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The naked man lay back in the bed and watched the lazy fan turn.

It did little to cool the room in this summer heat, and this cheap motel had no other form of air-conditioning.

It suited him and his purposes, though, as the place was off the main roads, and the desk clerk made a point of not looking or speaking to him.

Every morning he slid cash through the ridiculous chicken wire fencing of the front desk, and the sour-faced person behind the questionable protection took it.

That was the total of their interaction, and he was fine with it.

He should have been ready to leave this place.

He should be on his way back to his home in Khyber Pass.

He should be done with this last job he was hired to do.

Instead, he was pissed.

The fire was supposed to take out the final target, but somehow, she escaped her death.

It bothered him, as very few times in his life had his plans failed and the victim survived.

His tasks were carefully built after observation and research to make them seamless and unnoticeable.

Shooting someone on the street in most cities would trigger police investigations and some media coverage.

Watching someone drop dead from a heart attack brought on by poisoning his morning coffee, well, that was natural causes with no need for fussy attention.

He preferred to operate quietly. Get the job done and get paid.

He sighed and put his hands behind his head.

His body was lean and cut, his skin glowing a shiny bronze.

Various scars dotted his chest from burns, cuts, and in two cases, bullets.

One of those bullets came from his carelessness at a gun testing range in Khyber Pass.

The other came from carelessness during one of his first assignments.

The blonde whore he’d fucked to get information said she liked his scars.

They made him look tougher than the pussies at the strip club.

He smirked. Yes, he was tougher than the pussies at the strip club.

He’d seen them there when he scoped out the place to find his target.

Old men trying to stay relevant in a world that didn’t want them anymore.

The Slaggers club was worse. Young men too stupid to recognize their insignificance.

He had slight respect for Wolf, but that still didn’t amount to much.

They were all collateral damage as long as he finished the job and eliminated the target.

He stared at the water-stained ceiling and made his next plan.