by: Dottie Taylor
word count: 750
The last two hours of my life formally began at 3:07 a.m. on Tuesday when Frens Yngvar tapped on my apartment door.
I didn't know right then, of course. It would take another four minutes for me to catch up on the news, because I was busy filing down the trigger on my Glock and had to cover up the tools and slide my back-up into my pants before I answered the door. I didn't hurry because who hurries at three in the morning? Visitors at that time are always bad news.
So I glanced through the peep hole and sighed when I saw Frens' buck teeth and pulled the door open just enough to glare at him. I also kept my foot against the back of it.
"Better be good," I mumbled, like I'd just woken up.
Frens got a funny look on his face. "Christ, where you been the last few hours?"
"Sleeping," I lied. "Until you woke me."
Frens glanced along the dim corridor, his top lip trying to curl over his big teeth. It was a sure sign he was deeply worried, when he tried that impossible feat. He leaned towards my door, making me reach for the gun at my back. But I didn't draw it. Not yet.
"Brody put a hit out on you," he breathed. "Maybe an hour ago."
Brody. Not Big Youta, who I had expected to be pissed at me. But Brody.
Goddamn it. That changed everything.
The fact that Brody had arranged the hit, not Youta, was distressing, so I could be maybe forgiven for being a little distracted. But that's how idiots get killed in my line of business. Frens must have known how the news would go down. Known and counted on it because what happened next was his fault.
Frens leaned against the door, whispering nervously, “Come on, let me in, anyone could be out here.” He twisted around, trying to see everywhere.
“Nah, I don't think so Frens, because you're right, anyone could be out there. You gave me your big news. Why don't you push off, head home, get some sleep.” My hand eased to the small of my back, resting on the .45.
He grinned, “Okay Sammy, whatever you say.” Almost wistful he added, “Why'd you go and piss off Brody?” Then, he acted like the biggest idiot in the world, not surprising, seeing what he was working with. It was either that or he had balls made of brass thinking he could take on Sammy Sunshine.
Frens's weight suddenly slammed into the door, but my foot didn't budge. As he brought his weapon up from his side, I shoved my .45 against his big nose. His eyes grew ten times their normal size as I motioned him inside the apartment. He fell onto the chair where I'd sat moments before.
“Tell me, Frens, who's out there with you? Don't lie to me, I can tell when you lie, you buckteeth stick out more.” And I grinned, smacking the gun on his nose, bringing tears to his eyes.
“Honest Sammy, no one's there except me. I swear.” Why did he try to lie? I told him not to lie.
Sliding the gun up along his head, I brought it to the middle of his forehead. “Call them.”
“Honest...” He started and I pushed the barrel into his pallid flesh.
“I said to call them.” Grinding out the words caused him to flinch, he realized in that moment his life was forfeited.
“Hank, Willy! Get in here! We got the freak!” Frens lied as he stared into the cold darkness of my eyes. In my other hand now rested the Glock with the hair trigger.
Hank and Willy burst through the door, guns drawn, to find the silenced barrel of my Glock smoking. Two quick shots to the brain, two little pings and Hank and Willy were done.
Frens made a small noise, not quite a scream. When I looked down at him, a dark patch grew to cover the front of his jeans.
“Je-sus Frens! Now how you going explain your wet pants?”
Relief flood his milky blue eyes, “you mean you're going to let me go?”
I barked out a harsh laugh. “Hell no! I meant when you spoke to Saint Peter at the pearly gates!” The Glock popped a third time, and he sagged in the chair. He would have only come after me again later.
Twisting my hair up in a sloppy bun and out of the way, I dragged the bodies to the corner and pushed the door closed. It wasn't my sunny disposition that earned me my unique name, but my long blonde hair, like rays of golden sunshine. Right now, Frens was probably wishing otherwise.
Time to go find fucking Brody, the asshole. Youta would have been easier to handle, Brody easier to find. He didn't think anyone had the cojones to come for him. But, this time he was wrong. He had met his match.
The apartment was small and had only been home for a couple of weeks, I wouldn't miss it. Grabbing the rag that laid at my feet, I brushed the door handles, the window seal, the fixtures in the kitchen and bathroom, the most likely places where trace was left behind. It was time to move anyway. The police would be crawling all over this place in a couple of hours. I snatched up my backpack and shoved my meager possessions inside; a few articles of clothing, a picture of my mom and sister. Dad was long gone by the time I was born.
The duffel was more important than a few pieces of clothing. My arsenal resided inside, and if I was going after Brody, I was going to need it. Fortunately, cash wouldn't be a problem, my line of work paid well.
With one last look behind me, I edged out of the apartment door and it to the stairwell as the elevator chimed. Looked like more company was coming, hell there was going to be a party! The door clicked behind me as I heard the pounding. There was a small woosh as the fire blew out into the hallway before sucking back into the apartment, taking those at the door with it. Collateral damage in the war that was about to start.
Thanks for the most excellent story starter Sassy and Tracy!!
Have a great Sunday!!