| Mystery and Crime Flash Fiction posted August 8, 2022 |
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Did she take too many chances?
Assassin Who Would Not Listen
by RodG
Assassinate Me A Thriller! Contest Winner
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
"Leave no witnesses!" were Aldo's last words of instruction.
Aldo is my brother and my handler. He's also the front man for the Chicago Outfit. For all wet work, he uses only me, La Tigre.
Anxious to depart, I stood at the door of the small room in La Vacanza, the Vegas hotel he managed. He sat at a small wooden desk, staring at the black phone.
The call had come from his immediate boss. I was given a name, a photograph, a location, and 24 hours to complete the task. The hit would require ingenuity and finesse.
#
That evening I wandered through the casino until I spotted the target at a craps table. I sidled up beside him and blew on the dice before he tossed them.
"Seven!"
First toss, big win. His arm wrapped around my waist.
My plan: Tease him as he drank and gambled, seduce him into taking me into his room, slit his throat inside.
Sober, he won big; drunk, he lost it all. When he stumbled back to his room, I followed.
But I'd been stupid. I'd assumed he'd checked in alone.
We were about to enter when a leering thug appeared. Both men grabbed my arms and pulled. I screamed.
Before the door could close, a stranger appeared and barreled into the thug, knocking him to the floor. As they rolled around, I attacked the drunk. I bit his hand, kneed his groin, and slit his throat.
The thug, who'd somehow dispatched my hero, grasped at me. He hadn't seen my knife. I drove it into his throat.
My hero stirred.
I should have run, let him deal with the police, But he'd seen me.
"Leave no witnesses."
He was barely conscious. I should have stabbed him and left three bodies.
But he'd saved me.
Because he looked rugged, I pulled my gun from my purse.
Rubbing his neck, my hero looked down at the two dead men lying in pools of blood. Then he swung his gaze to me and smiled.
"I've never dated a killer before."
"Date? You're lucky you're still living."
"True. Why am I?" he asked, still smiling. "You've had plenty of time. But there you stand, a knife in one hand, a gun in the other. A very sexy pose. I think you like me, so let's call it a date."
I do like you, damn it!
He was no Brad Pitt. Not even close. But I'm a knock-over for a big smile and a dimpled chin. And . . . he'd saved my life.
"Quite a mess," he said. "Should we call Aldo?"
I pointed the gun between his eyes and growled, "Who are you?"
His smile never flickered. "L'ombra."
The Shadow. Aldo's all-purpose henchman I knew existed, but never met.
#
An hour later we were dining in my favorite restaurant and sipping champagne. He'd called Aldo. The "mess" was already forgotten.
"The boss's sister," he whispered in my ear. "I'm enchanted."
I smiled. Me too!
"Leave no witnesses!" were Aldo's last words of instruction.
Aldo is my brother and my handler. He's also the front man for the Chicago Outfit. For all wet work, he uses only me, La Tigre.
Anxious to depart, I stood at the door of the small room in La Vacanza, the Vegas hotel he managed. He sat at a small wooden desk, staring at the black phone.
The call had come from his immediate boss. I was given a name, a photograph, a location, and 24 hours to complete the task. The hit would require ingenuity and finesse.
#
That evening I wandered through the casino until I spotted the target at a craps table. I sidled up beside him and blew on the dice before he tossed them.
"Seven!"
First toss, big win. His arm wrapped around my waist.
My plan: Tease him as he drank and gambled, seduce him into taking me into his room, slit his throat inside.
Sober, he won big; drunk, he lost it all. When he stumbled back to his room, I followed.
But I'd been stupid. I'd assumed he'd checked in alone.
We were about to enter when a leering thug appeared. Both men grabbed my arms and pulled. I screamed.
Before the door could close, a stranger appeared and barreled into the thug, knocking him to the floor. As they rolled around, I attacked the drunk. I bit his hand, kneed his groin, and slit his throat.
The thug, who'd somehow dispatched my hero, grasped at me. He hadn't seen my knife. I drove it into his throat.
