2. Blackheart

2

Blackheart

I pocket my revolver after firing it three times and wipe my bloody hands on my faded denim shirt.

Only one more to go.

Fridays are usually reserved for working on my ranch, but I picked up two jobs last minute because the money was good and I love to kill. Being a part-time hitman wasn’t what I planned to do when I grew up, but this path found me, and I headed down it with my head held high. Killing people fits in seamlessly with my lifestyle. I don’t have neighbors, so no one sees me bringing people back to my house to torture or loading my truck with guns. And while business is good, it could be better, and my side gig helps me keep the lights on. There’s not a single thing I’d change.

Now to get rid of the body.

I don’t know why I was paid to kill this old bastard, but I don’t care. I don’t ask. Knowing why my clients want someone killed isn’t a part of my job. It’s not what I get paid for. I’m not a fucking therapist.

But killing my victims by the requester’s due date is not up for negotiation, and for some reason, someone wanted this poor grandpa dead before eight a.m. on a Friday morning.

Like me, this guy lives in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know if he has family. That’s not a concern of mine. All I know is that I have one more person to kill before the weekend’s up, and I want to get a head start, so I don’t have time to give this guy a special burial.

Leaning down, I tuck my hands under his shoulders, dragging his limp, large body behind his house. I can just leave him here for the buzzards and get on with my day.

After leaving him out back, I run in his house for a moment to clean my hands. I just got my truck detailed, and there’s no way I’m getting blood all over it. I take a look at myself in his bathroom mirror at my worn face. I’m thirty-eight, but right now I look forty-five. My dark brown hair that sticks out the sides of my hat could use a trim just like my overgrown beard. Noting both things as tasks I can take care of later, I leave the lived-in home and head out to my rusty blue Chevrolet.

I have a list of clients I typically work with, but every now and then, I get a new one .

My newest client is a man named Mason Barnes. I don’t know much about him, but I’ve heard his name whispered here and there before. Apparently he’s someone you want to keep on your good side. Actually, he’s someone you probably want to stay away from.

But he’s loaded and lives on a big ranch in Jackson. And he’s hired me to kill his daughter.

Mason called me around seven a.m. saying that his daughter had run off from some shed in the woods, and that he estimated she’d been gone for about two hours. He gave me the coordinates to the shed, and I’m headed out that way now. If she’s been running for two hours, she can’t have gotten too far. And although Mason is out of town and can’t look for her himself, I’m significantly closer and can locate her in no time.

After driving down the highway for twenty minutes, I turn off to a back road that should put me close to my victim. I don’t know anything about her other than her physical description and her name. I asked for a photo of her, but Mason declined, saying that if I’m as good as I claim to be, I can find her based on his description alone. There aren’t many women that look like her around here, so I’m confident that the one I find will be the correct one to kill.

Fifty thousand dollars. That’s how much I’m going to get when I kill Montana Elizabeth Barnes. Five-foot-four, one hundred and sixty pounds, with brown skin, hazel eyes, and long, wavy brown hair. I can’t wait to find her and put her in the ground.

My average profit is around seven thousand per person. Fifty grand is unheard of for me. That money is life changing. That’s enough money for me to get the fuck out of here and leave everything behind. I can have a fresh start by morning. And after the life I’ve lived, a fresh start sounds nice.

I get to a point where I can’t take my truck any further. Getting out, I grab my phone and shotgun, and I close my door stealthily while I walk into the brush. The only other thing Mr. Barnes mentioned is that his daughter would be in search of food and water, and that she’s probably headed to the nearest town.

The nearest town is an hour and a half away by car, so she’s going to be searching for food and water in these woods.

I still, trying to listen out for an animal or the sound of water. If I can find water, I can find the girl. As long as she hasn’t gotten herself killed before I get to her .

And I need to kill her. Mr. Barnes made it very clear that if I don’t kill his daughter, I won’t see my money. And no one gets in the way of my money.

I walk steadily and stealthily deeper into the trees with my gun in hand ready to shoot. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a moose, and I hear water in the distance.

The moose looks up at me, and I don’t know what, but something about me pisses him off because he starts to charge straight at me.

I point my weapon at the animal and fire into him three times as he collapses with the third shot.

Shit. If Montana’s near, I’ve surely just scared her off. I head toward the sound of the water quickly, hoping I haven’t missed my chance. Even if she did run off, I’m not leaving here until I find her. Then when I find her, I’ll kill her and deliver her lifeless body to her father per his request.

I almost slip in the slick mud when I increase my speed. It must’ve rained out here yesterday as parts of this place look like a swamp.

Sweat drips down my back from the warm temperature outside and my adrenaline, and my damp hair starts to stick to my neck.

I take a turn around a group of trees, and that’s when I see her .

Wide hazel eyes stare back at me filled with fear. The water covers her waist-down, but I can still get an idea of her body size.

