just like that, all thought left his tiny brain and went south of the equator.