Fourteen hours was a long drive to make, especially if you made it in one shot and didn’t do more than stop for gas and to piss. He hadn’t bothered to sleep either before he got on the road. He ate fast food and paid for everything in cash, leaving no paper trail. It had been a part of the brief training that involved disappearing and leaving nothing but a body.

Making a job of killing people would surely affect his view of the world, or it should. He should be jaded and angry, suffering from the ghosts of the people he killed. But he felt nothing, which worried him to some degree. If he felt no remorse, how did that separate him from any other bloodthirsty killer? Was it because he was getting paid? That he was government contracted?

Was he bloodthirsty? Did he enjoy dealing out death?

He didn’t think so. He didn’t look forward to the next mark that took up his inbox. It wasn’t the next chance to put a bullet in someone or glide his knife through their throat. He didn’t look for inventive new ways to kill people. He made sure to make it quick and as painless as he possibly could. There was no need to make them suffer.

There was something sacred about taking the life of another person, and he didn’t really want to lord over them like some sort of death god. A quiet Grim Reaper that swept in to take a life was something he preferred. It held a nice image for him.

He made quite the small fortune living this life. His bank account attested to that every time he gave it a look. If he quit today, he had enough to buy a decent sized plot of land, find a girl, and start a family without the need to work another day. It would all be easily taken care of. There would be no struggle, no wonder of how to put food on the table.

Find a girl? Start a family? Were these serious thoughts he was having? Could he love someone? If he felt nothing after ending another person’s life, would he be capable of something as simple as love? If a woman knew the amount of blood that was on his hands, could she even fathom loving him?

He didn’t know, but this was one thing the road was good for. Deep thoughts. He rubbed a hand over the scruff that had grown on his face as he considered his line of thought. The thoughts sobered him and twisted up his gut. He reflected on the girl he had left back in the motel, the prostitute.

He spent his free time with women he paid to get him off. How was he supposed to relate to a woman? Would he garner a worthwhile woman? How would he even know how to love her and get her to love him?

He wasn’t a bad looking guy, or so he’d been told. He kept the close-cut hair that was forced upon him at boot camp, but he occasionally sported the beginnings of a beard when the idea of shaving was just something he didn’t want to do. Beards were in now, right? Honestly, he didn’t know.

He hadn’t tried to pick up a woman that he didn’t have to pay for since high school. It was just easier to look for women on street corners. He looked in the rearview mirror. His eyes were a vivid blue that was something chicks were into, or at least the girls he saw commented on them.

Considering his demons, considering what he was, he was surprised at the brightness that looked back at him. Should he be attractive? It didn’t seem right.

It was then that he realized what he wanted. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but he wanted someone. Someone to love and someone who loved him. The idea of having a home and someone to come home to was something that hit him like a brick. It hit almost hard enough that he swerved on the empty road.

Wasn’t that the American dream? A house and a wife with two-point-five kids? Was this why he had no problem doing what he did? Why he didn’t feel anything? Why he was empty? Because he really didn’t have anything? Why hadn’t he considered it before? He hadn’t considered any of that until just now, driving in the predawn hours, going to end the life of some unsuspecting woman.

“This will be the last one,” he said to himself. “It’s time that I stop getting my hands dirty and start working on what I want.” He would just have to let Austin know. Surely, a man who sat in an office and dealt out death safely behind his desk would understand. Austin could have a wife and a family, for all he knew.

He could have a life. Scott didn’t feel like he had one. But he would stop the lifestyle of getting by, pretending to live, and start work on what he wanted, what he deserved to have too.

When he started rolling into Denver, he had the misfortune of hitting five o’clock traffic. The interstate became clogged and his patience for the stop and go traffic was starting to wear on him. He was tired. He would have to get a motel room while he was here because he would definitely need to break for sleep.

With the thought of a bed in mind, he pulled off at the nearest exit, which happened to be downtown. After driving around aimlessly, he stopped at a chain motel. Though he preferred the non-chain variety, he wasn’t going to be picky. He got a room with little fuss, paying in cash. The idea of sleep had him lingering in his rented room for longer than necessary. He thought about showering, about falling onto that bed and getting much-needed sleep.

He had shit to do. He could sleep afterward. The more he loitered here, the longer it would take. First, he needed a lead. He needed to find a trail.

Seeing a bar across the street gave him an idea. He started on foot, going to each bar with his description, looking for some sort of lead. It was just past six when he wandered into a bar that was more than a mile from the motel he was staying at when he picked up the lead he had been looking for.

“Jovy?” a little redheaded waitress eyed him curiously. “That sounds like her. She’s usually in here on Fridays for the bar crawl. We don’t really get a crowd until about ten. She’ll probably be in then.” Curiosity turned to suspicion, though he had already gotten what he was looking for. She was a little late to be protective. “Why you looking for her?”

He found a probable lie, since the mark was female. “I was in here last week and I saw her.” He looked down, playing at being bashful. “We had a couple of dances and I didn’t get her number at the time. I was hoping I’d get lucky tonight.”

The waitress seemed to buy it, though it didn’t stop her from checking him out. “Well. Hopefully, you’ll see her later.”

He nodded and left the bar. There were only a few people there, and the only one who would recognize him was the waitress. She didn’t get his name, and his reasoning for looking for the woman was vague enough. He wouldn’t worry about it. He decided to scope out a perch, somewhere close to the bar, so he wouldn’t have to get close to the mark and he could just pick her off. An office building with a For Rent sign in a window caught his eye. It looked like the perfect nest.

He found his way back to the pick-up truck that brought him to Denver and took his time setting up, getting his rifle set up and gathering snacks for the wait. He had time to kill getting ready for his target.

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