I sat on it for about a month. Every time Pardon called to see if I had “taken care of the problem”, I would tell him I was still doing some research. In a way, it was the truth. I tailed her for a little while, checked out her routine, made notes of changes on what days. She seemed unassuming for the most part. Nothing out of the ordinary. I noticed she would be on her cell phone a lot, but other than that, she would spend most of her time alone. It made me wonder if she was in hiding. The daily routine was almost too perfect the more I thought about it.
After I all of that was said and done each day, I would go home and break something.
I figured the day I would be able to walk in and not break anything in frustration of this bullshit task that was set in front of me, then I’d be ready to take out the mark.
Alaska. Her name is Alaska.
I rolled my eyes at my conscious correction of myself and pulled out all of the information had gathered on her. I was sitting on my couch in the living room, where I did my best thinking, and turned the small box over.
The first thing I did was fish out the piece of receipt paper that Pardon had given me with her basics.
Alaska Winslow.
Short, thin.
Long black hair; blue eyes.
Her address.
Unanimous Havoc vote.
I had found out her work address, her schedule, her social media page, which was something I had only done once before with a mark. It was to see if there would be any family or friends that would miss them and she seemed like a bit of a loner.
That should make it easy. Hell, this should’ve been the easiest hit I had to do, but I was just so angry about it being a female, that I kept sitting on it.
Today was the first day though that I had come home and not broken anything. I reached the goal I had set for myself so I knew it was go time.
I put the receipt paper to the left and sifted through the pictures I had taken of her. I never did this much fucking research before in my life, but I also didn’t want to make this painful. Not for a woman, anyway. I wanted to get in and get out, clean and easy.
Reaching for my small flip notepad, I glanced at the time and found the page I needed. Today was Wednesday, 3:02 pm. She would be walking home in less than fifteen minutes from her usual visit to a local cemetery in town. I never went in when she was there so I didn’t know or care who she was visiting. I assumed it had to be some sort of family member, because according to her social media page, she didn’t seem to have any living relatives. None that she advertised anyway.
I put everything back in the box and took it to the closet. I popped it up onto the top shelf, before I went into my bedroom to change my clothes.
I picked out my usual outfit for this kind of thing. A white, long sleeved shirt, fitted dark blue jeans, and my heavy boots. It was almost the same thing I wore to the clubhouse on the day of the vote, but I hadn’t worn anything remotely close to this on my last hit, so I wanted to be comfortable. After I pulled my shirt over my head, I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I wasn’t going to wear a cap for this; I never did. Instead, I was going to apply a small dab of pomade wax and slick my hair back; it always made me look more presentable when I worked.
Once I was done and satisfied with how I looked, I went back into the bedroom and pulled open my nightstand. Inside was my 9mm Beretta. I grabbed it and secured it in the waistband of my jeans, before I went into the living room to grab my car keys off of the table.
I went out into my driveway and climbed into my brand new black Shelby Mustang GT500, and reached into the glove compartment. After fishing around for a few moments, I found the silencer that went to my gun and set it on the passenger seat. It would serve to remind me not to leave it behind if I could see it.
With a deep breath, I turned the car on and backed out of my driveway. I was telling myself every reason in the world not to do this, and for a single, precious moment, I had almost talked myself out of it until I remembered that this was a vote. It was what I did and would have to do, regardless of the mark.
Never again. I’m not doing another woman after this, I thought as I turned the car left and headed out onto the main road. Oddly enough, Alaska didn’t live far from me. Maybe a fifteen minute drive at the most, so I was hoping she’d take her time today and be al little late.
When I finally pulled onto her street, I decided to park a few houses down. I didn’t want her to see me and get spooked. So, I leaned my seat back a little bit and crossed my hands behind my head, waiting for Alaska to come walking down the stre
et.
Twenty minutes later, I saw her unmistakable small frame appear. I sat up and peered over the steering wheel to make sure she was alone. In a way she was; I noticed that she was holding a phone to her ear and she was laughing.
I pulled my gun free from my waistband and grabbed the silencer, screwing it on securely. This is going to be so bad. I can feel it.
I sat in my car and watched her. I wondered what inside of me would let me do this to someone like her, but I knew it had to be done. Once she started up the walkway to her home, I hopped out of my mustang and started toward her, gun gripped tightly at my side. It would be quick and painless I hoped. Then I could go back and tell Pardon that his miserable command had been taken care of.
I stopped a few houses down and went to the side of the brick home. I could still see her from where I was but she wouldn’t be able to see me. Nor would the homeowners know I was here, because it seemed like the driveway I jogged up was empty.
Alaska finished her phone call while sitting on the small stoop that led to her front door. She put the phone down next to her and pulled her long hair back into a ponytail, before getting to her feet and pulling her keys out of her shorts pocket.
Taking a deep breath, I moved away from my spot and started to walk toward her. By the time I reached her, she was just closing the door. Thinking fast, I called out her name.