HiT 149: Anna Brookes First Chapter Read online

  “15. There are no names exchanged here. Just information.” I’m cold and emotionless, mask firmly in place. I put my Glocks down on the sofa on either side of my body. I look back at guard one who is eyeing me with hate. “To answer your question, I am that good. You’ll never disrespect me again, because you won’t live if you attempt it.” I turn to my potential new employer. “Let’s get to business.” Essentially I’m ending any and all superfluous conversation that might come from either of them.

  “Two million dollars. One million’s in this account and one million when the target’s been eliminated.” He takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and leans in to give it to me. Usually, two million is my standard fee, but now I’m pissed off. They call for a meeting and then try to disrespect me. My fee’s just now gone up.

  “No, two million’s only my fee when I’m not pissed off. When no one has tried to humiliate me. Your men insulted me and that’s not acceptable. My fee’s been increased to three million. Two million now, and one million when I finish…and you’re lucky that I’ve only increased it by a small amount.” My mask’s firmly in place and I don’t even blink when I give Employer my new number.

  Employer turns to his guard, shakes his head and pulls his phone out. He does what he needs to do on his phone and looks up at me. I know I’ve probably just signed guard one’s death warrant. He’s not worth keeping around after what just transpired. Employer opens his mouth and starts to say something but stops himself. He squints his eyes at me like he’s thinking something but doesn’t know how to say it. Maybe he’s scared I’ll put a bullet in his head. I would if he said the wrong thing. He opens his mouth and clears his throat. “I think I could use you on my staff,” he curls his lips as he says that.

  I’m considering what to say to him. He needs to know that in this building, on this day, at this very moment, he’s not in control. I am, and I don’t care who he is or what he’s done. I’m fully in control. “If the next words that leave your mouth are not either ‘I accept your offer’ or ‘I decline your offer’ then if I were you, I’d be saying nothing at all.” Essentially I’ve just told him where he can shove his fucking job.

  Employer again twists his mouth and narrows his eyes. He’s scared shitless of me. He knows that no matter who’s here with him, it’s not going to stop me from killing him if I want to. So he does the only thing he can.

  “Two million’s been transferred to this account, one million will be in there once the confirmation has been received that the problem has been exterminated.” He stands and gives me the paper with the bank details. I call Agent through my Bluetooth. I rattle off the numbers that have been given to me. My eyes are still staring at Employer and his guard. I wait for the okay from Agent, confirmation that the money has now been moved into accounts that no one will ever be able to find. I light the piece of paper on fire and it’s so small it disintegrates almost immediately.

  “Target.” I put my hand out waiting for the envelope with all the information and a visual on my next hit. The manila 8”x 11” envelope is placed in my hand. And with that I stand and leave.

  As I’m walking out of the room Employer calls out to me, “When will this problem be settled?”

  “When I’m done, you’ll know.” And I continue walking away.

  I get to the apartment garage and stop the car before I pull the information out of the envelope. The first thing I pull out is the photo, but I’ve pulled the packet out backward, facing away from me. I turn it around and…shit!

  Fuck!

  Fuck!

  Fuck.

  Chapter 8

  This can’t be right. I’m staring at a picture of Ben Pearson. This cannot be right. This CAN NOT be right. What the fuck! I can’t look at this in the garage so I put it away and quickly go up to the apartment. I immediately take the photo and information out of the envelope and my eyes glaze over it. Yep, it’s Ben Pearson. My Ben Pearson from last night. The information confirms it.

  Name: Benjamin Adrian Pearson

  Occupation: Police Chief, St. Cloud, Minnesota Police Department

  DOB: 6/6/80

  Address: 2022 Lionsgate Road – St. Cloud, Minnesota

  What the fuck! Lionsgate Road?? That was where Henry and I lived. That was the same street our home was on. I don’t remember a 2022 though. We had lot numbers when Dad and I lived there. Have they been converted into street numbers? What the fuck’s happening here? I drop the paper and it floats to the floor. I back away from offensive information and find the cold wall on my back as I slide down to the floor. I bring my knees up and my head falls against my hands resting on my knees.

