Hitman Freelancer Tips Novels & Stories

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and glared at him. Snapping at me, I muttered. "Finally, I didn’t come here to watch you get your dick sucked. Tell me the plan. And it better be good this time. I’m not paying you another cent if you fuck it up like last time.” The hitman chuckled darkly, flicking ash onto the floor. “Relax, Master Fred. This one’s solid. Damien is still digging around, but I’ve found a way to point him in the wrong direction. We’re going to feed him a nice, juicy lie.”

She rolled her eyes at me. I rolled my eyes at her too, and set the wine on the counter before crossing my arms over my chest. “If you want Melissa gone that badly, then I think I can help.” “How?” “We will hire another hitman.” Her lips parted as she attempted to speak but I silenced her. “No. Let me land. This hitman is super reliable and effective.” “Are you sure?” Her voice had turned low as she asked. “Yes. But….” “He’s not cheap.” “How many grands are we looking at here?”

Stan consoled him “How much do you get paid in a month?” Raymond asked. He had not made up his mind whether to do it or not. “You mean like salary?” “Yeah” “This is not a salary job. You are a freelancer. Jailbreaker will give you a username and password. You login into the web site and choose the job you think you can do, depending on the months you think the client is going to get . You decide how much you charge per month and if lucky, you could get hired and the client got discharged and acquitted. You get free money” Stan laughed as he delivered the good news.

“That’s how I like it. Quiet…” Janet’s voice was sharp. “The main thing is we need to be sure this never leads back to us.” The hitman smiled. “You’re talking to the right guy. I leave no trails and I make no mistakes.” Mandy’s fingers tapped the table. “I heard your payment has to be untraceable?” The hitman smirked. “You heard right. Cash only. No digital footprints. You get the money, I get the job done.” Jessica scoffed. “Money is not an issue.”

Not to waste more time, he was quick to leave to steer clear of the matter. It left Clemont annoyed because none of his friends were genuine. They were just after his money. After much hesitation, Clemont dialed the hitman’s number. The voice on the other end of the line was crisp. “I heard you could get rid of problems,” Clemont remarked offhandedly. The hired gun was familiar with such an attitude. He had taken on a few gigs lately, and the clients all shared the same arrogance. “That depends on what the problem is.” “I’m in the hospital. Come, and we’ll talk in person.”

“I hate threats. I can’t share my clients, and most importantly, I can’t share Damien.” The words hung in the air, heavy as lead. The man studied me for a long beat, then nodded once. “Fifty upfront. Fifty when it’s done. Clean. No trace back to you.” I slid an envelope across the table, half the cash from tonight’s tips. My fingers brushed his as he took it, and I felt nothing but cold satisfaction. “Make it hurt. Make her disappear.” He got up from his position, pocketed it without counting. “Pleasure doing business.” he said and left without another word.

"... She has a good idea of how I make a living and what pays to put gas in the car and our children through school. I send her money; enough to easily cover the everyday expenses and for both her and the kids to live well. But I also send extra. And I encourage her to invest it for the long term." I stare at him. "Invest?" "Yes, sir. Bonds, property, whatever's making a profit. I prefer her to spread her portfolio. It's safer that way." I am lost for words. Hickman pauses, sets down his cutlery and, arms folded on the table, regards me. "Sir, I am a professional hitman. The chances of me dying of old age in my bed are remote. I prefer that, should that happen, my wife and children not be le

“Ex-military, dishonorably discharged five years ago for excessive violence. Since then, he’s been freelancing.” “Freelancing what?” Sutton asked. “The kind of work that doesn’t appear on tax returns,” Roman said grimly. “A hitman,” Blair said flatly. “Someone hired a fucking hitman to kill me.” It was one thing to suspect it. It was another thing to have it confirmed. “Professional grade,” Peters confirmed. “Kellner doesn’t come cheap. We’re talking significant money—the kind that leaves a paper trail if you know where to look.” Roman leaned forward. “How significant?”

Elias had previously hacked into her account and read her private messages, so she took extra precautions this time around. This time, she didn't explicitly name the target in her bounty. She used codewords instead and refused to use any in-platform messaging. She would only use the site to pay the hitman. Soon, two or three hitmen hit her up. Yet, she didn't hire them right away because she didn't want to waste her money on useless incompetents like Rico. Sharon grilled them about their past jobs, demanded photos, and insisted they come with proper equipment. Anyone who didn't meet her standards was turned away immediately.