and my neck, and my head, but something primal inside me compelled me to do it – to protect my core, my stomach, my womb. There was neither rhyme, nor reason for it, just an intense, irresistible urge, and I succumbed without so much as a second thought.
The first blow hit with enough force that a thousand stars exploded behind my eyes, the second landed in my side and knocked all of the wind out of me. After that I stopped counting. After that I stopped caring, but I never stopped trying to protect my belly.
In the background, I heard shouts, a scuffle, and the sound of running footsteps.
And then nothing.
8
R oman
Ten months later
I walked into the hospital by a side entrance. Turns out you can buy hospital scrubs at a costume store, and they look close enough to the real thing that no one bats an eyelid.
Rule number one when you're breaking into somewhere you shouldn't be? Carry a clipboard and look busy. Check and check.
I knew I wouldn't be the only operator who'd been enticed by the promise of a thirty thousand dollar job, so I knew I'd have to hurry. Especially as this time I couldn't just take another hitman out after he'd done my dirty work for me and claim his bounty.
No, this time I need her alive .
A bead of sweat dripped down my face, and I tasted salt in my mouth before I had a chance to mop my brow. The stakes were as high as they could be, and for the first time in years, I actually felt nervous on the job.
I grabbed a med cart that had neatly been stowed away in a corner, put my handgun in the top drawer, so it was out of sight and re-checked my phone one last time. The bright white display was sparsely populated, and formatted in exactly the same way as every job I'd ever received from the Agency.
It simply read: Ellie Francis, Alexandria General, room thirty-two. $30,000. It was a cold way to sum up a life.
But not bad for a day's work .
Except this time, I wouldn't be claiming the bounty.
The cart bumped over a slight indentation on the linoleum-covered concrete floor as I neared a bank of elevators, and I heard my weapon rattle against an assortment of glass medicine bottles. I looked down at the drawer and cursed. The damn thing was flimsier than a balsa wood table. I reached in and held it tight. The last thing I needed was the drawer's bottom dropping out and my gun spilling out into the acerbic medicine-scented hallway.
A gray-haired woman in a spotless, knee length white jacket gave me a curious look as I passed her, like she was searching her memory for my name. "Doctor," I nodded smartly, holding my breath. She nodded back politely and carried on. Alexandria General Hospital was a small enough place that she might have known every face who worked there. She got lucky. I got lucky. I didn't want to hurt her – hell, that was the whole reason I was in the middle of this mad escapade in the first place.
Ding!
The elevator doors rolled open, revealing two men in ill-fitting black overcoats. My eyes immediately focused on the tell tale bulges under their shoulders. They were operators. It was as plain as day, at least, it was to a man like me. They looked almost identical to each other, and I pegged them for Russians. Graying black hair, overweight, and the slightly dull look of men who never graduated high school? Yep, they were definitely Russian mobsters.
"In or out," one grunted, and his accent confirmed my suspicions.
Shit.
I'd hoped to avoid other hitmen until the way out at least, but it looked like today wasn't my lucky day.
It sure as hell wasn't theirs.
One of the big Russians stared at me with a look of incomprehension as I, at least in his eyes, seemed to hesitate. The truth was, I was always three steps ahead of chumps like these, usually more. Before the rusted, stuck gears that composed their minds had a chance to cough into action, my mind was already whirring.
"Sorry guys." I said, and pushed the cart forward hard.
The two men looked at it in unison. That was
The first blow hit with enough force that a thousand stars exploded behind my eyes, the second landed in my side and knocked all of the wind out of me. After that I stopped counting. After that I stopped caring, but I never stopped trying to protect my belly.
In the background, I heard shouts, a scuffle, and the sound of running footsteps.
And then nothing.
8
R oman
Ten months later
I walked into the hospital by a side entrance. Turns out you can buy hospital scrubs at a costume store, and they look close enough to the real thing that no one bats an eyelid.
Rule number one when you're breaking into somewhere you shouldn't be? Carry a clipboard and look busy. Check and check.
I knew I wouldn't be the only operator who'd been enticed by the promise of a thirty thousand dollar job, so I knew I'd have to hurry. Especially as this time I couldn't just take another hitman out after he'd done my dirty work for me and claim his bounty.
No, this time I need her alive .
A bead of sweat dripped down my face, and I tasted salt in my mouth before I had a chance to mop my brow. The stakes were as high as they could be, and for the first time in years, I actually felt nervous on the job.
I grabbed a med cart that had neatly been stowed away in a corner, put my handgun in the top drawer, so it was out of sight and re-checked my phone one last time. The bright white display was sparsely populated, and formatted in exactly the same way as every job I'd ever received from the Agency.
It simply read: Ellie Francis, Alexandria General, room thirty-two. $30,000. It was a cold way to sum up a life.
But not bad for a day's work .
Except this time, I wouldn't be claiming the bounty.
The cart bumped over a slight indentation on the linoleum-covered concrete floor as I neared a bank of elevators, and I heard my weapon rattle against an assortment of glass medicine bottles. I looked down at the drawer and cursed. The damn thing was flimsier than a balsa wood table. I reached in and held it tight. The last thing I needed was the drawer's bottom dropping out and my gun spilling out into the acerbic medicine-scented hallway.
A gray-haired woman in a spotless, knee length white jacket gave me a curious look as I passed her, like she was searching her memory for my name. "Doctor," I nodded smartly, holding my breath. She nodded back politely and carried on. Alexandria General Hospital was a small enough place that she might have known every face who worked there. She got lucky. I got lucky. I didn't want to hurt her – hell, that was the whole reason I was in the middle of this mad escapade in the first place.
Ding!
The elevator doors rolled open, revealing two men in ill-fitting black overcoats. My eyes immediately focused on the tell tale bulges under their shoulders. They were operators. It was as plain as day, at least, it was to a man like me. They looked almost identical to each other, and I pegged them for Russians. Graying black hair, overweight, and the slightly dull look of men who never graduated high school? Yep, they were definitely Russian mobsters.
"In or out," one grunted, and his accent confirmed my suspicions.
Shit.
I'd hoped to avoid other hitmen until the way out at least, but it looked like today wasn't my lucky day.
It sure as hell wasn't theirs.
One of the big Russians stared at me with a look of incomprehension as I, at least in his eyes, seemed to hesitate. The truth was, I was always three steps ahead of chumps like these, usually more. Before the rusted, stuck gears that composed their minds had a chance to cough into action, my mind was already whirring.
"Sorry guys." I said, and pushed the cart forward hard.
The two men looked at it in unison. That was
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