  I can’t stop thinking about this. What’s happening? How is this happening? Ben Pearson’s my next target. Can I do it? Is it possible for me to do this?

  I find myself literally shaking, my stomach’s knotting and I think I’m going to throw up. I jump up and run to the bathroom in time to lose the contents of my stomach into the toilet. My heart’s pounding but this time it’s not from excitement.

  I’m feeling one thing.

  Fear.

  Not for me but for Ben.

  What am I going to do? If I don’t take him out, I will become the target and someone else will be hired to come and take him out. What do I do?

  I’ve been sitting on the bathroom floor trying to decide what to do. I’m not sure how much of the day I’ve spent there. For me, time stopped the moment I saw his picture. Slowly my heartbeat returns to normal. I think I know what I need to do. First thing is to get back to St. Cloud and see if this 2022 Lionsgate Road where Ben lives is where I think it is. This hit’s going to be a little more difficult than any I’ve ever done before. Not difficult in a way that prevents me from getting to him, because let’s face it, I can get to anyone, and have gotten to anyone. But difficult in a way that once my finger is on that trigger, it’ll be a shot I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to take. I’ve never had an issue with any target in my thirteen years, even Lukas. But Hit 149, A.K.A. Benjamin Adrian Pearson, will be my most difficult. I’m just not sure I’ll be able to force myself to take that fatal shot.

  I lift myself from the bathroom floor and I head into the bedroom. It’s noon now and I know where my travels will take me. Minnesota, more specifically, St. Cloud. Even more specifically, home. I get my suitcase out and start packing the few things I need to take with me. My mind’s still racing about this hit. I’ll stay at the cabin in the woods just outside of St. Cloud I bought a few years back. I’ve never actually stayed there before, but I thought it would come in handy if I had to lay low for any period of time. It’s not fitted out like any of my other properties.

  The only thing I’ve done to it is to build that safe room – the steel box. Just like all my others, but it doesn’t house the aresenal that the others have, yet. The trip from Salt Lake City to Minnesota takes sixteen hours with no traffic. I won’t fly because I need to bring my babies with me. So I’ll stock my car with artillery and leave. This time I think I’ll take the BMW. There’s enough room in the BMW to house everything I need. I’ll have to stop half-way there and sleep for the night. But I’ll need to find a hotel that has secure parking. I’m not leaving any of the sniper rifles, Glocks, or Colts in the BMW out in the open for anyone to get to.

  I need them for work so they come with me. My other apartments all have steel boxes, safe rooms housing weapons and ammunition so I don’t need to lug my babies around. The only ones I keep always on or near me at all times are my beautiful Glocks. I’ve had these two custom made. They have a shiny, smooth gold body and a pink mother of pearl grip. They sit in my hand perfectly and they look awesome. Because they were made to order for me, they also cost me a lot of money. More than I ordinarily would spend. But I don’t care. I’m a Glock girl. A Glock was my first gun and they are what I want. They have never misfired or jammed, and have never caused me a problem.

  I’ve been driving for a while and I’m just inside of the South Dakota b
order. I’m tired, so I’ll be stopping soon. And all I have done during the drive is think about this whole fucked-up situation. There are road signs to Minnesota and I keep thinking that if I just take a different exit I’ll be able to spare Ben Pearson’s life.

  But what I also logically know is that if I do turn off, if I do take a detour, Ben Pearson’s dead anyway. Someone else will come for him. If he’s going to die, he’ll die by my hand. I won’t let someone else kill him. I won’t let someone make him suffer. I’ll do it and I’ll make it as quick as possible. I won’t have him in pain. I won’t let his family suffer. I’ll make it look like an accident, but he’ll die fast.

  Before I even realize, I’m approaching a place called Wolf Creek. I need to find a bed soon because my head’s reeling. Wolf Creek. Wasn’t there an Australian movie some years back about a crazy-ass dude that goes on a killing spree in the outback? Sounds like the right place for me to find a pillow for my head tonight.

