Assassin Smoker Novels & Stories

He puffed deeply, inhaling the menthol smoke, which buzzed against the back of his throat. Stupid motherfuckers. All of them. Especially Deyquan, ragging on his terrorist theory. Like he knew any better. Such bullshit. Seriously. A girl dead in the bathroom, drowned in a fucking sink. Who did that? Not your average psycho-serial killer. That was straight-up, hardcore assassin shit. Like stabbing someone’s brain through their eye with a pen. Or strangling them with piano wire. He should know. He played Assassin’s Creed and Call of Duty and Splinter Cell, 24-7. He’d seen all the Jason Bourne movies, too.

He then smirked and moved his face closer. "A little impatient, are we?" "I don't know what game you are playing, but if you want a fight, then let's do that! Stop pinning me on this damn bed!" "Why would I? I like it this way. The only first class female assassin in House of Spades, under me... on my bed... in my room." "You are really testing my patience, aren't you?" "Hmm..." "If it's true you are the patron for this mission, then that means you want to die. Why don't you let me do my job? It would be my pleasure."

Bandit was a cute guy; he was huge with a buzz cut, and with his dark Italian looks, he was every girl's dream man, but with the news I just got today and Aidan's maddening obsession over me, I was not willing to even entertain the idea. I made my way to the changing room, cursing myself for not following the back exit as I struggled to walk through the sea of gyrating people. I quickly changed and stepped in front of the mirror to do my smoky makeup before applying multiple layers of watermelon lipgloss. I paused to look at my eyes. It took me a while to get used to looking at them. I had segmental heterochromia; both eyes were green, but my left iris had a dusting of gold at the bottom.

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

I nod, “Since I have to be visible, I’ll assign myself to their tables and make vague comments. But we have to give them a chance to get me alone and allow them to strike.” He nods. “That’s why we need everyone to come in and plan this carefully.” As soon as he walks away, my mind keeps spinning with possible plans. There are so many things to consider. Within the hour, every Assassin within the vicinity is once again sitting at the conference table. I look around with amazement; Priest, Corbin, Dragon, Stryker, Cameron, Jaxon’s niece, Valkyrie, a Scotsman who is ironically named Scotty, Phanthom and Heathen join our group. Phantom is the strong, quiet type, while Heathen is a loud, rugged c

Gabriel said, “I didn’t much want to be alive. Ten years of waiting, not knowing if the pull would ever lead anywhere. So I found the most dangerous work I could.” She waited. “I was an assassin, Honor. A professional killer. I took contracts — targets — and I eliminated them. That was my life for the better part of a decade.” She stopped walking. He stopped too, hands in his pockets, and let her look at him. Let her take the time she needed to put it together, to decide what she thought of it. He’d learned enough about her to know that rushing her to a reaction she hadn’t fully formed would only make it worse.

Steffy automatically kicked the side of his leg when she heard that, making him groan in pain. "What's that for? Jeez," moaned the young man. Steffy took a few steps and sat at her usual spot. Taking an expensive cigarette, she lighted it up and casually put it between her lips. "Do you smoke?" she asked him. "You bet!" She tossed the pack along with a golden lighter. Yolo expertly caught them both. "Woah. These are expensive!" In his hand was a pack of Ashton VSG Corona Gorda, one of the most in-demand luxury cigars on the market.

His dark shades matched perfectly with the black long winter jacket he had on. The smoldering of the cigarette he smoked on lighted the room a little. He emptied the ashes from the cigarette into the ashtray on the table opposite him. One of his men walked in. He had a pistol in his hand. “Don Asher, why didn’t you let us finish him off?” Asher smirked maliciously and replied in a croaky voice. “Looks like we don’t really have to do too much. Our mission is much easier than I thought it would be.”

No sooner had she reached the bank of the river than she stopped on her tracks upon witnessing the scene that had welcomed her. The young master, Weylin Turner, was leaning on his parked bike with his back facing the assassin. His black blazer covered his massive back. The twirling smoke from the burning tip of the cigarette seemed to rise heavenward. The assassin could sense a heavy air around him.

Maria greeted, her smile as sharp as a dagger. The assassin smiled back, hiding the poisoned dagger strapped to his leg. The dinner was lavish. Spiced meats, golden pastries, exotic wines. The assassin feigned interest in conversation while waiting for the right moment. But before he could make a move… he began to choke. His vision blurred. His throat burned. His body convulsed. The last thing he saw was Maria raising her wine glass, smirking as she watched him collapse. His corpse was quietly removed before dessert was even served.