*Brief warning beforehand*
*I am not a hitman, have never been a hitman, have never wanted to be a hitman.*
*I am going off of what I think I would do in these types of situations as well what the character would do as well as doing a minimal amount of research as I do with every book I write.*
*Also, this is Bradley...and Bradley doesn’t really take anything seriously unless it pertains to the Blackstone family and their loved ones so if things seem lighthearted then you can guess why.*
There was almost nothing like the feeling of your heart pounding as you looked down the barrel of a sniper rifle at your next target.
I was hired by some up and coming company who wanted me to take out the head of their rival.
Now, I didn’t get involved in the politics of a job because that wasn’t my job. I was strictly meant to scope out my target, find the right time, and take them out with as few casualties as possible.
I had been doing this kind of work since I was young, probably in my early 20′s. But I hadn’t been alone.
Learning to shoot a gun alongside my adoptive brothers Dominic and Preston Blackstone was something in and of itself in the meaning that they were both so competitive that it was all I could do to hold in my laughter.
I had really thought that one day they would end up turning on each other but I guess the family bond is stronger than even the pull of sibling rivalry and competition.
And looking back, I would’ve thought that because I hadn’t been their actual brother that they would either take it easy on me or give me the most hell but they didn’t.
They were my best friends, even to this day, and if they ever needed anything--any of the Blackstones--I’d drop what I was doing or finish the job as quickly as possible and I’d be at their side in an instant because that’s how family works...and they were the ones that showed me that from the age of 13 when I lost my mother to cancer.
I owed the Blackstones my life but they never seemed to hold that over my head--always asking if I was available for the job rather than telling me that I was needed and forcing me.
I was grateful for them and happy that they were one by one finding and falling in love.
But it was starting to feel lonely out here without my wingmen...
Anyways, I was in the middle of a job.
Right, so here I was, looking down the barrel of my gun as I staked out the building waiting for the CEO of the company to arrive.
It was morning but still dark as the office lights were illuminating what I needed to see perfectly. The chill of winter was still heavy in Chicago in March and I was thankful I wouldn’t be sweating like I was in a sauna while wearing my normal gear.
I was wearing an all-black outfit, normal for this type of work: Black tactical pants with a long-sleeved black sweater. Black combat boots and a black beany, though I hated what it did for my black hair. My hands were covered in black gloves and I usually tried to keep a black face mask on but especially in the winter, the condensation from my warm breath moistened the mask and made it freezing against my lips and nose. I had to suck it up though because the mask protected more than just my face from the elements.
Looking down at my watch, I saw the time was just about right for the CEO to step into his office where he’d look out of his window while having his morning cup of coffee. I had been staking this guy out for a few weeks now, laying on this rooftop and watching his day to get a feel for him and try to see when the best time would be.
I also got a private look into his affair with his secretary which his wife wouldn’t love to know about--though I contemplated taking him out mid-coitus--but even I didn’t think I was that good of a shot and I had a strict policy of as few casualties as possible.
And yes, though I figured his secretary knew he was married as the man usually kept his gold band on the finger it was supposed to be on, I didn’t think she should be killed for getting her rocks off, even if it was with someone who was married.
Him on the other hand? Oh yeah, he was cheating on his wife and he had taken his best friend’s idea and made it his own--capitalizing off of it and thus this job for me was born.
And though I usually didn’t like to get too involved with their lives because it would make the job harder, I tried to find out as many incriminating things as I could so I would feel as justified as possible...
Even though me trying to ‘justify’ what I did wouldn’t hold up in a court of law...
I’d be sent to death row or sentenced to life in prison...
But that was if I got caught and I was very meticulous--I worked clean and kept my black hair short for a reason.
You don’t get the status I did or become the best as I was by making mistakes.
That’s why I did the killing but I also cleaned up crime scenes for others and disposed of bodies--to keep me well rounded and aware that even the smallest speck of snot could get me caught.
I was good at what I did and I enjoyed it for the money but also for the alone time I got.
And when I wasn’t looking for alone time, I enjoyed the company of women who loved my striking eyes and my calloused hands and the fact that I loved them to tie me up and have their way with me.
I had fallen into the lifestyle as my brothers and sister fell onto it.
They all liked being in control of their person sexually, and not, but I enjoyed giving my control to another--to help me to let go and forget who I was even just for a few hours.
But once my siblings starting leaving the dating scene behind and came to the clubs far less in favor of playing in their own houses...
I figured it was time I did the same.
I figured it was time I found someone who fit me like a puzzle piece.
I figure it was now or never gonna happen.
Right on schedule, Mr. Gerald H. Puckman walked through his office door with a cup of coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other and took me from my thoughts.
I watched as he set his briefcase down on his desk and then walked to his window to look down on Chi-town as he did every morning.
But this morning...
“Three, two,” Inhale and hold, squeeze the trigger.
Exhale, and watch as the body falls to the floor.
...Mr. Puckman wouldn’t be finishing his routine.
*I will be updating this story when I have time as it is a side project and I am still working on other things. Thank you for understanding!*
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