  Wolf Creek doesn’t look like it belongs in that movie at all. I drive down the main street and it appears bustling and prosperous. I don’t see a hotel that has any sort of garage where I could leave the BMW, though. I pull over and look up local hotels on my GPS and find that there’s an Embassy Suites chain hotel two streets over. I drive there and find it’s exactly what I need. I gain access to the garage by saying, “I’ll be a guest at the hotel tonight.” And make my way to reception. It’s eight in the evening and even though it’s not late I’ve been driving straight through for the last seven hours. I rub my hand over my eyes to relieve some pressure from behind them.

  “Good evening, Madam, welcome to the Embassy Suites. Do you have a reservation?” says the young woman behind the counter. She looks to be in her mid-twenties. Hair perfectly done and her nails neatly manicured. She subtly eyes me up and down. Oh my goodness, love, I’m not here to steal your boyfriend away. I just need a bed, I think to myself.

  “No reservation. Do you have any suites available?” My mask has slipped on. My cold demeanor is back.

  Reception girl taps away on her computer and looks up at me through her eye lashes. Even though she’s been sizing me up, she must be under the impression that I’m unable to afford a room here. People keep making assumptions about me and that’s fine, because they’re always wrong. “Yes, Ma’am, however we only have the Presidential Suite or we have the Jackson Room. The Jackson Room is comfortable with a queen bed, and a kitchenette but no balcony.” She stops there and doesn’t go on to tell me anything about the Presidential Suite.

  I huff at her and shake my head, rolling my eyes and give her a look of ‘are you fucking kidding me’. She really doesn’t know a thing about me. Good in one way, but come on little girl, you don’t treat people like that. With my shoulders back I look her straight in the eye. I pull out one of my credit cards, made out to an alias, and put it on the counter. “Presidential Suite, please.”

  “Madam, the Presidential Suite is two thousand a night,” she says, haughty and trying to shock me.

  I’ve had it with this bitch. Behind me two business men have made their way over and are now standing and waiting to speak with her for whatever reason. She must think she’s going to score with one of them, or maybe she’s just trying to impress them. Either way she’s just about to be ripped a new one.

  I sneak a look at the men over my shoulder, and they’re half-smirking while looking appreciatively at my butt. It may seem a girl like me in her jeans, hoody and Vans obviously doesn’t belong in a place like this. This is where my coldest, rudest personality comes out and I become 15, but without resorting to my Glocks, or any other violence. I’m not going to kill someone over something like this. She’s not a threat to me, just a stupid girl trying to impress two male jackasses.

  “I’d like to speak to the owner of this establishment to see about negotiating a purchase price for this hotel and have you tossed out on your ass. You assume you know me, little girl, but this is what I know about you…” I take a controlled breath and continue.

  “You live at home with Mommy and Daddy. You can’t afford a car to drive here, so you take public transport. You’re doing everything in your power to find yourself a rich man to take care of you. How do I know these things about you? Easy. I keep my mouth shut and my eyes open.

  “If you did the same thing you’d see that the men you are so desperately trying to attract will use you for only one reason. They’re here for a business meeting and have left their wives at home. How do I know? Wedding rings in their pocket, faint line on their ring finger. They aren’t interested in you for anything other than a quick fuck and dump. Now, give me the damn room and watch how you speak to me. You know nothing about people. Do I make myself clear or do we need to call your boss?”

  Reception girl’s face reddens and drops. She swallows an audible gulp. Her eyes fill with tears as her bottom lip starts to quiver, and her hands tremble fiercely. She’s all but slumped over her keyboard. She’s certainly embarrassed by what I’ve said and is regretting her rude and condescending behavior toward me.

