pulled it out. Lucky for him, it wasn’t password protected.
The last message was from the man who contracted the hit, asking for photo confirmation of the two bodies.
Two?
Mac scrolled down and nearly choked on his tongue. His name was of course listed there, but not the only one; Hannah. Someone hired Mike to kill Hannah too. He concentrated on that telephone number, wondering why it looked so familiar…
Aaron Wannamaker.
That two-faced, piece of shit rat-bastard, son-of-a-bitch!
The only person who knew where Mac was and who would be with him.
The only person who had, in the past, turned anyone in for money. He swore over and over that it was a one-time thing, that he wasn’t a snitch.
Now it all made sense.
“Hannah!”
“Y-yes?”
Ignoring the sadness in her voice, Mac kept his tone sharp and jarring. The only way he knew to get her to co-operate after such a traumatic event. “Get over here, I need your help.”
She complied, reaching his side just ten seconds later. “Yes?”
“I need to make it look like we’re dead and take a photograph. You’re not going to like this at all, but it has to be done.” Mac avoided her eyes as he continued to bark out commands.
“Okay,” she replied sotto voce.
“Lie down, right here.” Mac pointed to the snow in front of her and she did, without hesitation though her trembling hands proved how terrified she was. “I need to pose you so try and relax.”
“Okay John.”
“No,” he sighed. “My name is Mackenzie, most people call me Mac. I’m sorry that I lied to you but it was necessary.”
Hannah nodded and he scowled at her unrelenting trust of him.
They were in this damned position because of him! Couldn’t she see that? Was she incapable of ferocity when it came to him?
Mac cursed in his mind, shoving the thoughts away to clear his head for the task at hand.
He worked quickly, moving her arms and legs to make her look like someone who had been shot in the head and fell to the ground. It disgusted him to have to do it, but Mac scooped up a handful of blood from the dead body next to her and spread it over her face.
Hannah did not even flinch as a complete stranger’s bodily fluids were smeared across her bare flesh.
Not even once.
“I’m sorry, Hannah but I need to take this picture of us and send it to the person who ordered the hit so they’ll leave us alone.”
Unwilling to open her mouth, lest she get some of the other man’s blood in, she nodded.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” The sentiment shocked him but he had a feeling that Hannah needed to hear it.
Hell that was a bold faced lie.
He just wanted to say it.
She did as he instructed and Mac finished up with her head, using small chunks of bark from a neighbouring tree to imitate a head wound. It wrenched his gut to see her like this; she actually appeared to be dead.
That was the point though.
Next he looked for a place to set up the phone to get a good picture of both of them. The stump was near enough and he built a makeshift stand, getting the perfect angle. He took Mike’s height into consideration and set the timer for three minutes. That gave him more than enough time to create his own wounds – it would take more than one shot to take him down, as he proved in the past – and lie down next to Hannah.
Like a trooper, she remained in the same spot, unmoving. Mac collected more blood and painted himself with it. The red wouldn’t show up on his dark clothes very well, but he put it there anyways. After nearly a minute and a half, he created a sufficient amount of false wounds and then took a knife from his pocket to tear holes in his shirt and jeans to simulate gunshots.
On the ground next to Hannah, he murmured words of encouragement and positioned himself in a believable pose. The warning beeps on the phone told him the picture would be taken soon and then he could get her cleaned up. The beeping started to increase in tempo and he whispered to her to
The last message was from the man who contracted the hit, asking for photo confirmation of the two bodies.
Two?
Mac scrolled down and nearly choked on his tongue. His name was of course listed there, but not the only one; Hannah. Someone hired Mike to kill Hannah too. He concentrated on that telephone number, wondering why it looked so familiar…
Aaron Wannamaker.
That two-faced, piece of shit rat-bastard, son-of-a-bitch!
The only person who knew where Mac was and who would be with him.
The only person who had, in the past, turned anyone in for money. He swore over and over that it was a one-time thing, that he wasn’t a snitch.
Now it all made sense.
“Hannah!”
“Y-yes?”
Ignoring the sadness in her voice, Mac kept his tone sharp and jarring. The only way he knew to get her to co-operate after such a traumatic event. “Get over here, I need your help.”
She complied, reaching his side just ten seconds later. “Yes?”
“I need to make it look like we’re dead and take a photograph. You’re not going to like this at all, but it has to be done.” Mac avoided her eyes as he continued to bark out commands.
“Okay,” she replied sotto voce.
“Lie down, right here.” Mac pointed to the snow in front of her and she did, without hesitation though her trembling hands proved how terrified she was. “I need to pose you so try and relax.”
“Okay John.”
“No,” he sighed. “My name is Mackenzie, most people call me Mac. I’m sorry that I lied to you but it was necessary.”
Hannah nodded and he scowled at her unrelenting trust of him.
They were in this damned position because of him! Couldn’t she see that? Was she incapable of ferocity when it came to him?
Mac cursed in his mind, shoving the thoughts away to clear his head for the task at hand.
He worked quickly, moving her arms and legs to make her look like someone who had been shot in the head and fell to the ground. It disgusted him to have to do it, but Mac scooped up a handful of blood from the dead body next to her and spread it over her face.
Hannah did not even flinch as a complete stranger’s bodily fluids were smeared across her bare flesh.
Not even once.
“I’m sorry, Hannah but I need to take this picture of us and send it to the person who ordered the hit so they’ll leave us alone.”
Unwilling to open her mouth, lest she get some of the other man’s blood in, she nodded.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” The sentiment shocked him but he had a feeling that Hannah needed to hear it.
Hell that was a bold faced lie.
He just wanted to say it.
She did as he instructed and Mac finished up with her head, using small chunks of bark from a neighbouring tree to imitate a head wound. It wrenched his gut to see her like this; she actually appeared to be dead.
That was the point though.
Next he looked for a place to set up the phone to get a good picture of both of them. The stump was near enough and he built a makeshift stand, getting the perfect angle. He took Mike’s height into consideration and set the timer for three minutes. That gave him more than enough time to create his own wounds – it would take more than one shot to take him down, as he proved in the past – and lie down next to Hannah.
Like a trooper, she remained in the same spot, unmoving. Mac collected more blood and painted himself with it. The red wouldn’t show up on his dark clothes very well, but he put it there anyways. After nearly a minute and a half, he created a sufficient amount of false wounds and then took a knife from his pocket to tear holes in his shirt and jeans to simulate gunshots.
On the ground next to Hannah, he murmured words of encouragement and positioned himself in a believable pose. The warning beeps on the phone told him the picture would be taken soon and then he could get her cleaned up. The beeping started to increase in tempo and he whispered to her to
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