She doesn’t look one-sixty. Maybe one-forty. She’s not rail-thin, but she looks hungry. Like she hasn’t eaten in a few days.

Her hair isn’t long like her father described, but it’s her. She probably cut it before she planned this shitty escape. It clings to her neck and shoulders, and despite it being soaked, it’s still thick and wavy. Her shoulders shake, probably from the chill of the water and my steady gaze. Her body’s covered in scrapes and bruises, and she has a nasty gash on her head.

“Montana?” I call out her name despite knowing who she is, feeling better with verbal confirmation.

She licks her mauve, wet lips and frowns. “Who wants to know?”

Yeah—this woman is my target. I take a quick glance around, looking for her clothes. I’d rather not bring her to her father nude, but the woman is naked.

Very naked.

Her large, round breasts stand at attention, and her dark brown nipples stare back at me. I don’t know much about the twenty-eight-year-old woman in front of me, but I do know she isn’t shy as she doesn’t try to hide herself or cower away.

She should be confident. She’s beautiful. But she won’t be in a minute. I point my weapon at her, getting ready to do my bidding. “Step out of the water.”

I could shoot her in the stream, but as soon as her body collapses, she’ll float away, and then I’ll have to run after her. Making her get out first is easier.

She takes a step back but doesn’t get anywhere far. “What are you going to do to me?”

I step closer to her, getting ready to fire. “Get out of the water, or I will shoot you right here, Montana.”

Her eyes water, and she comes closer to me, crawling out slowly.

I keep my eyes on her, not wanting to get blindsided. Her ass is round and plump like her breasts, but it’s covered in welts like she’s been spanked.

Did her father spank her?

Standing up straight, she holds up her hands with her chest high. “Whatever he gave you, I’ll double it. I swear. Just help me hide.”

Oh, jeez. A fucking soapbox story.

Most of my kills never get to speak to me, but whenever they do, they have some sob tale of why I shouldn’t kill them .

I point the gun at her head, getting ready to shoot, when her words play back in my mind. Not moving my weapon, I let my eyes roam over her dripping, shivering body. She’s petite but curvy. And she’s got a cute little bush of hair covering her pussy. “It doesn’t look like you’ve got a hundred grand on you, little lady.”

Her mouth hangs open and then she shuts it, gulping. “No—I don’t. But I can get you the money in a few days. I promise.”

If it were anyone else, I would’ve shot them by now. But Mason Barnes is a rich man, and I’m sure his daughter has access to his wealth. And it would be stupid to turn down one hundred thousand dollars.

But she could be full of shit. I lower my weapon, suddenly not wanting to ruin the poor girl’s face. “I was told if I kill you by midnight on Monday, I’ll get paid.”

Her eyes water, and she looks up into my eyes pleadingly. “He won’t pay you.”

Now she’s calling me an idiot. Insinuating that I’d be so gullible that I would accept a job by a scammer. I point my weapon back at her head. “It was nice meeting you, Montana.”

She screams right as I pull the trigger, but my weapon jams .

In the ten years I’ve been doing this, this is the first time my gun has ever jammed.

Montana rushes me like a German Shepherd. “You bastard!” She beats her bruised knuckles against me and knees me in my dick, causing me to keel over. When I do, she drops her elbow into the back of my neck, and I fall to my knees. She runs past me, and I get up quickly, charging after her.

“You little bitch!” I tackle her naked body to the ground, yanking her wrists behind her back while she squirms in my grasp. Her tits shake in my face, and I have to remind myself to stay focused while I yank my belt off and tie her wrists behind her back. I block out her screams while I toss her body over my shoulder, carrying her back to my truck.

“Let me go!” She kicks and screams over and over, and I slap her bare ass, trying to get her to quiet down, which makes her scream louder.

“I’m not letting you go until I get paid.”

She starts to sob on me when I get back to the truck. “He won’t pay you. I swear.”

I have no reason to believe her, but I have this terrible feeling that she’s right. Maybe her father is setting me up, and as soon as he gets her body, he’ll disappear. He has the means to do so.

I open my truck door and toss her in, ignoring her yelp when I do. She cries harder while the wound from her head starts to make a mess of my seats. “Just give me until Monday. I’ll get you your money. As long as you promise you won’t let him find me.”

If I don’t do this job, Mr. Barnes is going to come after me. I complete my jobs on or before their due dates, or it’s my ass.

But with a hundred grand, it won’t matter. I can go somewhere he’ll never find me.

Montana’s body starts to droop from her fatigue, hunger, dehydration, and blood loss. A hospital would do her good. But I’m not taking her to one.

Her eyelids flutter, and she bites her bruised bottom lip. “Please. Help me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I crank up my truck and head back down the dirt path back to the main road, giving my new prisoner one last glance before she passes out. “Alright. You’ve got a deal.”