My hero stirred.
I should have run, let him deal with the police, But he'd seen me.
"Leave no witnesses."
He was barely conscious. I should have stabbed him and left three bodies.
But he'd saved me.
Because he looked rugged, I pulled my gun from my purse.
Rubbing his neck, my hero looked down at the two dead men lying in pools of blood. Then he swung his gaze to me and smiled.
"I've never dated a killer before."
"Date? You're lucky you're still living."
"True. Why am I?" he asked, still smiling. "You've had plenty of time. But there you stand, a knife in one hand, a gun in the other. A very sexy pose. I think you like me, so let's call it a date."
I do like you, damn it!
He was no Brad Pitt. Not even close. But I'm a knock-over for a big smile and a dimpled chin. And . . . he'd saved my life.
"Quite a mess," he said. "Should we call Aldo?"
I pointed the gun between his eyes and growled, "Who are you?"
His smile never flickered. "L'ombra."
The Shadow. Aldo's all-purpose henchman I knew existed, but never met.
#
An hour later we were dining in my favorite restaurant and sipping champagne. He'd called Aldo. The "mess" was already forgotten.
"The boss's sister," he whispered in my ear. "I'm enchanted."
I smiled. Me too!
Aldo is my brother and my handler. He's also the front man for the Chicago Outfit. For all wet work, he uses only me, La Tigre.
Anxious to depart, I stood at the door of the small room in La Vacanza, the Vegas hotel he managed. He sat at a small wooden desk, staring at the black phone.
The call had come from his immediate boss. I was given a name, a photograph, a location, and 24 hours to complete the task. The hit would require ingenuity and finesse.
#
That evening I wandered through the casino until I spotted the target at a craps table. I sidled up beside him and blew on the dice before he tossed them.
"Seven!"
First toss, big win. His arm wrapped around my waist.
My plan: Tease him as he drank and gambled, seduce him into taking me into his room, slit his throat inside.
Sober, he won big; drunk, he lost it all. When he stumbled back to his room, I followed.
But I'd been stupid. I'd assumed he'd checked in alone.
We were about to enter when a leering thug appeared. Both men grabbed my arms and pulled. I screamed.
Before the door could close, a stranger appeared and barreled into the thug, knocking him to the floor. As they rolled around, I attacked the drunk. I bit his hand, kneed his groin, and slit his throat.
The thug, who'd somehow dispatched my hero, grasped at me. He hadn't seen my knife. I drove it into his throat.
My hero stirred.
I should have run, let him deal with the police, But he'd seen me.
"Leave no witnesses."
He was barely conscious. I should have stabbed him and left three bodies.
But he'd saved me.
Because he looked rugged, I pulled my gun from my purse.
Rubbing his neck, my hero looked down at the two dead men lying in pools of blood. Then he swung his gaze to me and smiled.
"I've never dated a killer before."
"Date? You're lucky you're still living."
"True. Why am I?" he asked, still smiling. "You've had plenty of time. But there you stand, a knife in one hand, a gun in the other. A very sexy pose. I think you like me, so let's call it a date."
I do like you, damn it!
He was no Brad Pitt. Not even close. But I'm a knock-over for a big smile and a dimpled chin. And . . . he'd saved my life.
"Quite a mess," he said. "Should we call Aldo?"
I pointed the gun between his eyes and growled, "Who are you?"
His smile never flickered. "L'ombra."
The Shadow. Aldo's all-purpose henchman I knew existed, but never met.
#
An hour later we were dining in my favorite restaurant and sipping champagne. He'd called Aldo. The "mess" was already forgotten.
"The boss's sister," he whispered in my ear. "I'm enchanted."
I smiled. Me too!
|
Writing Prompt In 500 words or less, write a thriller (or/and horror) prose involving an assassin/assassination or hitman/hitwoman. No poetry or script, please. Be creative and have fun! :) |
Assassinate Me A Thriller! Contest Winner |
Artwork is courtesy of Google images.
WORD COUNT: 498 Apple Pages
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