Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Apart from being a piece-of-shit husband to one of America’s sweethearts, there’s nothing here to suggest this hit has come from anywhere else.
It takes a little time to look into his background and properties, trying to pinpoint exactly where he might be, when medical documentation is flagged, and I almost laugh. Preston Vaughn is currently in the hospital after suffering a heart attack in his office last night. In other words, his secretary put on too much of a show while sucking his dick, and the old ticker couldn’t handle the excitement.
This is going to be too easy.
After searching the hospital details, I grab my keys and get going.
I stop by my warehouse and grab everything I need for an easy hit, and before I know it, I’m pulling up in the hospital parking lot.
Keeping my head down to avoid any of the security cameras, I stop by the hospital gift shop and pick up a bunch of flowers before making my way to the nurses’ station. “Hi,” I say with a bubbly smile. “I’m here to visit my uncle, Preston Vaughn. He came in last night.”
“Of course, dear,” the older woman minding the desk says before pressing a few buttons on her computer. “Ahh, yes. Here he is. Room 610. Down the hall and to the left, and then just keep going. Almost all the way to the end.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
She gives me a sweet smile before getting straight back to work, and I get on my way, traipsing down the hallway, knowing this is about to be the easiest hundred grand I’ve ever made. Though ego aside, most of my money is easily made. Locating the target is the hardest part. The rest is as easy as letting a blade fly from my fingers.
Finding room 610, I slip in through the door before silently closing it behind me and pulling the syringe from my pocket. I step deeper into the dark room, finding Preston lying in the hospital bed, attached to all kinds of machines, unmoving.
Well, shit. He’s on life support. That’s a nice little surprise. I won’t even have to get my hands dirty. It’s almost comical that I’d only just accused Raiden of taking the easy way out, and here I am about to make the simplest kill of my career.
Stepping up beside the bed, my gaze sails over Preston, listening to the subtle beep of the heart rate monitor and wanting to get this over and done with as soon as humanly possible so I can get my hands on a proper job. I reach down and flick the switch, turning off the life support.
The beeping continues, and Preston’s eyes spring open, his brows furrow as he takes me in.
What the actual fuck is happening? Shouldn’t this motherfucker be dying?
Preston looks at me as though I just kicked his dog and reaches up, taking the mask off his face. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Uhhhh . . .” I go to reach for the syringe in my pocket, because clearly I’ve gotten my wires crossed somewhere, when a deep, rumbling laugh fills the room, and I whip around to see Raiden stepping out of the shadows.
Has he been here this whole time?
He steps up to the other side of Preston’s bed, his gaze raking over me, and more specifically the stupid shirt I should have ripped off me and burned along with a Raiden-shaped voodoo doll. “Hmm . . . interesting,” he says. “I’m gonna need that back.”
I scoff and refuse to meet his eye, crossing my arms over my chest. “You should have thought of that before putting it on me,” I sneer. “No take-backs.”
“Who . . . Who are you people?” Preston demands, clutching his chest as though just the mere sight of us makes him uneasy, but judging by the look in his eyes, he’s not sure why. On the outside, both Raiden and I look like everybody else. Normal, everyday clothes and faces, but he feels it. As he should.
Raiden offers Preston a comforting smile before gesturing toward me. “This is Kiara, the woman who just accepted the hit your ex-wife put out on you. Luckily for you, she’s not very good at her job since she just mistook your oxygen mask for you being on life support. Good news is, with the flick of a switch, you’ll be able to access the six channels the hospital offers on your overhead television.”
“What?” Preston starts to panic as my gaze shoots down to the outlet I’d just switched off, and I follow the power cord attached to it, only to find it attached to the other end of the hospital television.
Ahhh fuck.
“NURSE! NURSE!” Preston starts to call as Raiden steps closer.
“Hush now. No need for the dramatics,” Raiden says, already reaching for Preston’s IV line and lining up a syringe with the rubber port. “This’ll all be over in no time.”