My name is Callen Parker, and I am hired to kill. I don’t class myself as a hitman as such. I’m just a man who loves to have death surrounding me. I have no conscience, never really have.
Right now, I’m sitting in a seedy motel, a blonde woman whose name I have no idea, has her mouth wrapped around my cock, and all I can think about is my next kill.
My client informed me my next victim will be at the dock downtown at ten o’clock. As I look to the clock sitting on the blank white wall, which is void of anything personal and just the way I like it at my own home, the time reads nine, which means I only have an hour to get there.
The blonde on my dick is all teeth, and she’s currently scraping my shaft on the way down.
There’s no point having her here if she can’t even get me off. I pull her hair forcefully until I can see her face. “Get the fuck out,” I yell and throw her to the floor in front of me.
I take my half hard cock into the palm of my hand and start stroking up and down. I see the woman standing there with her eyebrows drawn together in confusion while she stares at me. “I told you to get the fuck out,” I grunt. “Do you want me to throw you out the fucking front door?”
She jumps in fright, picking her shirt up from the floor and covering her overly large fake breasts with it and runs out the door, slamming it behind her.
I’m not a good man, but I love my job. I was born to kill, and I have no problem with who the target is—man or woman. The blonde was lucky I let her walk out of this room alive.
Focusing on my dick again, I squeeze it tightly and start pumping. “Fuck,” I yell out of frustration. That rancid bitch has tainted my cock with her useless mouth, and now I can’t even get hard or get off. Giving up, I pull my favorite black jeans up. They’re well-worn with small holes around the knee area. They’re my killing jeans, the ones I always wear on a job.
Fuck it! It’s time to pack my bags and head off anyway. Hopefully, this kill will give me the release I’m searching for. I head toward my car and throw my bag on the back seat. As soon as I close the door, I’m greeted with an unwelcome feeling. I don’t know what I’m feeling because I pretty much generally have no feelings. I shake whatever that shit was off and slide into the driver’s seat. Starting my car, I hear the purr of the engine which excites me, and I drop the clutch, place my foot flat on the accelerator, and squeal the wheels.
As soon as I arrive at the dock, I park my car out of sight behind the wall of trees surrounding the lake. With my bag in hand, I sneak into the bushes off to the side which I scoped out last night and set up my tools. All around me I hear the wildlife buzzing in a persistent drone.
It feels like I’ve been here forever waiting for this guy to show up, and I’m becoming very fucking tired of it.
Lifting my cell out of my pocket, I check the time—eleven-fifteen—over an hour late.
“Where the fuck are you?” I mumble.
Giving up, I suspect this guy isn’t coming, so I start to pack my shit and turn to leave, and that’s when I spot her. Long brown hair flowing to her waist, perky little tits, and a body that has me feeling weak at the knees. That weak-knee feeling was the same I felt earlier when I was about to get into my car and drive here. Weird.
I find myself staring at her, and as hard as I try, I just can’t pry my eyes away. She walks under the light near the dock, and her face comes entirely into view. She’s perfect. Her long brown hair tickles her face in the light breeze that fills the air. She uses her fingers to brush it from her face, and as she does, her eyes lock with mine. I feel my cock strain against my jeans as I stare into the bright blue eyes that shine under the light.
I must have her.
She finally breaks eye contact and instantly I feel lost. I attempt to shake off the feelings she’s invoked, and that’s when I see a dark shadow behind her. It’s him. The man standing behind her is the one from the photo my client sent. How the fuck am I going to do this while she’s there.
Gunfire rattles off, and I watch as her tiny body falls to the ground hitting her head on the thick railings. I watch him come into view, gun in hand and looking like he’s just won first prize at a fucking carnival. I quickly draw my gun and aim it at his head, pulling the trigger.
One single shot is all that’s needed, and he drops to the ground like the piece of shit he is. Wasting no time, I run over to the dock and jump straight over the blood-splattered railings to find her lying there holding her shoulder.
“Fuck, darlin’, are you okay?” I ask.
She looks up at me with pained eyes and a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Um… it’s my shoulder. I’ve been shot. Oh God, it hurts,” she cries out.
“It’s okay, I’ll get you out of here.” I pick up her limp body and shuffle her in my arms until her side is flush against my chest. Carrying her to my car, I stare down at her in wonder, and she seems to have the same look in her eyes. I open the back door and lay her gently on the back seat closing the door behind me. I throw my bag on the passenger side seat and make my way to the driver’s side, not taking my eyes off her for one second.
Starting up the car, I pause with my hands on the steering wheel and take a big breath. What the fuck am I going to do with her? I can’t take her to the hospital, she just saw me take a man’s life. Even if she thinks I was trying to save her life, there’s a chance she’ll tell the police everything that happened tonight, and I can’t take that risk.
I know I’m going to regret this.
I’m taking her home.