AUGUST

Texas

“We’re sitting outside a convenience store, in the middle of the night, to grab KY-Jelly for …” Addy gives an infectious giggle, glancing out of the window of my Chevy Silverado. It’s the dark of night, but those old-school, big-bulb Christmas lights twinkle from the roof of the Lone Star Convenience Store before us.

“KY-Jelly for your parents,” she finishes with a chuckle. A red warmth creeps over her cheeks due to ‘sex’; sex and my crazy ass parents – or highly intelligent and sexually enlightened parents, if I must.

My father is a gynecologist and yet the only pussy he enjoys belongs to none other than the woman he has been married to for almost thirty years. My mother is a therapist, by way of centering and elevating a person's sexual appetite. And to round off the family tree, I’m a hitman for hire, while Addy is the sweetest thing I’ve ever known in a world full of corruption. She’s a kindergarten teacher at a swanky private school. We met while I was assigned to murder the father of one of her students—fucked up, I know—but it was the best thing to ever happen to me.

Addy’s porcelain skin is glowing from my proposal of marriage earlier this evening, and she can’t quite keep her gaze off the princess-cut diamond sitting high and mighty on her engagement finger.

Her brown eyes sparkle as she tugs her bottom lip through her teeth in embarrassment. “Are you gonna drop me off at home first? We should…”

“Addy, they’re aware we live together—but, if you insist.”

“Very southern gentlemanly of you,” she says, smile bright “While you drop them off, I’ll have your surprise waiting …”

Her voice is as light as a feather with anticipation. My good girl wants to be bad for me, but my train of thought is on my parents. I’m watching them, and I can’t tell where one of their limbs or where the other’s begins, and not because it’s midnight. An aura of laughter surrounds the tipsy pair as they walk down the aisles of the store in search of KY-Jelly.

The Middle Easterner who is manning the station looks like he could use a cold beer.

“Look at them, glued together like flies to a pig’s buttocks.” I shove a hand through my tuft of dark blond hair, though I’d rather pull the tie away from my Adam’s apple. Jeans and t-shirts suit me the best. It also feels weird when I’m not wearing my cowboy boots; I’ve taken many lives with my steel-toe bad boys. “Grammy didn’t have on her daggon glasses when she spiked that Eggnog tonight.”

“And you just did a good deed, offering to drive your parents’ home. You also have the cutest grandma ever, Auggie. Stop being so hard on everyone.”

I shake my head, wondering how I ended up with my eccentric parents. “Wait a minute, you talk structure in your classroom. Well, I command it in my life.”

“A routine for five and six-year old students is to raise their tiny hands when asking a question and not run down the hallway, so your analogy isn’t working for me, buddy. You just got engaged, try to smile.” Her tiny fingers weave through mine.

As she talks, I glance at my parents and a rush of adrenaline prickles in my veins. Eyes narrowed, I survey the various large windows, sweeping the entire scene in an instant. A kid with a baseball cap slung low and a hoodie is standing near the cash register and keeps shifting around. His back is toward me, and I can’t quite make out why he’s hesitant.

“Addy, when I get out of the car…” I say, and the hardness of my voice jars her shoulders and steals the sparkle from her gaze.

Now my glower alternates between the kid at the cash register and another teen, wearing the same high school hoodie, who just entered.. reach past her to the glove compartment and command, “Lock the door and—”

“What are you doing?” she squeaks out the words as my forearm grazes across her knee. I undo the latch of the glove compartment and pull out my .9-millimeter.

“Addy, listen to me. Lock the door and don’t open it!” This is the first time in our relationship that my voice has raised. Addy's light, airy laughter falls dead the instant I break it to her that I have transitioned from my position as bounty hunter to hitman. And after it sinks in, she cries some, too.

“Wha-what?”

Eyes enriched with sincerity, I hold her gaze and say, “I love you, Addy.” This instant declaration steals the fear and fretting, which is enough to gather her attention again.

I growl, “Now, do it!” and she jumps just about out of her seat. “Do it now Addy,” I order, getting out and slamming the door behind me in an instant.

I’m heading up the curb as the two hoodied teenagers one is hold up a gun to the cashier. High beams brighten behind me. Before I can turn around to see if it’s someone giving a warning to the patrons or to the robbers, the gun is now pointed to my dad. All the years of combat training flash before my eyes.

The fight has never hit home

Not until this very single moment

“Dad!” My voice pierces through the night. “Dad, look out!”

I burst through the glass door as a fragmented bullet blows a hole through the cashier. And then the second teenager, the one nearest my parents, aims for my father’s chest and pulls the trigger. Two slugs pierce through my father’s heart and another shot pierces my mother in the middle of her chest. Taking aim, I squeeze the trigger and a shot fires through the back of the gunman’s head.

A needle of pain plunges into my bicep, courtesy of the gunman near the cash register. The left arm of my suit jacket is instantly warmed with sticky, red blood and I turn, quickly. A bullet that was meant to take me out pummels through a litre of Coke. My shot slams right between the guy’s eyes. The pocket change he’d just grabbed from the cash register is clutched in his hands as he falls to his knees. Postmortem eyes on me as he slowly slumps to the floor.

I’d kill him again.

My world stops as I step toward my parents. Though I've seen the streets rain with blood, my eardrums almost burst as I head over to their lifeless bodies.

“August!”

Addy!

I stand. Addy’s no longer in the car. She’s standing outside of the truck, arms awkwardly tensed at her sides, fingers trimbling. There’s a figure behind her.

The man in a ski mask is about two inches taller than her; five seven, stocky built. He’s standing just behind her and to the side. There’s a spider tattoo on his neck, in blue ink. His arm is draped over her shoulder as if they're friends. The barrel of the Smith and Wesson in his hand taps, ever so softly, against Addy’s heart.

And then he takes the shot…

Thank you, I hope you enjoyed the preview. Now, I beg of you to review Killing Mary Jane on Amazon, Goodreads, tell a friend, tell two friends…