2: Qetsiyah

SADIE.

Three Hours Earlier.

In my six months of experience, the top people never live in an easy area. 

They live in either a suite in a penthouse, or some villa seated in the middle of a large area of land covered in forestations to hide themselves properly. Some live in maybe neither a villa nor a suite in a penthouse, but at least a nice house – some building close to what you can call a mansion in a likely neighborhood. 

Some had to be killed in the middle of their pleasures in a hotel room, but from the building across. You should know the drill but in any case not, read on.

Just because they lived in a suite somewhere in one of the floors of a penthouse, or even the penthouse itself. Or some villa in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe some kind of mansion in a likely neighborhood with tight security, did not make it easy for them to be killed. Each time for any of the supposed person destined to die, I had mapped out and planned all on my own and succeeded. 

All I ever had to hear or see is, kill order (with the code assigned to the one who is to die). And it will be done clean. 

While other agents have had kills. I got more than their kills in my second week. I heard many did not have it to see skulls burst open or blood splatter more than once a day. As for me, I absolutely do not mind. What was ten or fifteen different skull bursting or blood spraying a day? It only cost me different road trips and some flights.

The other agents had warned me that I did too much. Some had told me they are advising me as a lady like me, while some said they were advising me like they would their daughters. The advice lines are always the same; ‘Very soon you will be caught by the cops, because you kill all your targets the same way. Not one would you aim at the heart or spleen, or even the liver, or some other vital organ. It is always in the middle of the forehead. Right above the nose bridge. On the root to be exact. In no time some power detective will start tracing the serial deaths. Rather than killing ten to fifteen a day, why not one? At least the attention will be reduced.” 

I had replied to some with just one word; Thanks. While I walked away from some without a word. Both responses (the silent and the monotone one) did not mean I listened to act as advised. 

If everyone fears death. I am sorry to everyone, but as for me. No one evades her. When she comes for me, she can have her ways. And if I dodge her, it is not out of fear it is all about the right time. If death chooses to come for me after I have completed my one goal, she is free but as long as the bastard who caused the pain I feel every of this day every year is still breathing; I have decided to make myself death.

Back to where I was…

While others lived in those type of houses, this particular billionaire whose ex had ordered his kill with all of the money she has in her life… lives in a fuck.ing cabin. Except for the fact that the cabin is a pretty large one compared to the rest around, you will never imagine that this is where the conglomerate owner lives. No security official or even a bodyguard like the two who follows him around in all of his press conferences, meetings, and even the office. Instead it is a German shepherd…

I look pretty normal. Pun intended because I am a pretty human too. 

The dog would not bark at me because I look like I am going on a date. 

Pretty long dress with thighs exposing slits when I walk. My makeup is heavier than normal. My scent is a petrichor one rather than my usual fruity or floral one. My heels inch is twelve. My waist length hair is dropped, rather than my usual ponytail or bun. 

This style today because I need to not look like I have a holster wrapped around my thigh. 

But of course, dogs bark at strangers and even sense peoples’ intentions. I am not a fan of pets, no offense. I used to like parrots, cats, and even dogs – but they all betrayed me. 

Not at me though. This dog steps back, judging with my previous experience with dogs. It looks rather scared than scary. Good for me, but I do one thing. I step towards it to soothe its back as I run my hand on its fur, while looking into its eyes. 

It awfully becomes calm and proceeds to sleep, making this easier for me than I would have ever imagined. While every lady makes clicking sounds with their heels, I know how well to tiptoe and walk silently in heels. Say it is impossible, but again it is I. 

Another stupid move of this billionaire is his glass door. Extremely transparent and leaving no part within sight uncovered when you peep through. Annoyingly, I cannot fail to miss how hot he is especially as he keeps walking and working in his open kitchen shirtless, with his boxer brief leaving little to no imagination on how big he is in the middle.

Fu.ck me…

Not the sexual type. I meant stupid me. 

Folding my hand into a light fist, I raise my hand to knock but as I raise my hand to knock his eyes meet mine instead. 

Again! Annoyingly, I cannot fail to acknowledge his pretty eyes. 

Then this devil proceeds to smile, absolutely sending my hands to my hair surreptitiously as I feel the heat low in my belly.

Again! Fu.ck me. And again, not sexually… but I would not mind if…

I could end him while he shuts his eyes in ecstasy as I straddle him in a fast fu.ck position…

No. no. not happening.

I must be crazy. 

“You arrive earlier than agreed.” His deep manly voice soothes my soul, in a like-hate way.

“First, I thought you would be mad at the fact that the escort you had requested for is not the one standing in front of you. So, I thought I should arrive earlier. The name is Quetsiyah.” In case you think I would stutter or be unable to find my voice, I am not sorry to disappoint you.

He is not the first hot man I have seen. In fact the criteria to the guys who work me out in bed and on every surface possible is being hot. It is just that this man standing right in front of me. I mean this one I am meant to have buried one of my bullets in his skull, who keeps trying to access me with his eyes – feels and looks different.

“Quetsiyah…” He tests the name I was told my mother used to call me.

His voice keeps doing things to me. It arouses me too.

Wait… did I just give out my real and precious name that no one calls me?

I need to kill this man. Now.

“You are more beautiful. The agency would not have sent you instead if you are not capable. Come in, I was making dinner for myself, you could join in.” He says and turns his back to me, as he begins to make his way back to the kitchen.

A perfect opportunity to bury one of my bullets in the back of his head. And trust me by now that I am not going to waste this opportunity. Taking out my gu.n, I press my thumb against the suppressor as I flick my wrist slightly, aiming at his head. 

My index finger pulls the trigger and at the speed of light, I find myself pinned against the wall with a blade grazing my carotid artery enough to have blood trickling down my neck. 

Normally, by now I would have made a move and he would be dead but his hold is tight and I cannot explain the submission but I remain still as a whisper groan escapes my lips.

“You should never have taken the offer.” He says and as the knife drops, his hand replaces the knife as he chokes me.

Without letting go of his tight hold as tears form in my eyes from the tightness in my throat. He turns to face me, and my eyes drift to my gun laying on the floor before drifting to his eyes which are no longer a shade of green, rather it is a contrasting red color. 

For the first time in ten years, I feel fear creeping its way to my heart.

“How did you get my dog to succumb to you?” He asks the most unexpected question.

Distraction with interest…

Jabbing my right knee in where the sun does not shine, I use my brass knuckled fingers to hit his face and just before he can act. I am out running with my gun. 

What was that eye color change? Why the hell was he hard to kill? How did he escape the bullet? 

He challenged me… challenged my skills. He is my first failure.

He just made me want to kill him more, his head ordered or not.