Hitman: Blood Money Missions Novels & Stories

The voices came close and I heard loud footsteps echo through the walls. 'No, man. What the fuck are you talking about? I told you I killed that little piece of shit.' 'Well, then why the hell did my men see her walking through the streets?' 'Maybe because she has a fucking sister. Dude, I told you I killed her, and I never lied to you before. So why the hell would you think I would lie about a bitch?' 'I don't know man, I just heard this from my men. They even brought me pictures of her.'

Jilly arrived at their meeting point. Cayne was already there, waiting for his angel of death. He was facing another way when she arrived and didn’t notice her at first, but he could hear her heels stepping on the cement ground. Her particular sound of heels was something that stuck in his head. “It’s not about the money, is it?” He spoke, still looking away. “There is no payment made in here.” Jilly replied, confirming his guess. She didn’t even bring anything but herself and the gun hiding underneath her top.

"Hello?" "You didn't say she had a tire iron." The voice was wheezing. Pained. "Marcus?" I whispered. "I'm bleeding, lady," the hitman rasped. "She broke my ribs. She nearly took my head off. And then her boyfriend showed up." My stomach dropped. "Did you finish the job?" "Finish it? She beat the hell out of me!" Marcus coughed, a wet, hacking sound. "And then Hayes took my knife. I barely got out before his security team swept the lot. I'm calling for my money. I want double. Hazard pay."

A better man would be wracked by how many times he had schemed a man's murder to his last gasp of a strangled breath, the sheer number of men he'd sent along on their way to Saint Peter—though more accurately it could be said he'd sent them along on their merry way to meet with Hades. He wasn't a better man. And it didn't fucking bother him. He was a VENETI. A hitman for the KASH MANCHESTER. The greatest hitman, damn it. Feelings and guilt didn't have any place in his life. Least of all over this fucker. He should have been more careful about who he tried to roll. The smooth of his tongue was pushed against his teeth as he shoved his gun into the back of his waistband, resting MIRO'S fucking

“Damn, I missed this.” Blood soaked the ground. Silence returned. “Clean it,” I said. “What do we do with the cash?” I lit a cigarette, eyes never leaving Omar’s crumpled form. “Take it,” I said. “Their blood paid for it.” We were back in the car. Blood wiped off. Guns reloaded. The city lights blinked far ahead like nothing happened. Collins let out a satisfied breath, cocky as ever. “I told you,” he said, grinning. “That bastard had it in his eyes.”

His dark brown eyes were looking down at me. He was mocking me. The man beside him gave me a check for thirty thousand dollars and twenty thousand dollars cash. My eyes were locked with his, and he didn't even bother apologizing for the damage he had done to me. "We're sorry, miss." With that, he turned around, putting his hands into his pocket, and left like he accidentally bumped into the air. I put the check and the money into my pocket. I grabbed a plastic bag from the food stall and put all the shattered camera pieces into the bag, saving the memory card. Jaz will kill me for this, and I just lost my lifeline, which made me so angry.

However, I didn’t know that trained assassins wanted her by their side, and Nikita never mentioned it “either way, back to business, and when do you need the girl?” “In an hour” “The pay would be three-hundred” “Done, you’ll get half now and half when the job is done” I said looking at the woman who raised an eyebrow. Nikita and I walked back toward the car leaving the woman who was currently waiting for us to come back with her money having not given her time to negotiate. “You carry a hundred and fifty-thousand dollars with you in the car?” Nikita asked.

You have been abiding too long with ghosts. "Humour me," I said calmly. "Before my patience runs out." He examined me at the edge of his glass. "You're asking about old money. Blood money. Before you were ready to rule." "And yet it still moves," I said. "Quietly." Vittorio leaned back. Dino, everything old is still breathing. You are the one who should know that, of all people. I leaned forward slightly. "Was it yours?" His smile was broad and very gradual. "Why ask me?"

Alex commanded. "Don't tell me how to do my job. I've been doing this thing even before we came along and became friends. So I will do a clean job. All you have to do is just send me the money right now and we will get the job done. I'll send you the pictures of her dead after I'm done with the job." The Hitman replied over the phone. "Okay, this is what we will do. I will send you half of the money and when you are done with the tax I will send you the remaining balance. Is that okay with you? "Alex asked, waiting for his reply as to whether to send the money or not.

Rambo ordered as he interrupted their gossip. “Yes, Captain,” they replied. **THE MEETING ROOM** All the mobsters were gathered, and the air was thick with a buzz of conversation and laughter. As soon as The Phoenix entered the room, the chatter fell silent. “Welcome, Don,” they all greeted, bowing their heads. “Tonight's mission is to deliver weapons and drugs to the man-power clans, and there must be no mistakes no exceptions,” The Phoenix stated. “Rambo, Viper, Archer, Dagger, and Cobra, you will be on the mission,” he announced.