  “No, Ma’am. Calling my boss is not necessary. I apologize for offending you. The Presidential Suite it is.” She takes a deep breath and pulls herself together. At no time does she make eye contact with me. She takes my credit card off the counter, looks at it and swipes it. I’ll give credit where credit’s due, she seems to have regained her composure…for now. She’ll probably crack and cry once she takes care of me and the two businessmen behind me. “Thank you, Miss Smith. The Presidential Suite’s on the fourth floor. There are two rooms and yours is on the left.” She hands me the key but still doesn’t meet my eyes.

  I decide to throw her a bone, “You’re much too smart to be nothing more than someone’s slut for the night.” I say no more as I pick up my bag and turn to head in the direction of the elevators, but not before I give the two men a look that warns them to keep their dicks in their pants.

  The elevator ride is quick as I ascend to the fourth floor and turn left to find the door to the Presidential Suite. It’s nice; it’s large; it has everything I need. Realistically, I could have taken the Jackson room because all I want is to have a shower and put my head on the pillow. But I wasn’t going to stand there and be judged by anyone other than my maker.

  I drag myself to the shower and let the hot water beat down on my body. I use the bottles of shampoo and body wash provided by the hotel to get clean. This shower is sensational, and the hot water is never-ending. I sit on the bench and let every thought tormenting me wash. I turn my brain off and let the water pound against my body. I roll my neck from side to side with my eyes closed. I roll my shoulders back and forth slowly, just letting the pressure and the heat take my tension away. For at least the next twenty minutes, I let it evaporate all my concerns.

  I know tomorrow will be a start of another day of looking for a way out of this dilemma. But for now, I let all my stress go.

  I get out of the shower and look over the room service menu. I’m so hungry. I’ve eaten light snacks throughout the day and am ready for something more substantial. I order a porterhouse steak, well done. All these people who eat meat bloody, yuck! That’s not for me. Blood in meat I’m eating…ugh, no thank you. I don’t like my meat mooing when I cut into it. That’s funny. I can stand to shoot virtually anyone and watch their head explode with bits of brain flying in every direction, but I’m not keen on blood in my meat.

  While I wait for room service, I get a bottle of water out of the room’s mini-bar fridge. I turn on the TV and look for something light and entertaining. There’s nothing like that on, so I switch over to the news. It’s always good to keep up with what’s happening in the world, because I never know who my next target will be.

  As I’m watching the news, a story comes on about a shipment of cocaine that’s been intercepted in St. Cloud by the local Police Chief and his staff. Just then Ben Pearson appears on TV, giving a statement. I turn the TV up and stand right in front of it because
this to me is very interesting.

  Ben says, “Approximately two hours ago, the St. Cloud police department intercepted a truck that was suspected of carrying illegal firearms. Upon inspection, we discovered that the truck actually contained a large amount of cocaine. The street value of these drugs is in the vicinity of five million dollars. The St. Cloud PD has been working closely with other law enforcement agencies and even though we were expecting a shipment of guns, we’re happy to have prevented such a large quantity of drugs from hitting our streets. Thank you very much for your time.” Ben’s interview stops there.

  Ben Pearson is still beautiful. Even on TV he’s gorgeous, just delicious. He must’ve returned to St. Cloud soon after I left him. But he had asked me to dinner. Maybe his vacation was cut short and he was called back because of the raid on that truck.

  The one thing I know for sure is that now, Ben Pearson has become a target for more than just the man who’s hired me to kill him.

  Just then there’s a knock on the door and I hear, “Room service.” I can never be too careful. One of my Glocks is in the waistband at the back of my jeans and I open the door, standing to the side, cautious as usual. The young boy brings in my meal and places it on the table. He’s fine, no threat. I pull out five dollars and tip him. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he says. His eyes are on the floor and he scoots out of the door at record speed. Maybe reception chick told him about me; maybe that’s just the way he is.

  Once I finish my dinner, I brush my teeth and head to bed. It’s still early, only nine, but I’m very tired. Actually, I’m exhausted and I still need to make it to St. Cloud tomorrow. I lay my head on the pillow and I’m consumed by one thought. One person’s face fills every part of my mind.