Page 14 of The Wolf

Vega

“Who is she?” I asked as I slipped the photo out of the folder.

It was a young, pretty girl with big blue eyes and dark brown hair. She was smiling at the photographer, happy, blissful, and completely unaware of what was coming.

But I knew what was coming. I was looking at a dead girl.

“Who she is doesn't matter. That's not what I'm paying you for.” Gerard adjusted himself in the chair. He crossed his right leg over his left to pick something off his shoelace and flicked it onto the floor. “I think it's irrelevant.”

“What you think doesn't matter to me. I need to know her name. How the hell am I supposed to do my job without it?” I questioned the man sitting in my office.

He said his name was Gerard and he had a job for me. Gerard claimed he had worked with my father years ago. Whether or not he could be trusted was still to be determined. My profession wasn't one you see kids aspire to become in high school. No one wrote Future Hitman in their senior yearbook.

“Won't that make it too personal?” he asked.

“I know all their names. It's how I get the job done.” I held the picture, burning her image into my mind. “So, what's her name? I won't ask you a third time.” I flicked my eyes to his.

This wasn't a game. I didn't play games. If he wanted it done right, I needed to know.

“Poppy Aneska.”

I arched a brow as I dropped my eyes back to the image. “You're serious?”

My job came with enough risks; I didn't need to deal with some asshole who might get cold feet.

I took my job seriously, and once the deal was made, there was no going back.

If I even thought for a second that this man wasn't serious, that he might have second thoughts, or that he was working with the cops, I was out.

So far, he didn't smell like a rat. But again, trust was earned.

I didn't care if he was best friends with my fucking father, I didn't know him.

Gerard was just another asshole as far as I was concerned.

“I wouldn't be here if I wasn't,” Gerard said sternly.

“What did she do?”

He ran his fingers across his forehead and through his ash gray hair.

Gerard wore a deep blue business suit and shiny black shoes.

The olive green tie with small yellow triangles didn't match.

Thick-rimmed, black glasses sat tightly against his face, and a thin mustache traced his upper lip like a chocolate milk stain.

“This is supposed to be easy. Your father—” he started to say, but I cut him off.

“You really knew my father?” I asked.

“How do you think I knew to come to you? You don't exactly advertise on Google. Your father and I have a history.”

“Well, let's get one thing clear: I'm not my father. I don't do things the way he did. I don't answer to anyone. I don't take orders from anyone. And no one speaks for me.” I slipped the photo into the folder and slid it back to him.

“Don't you need it?” he asked, slightly bewildered.

“Nope.”

“How will you know you have the right person without the photo?”

I tapped my head. “I'll recognize her. I don't need the picture.”

Gerard furrowed his brows as his mouth crinkled and his mustache ruffled like a bird fluffing its feathers. “Look,” he said. “I need this done as soon as possible. She's a threat to everything I have worked my entire life for. I need her gone for good.”

“She looks like a child. How could a child be a threat to you?”

“She's not a child. Don't be fooled by her beauty. She'll be my downfall. I refuse to let that happen. I need this done before she does something stupid.”

“So you want me to kill someone for something that hasn't happened yet? This is a first.”

Most of my clients were mob bosses who wanted some distance between them and the hit, jaded lovers, or victims who wanted revenge, but this was new. This was a vendetta for future actions that hadn't even occurred yet.

“You're a professional, aren't you?” he asked.

I relaxed in my chair and thumbed the edge of the desk. “I don't eliminate people who are innocent.”

“She's not innocent,” Gerard said through clenched teeth.

“She knows too much, and at some point, it's going to destroy everything I've worked for. She has to be removed completely before that happens.” His hands were on the desk, closed into tight fists.

His knuckles were bright white, and his skin was pulled so thin that I could see the veins webbed beneath.

“I have no problem finding someone else if I can't trust you'll get it done.

Maybe I'll hire someone to take care of both of you.”

“Did I just hear you threaten me?” I leaned over the desk and glared at him. “I'd love to see who you hire to come for me. I hope you're not squeamish because I'll leave their fucking head at your door.”

Gerard kept his eyes on mine as he swallowed hard. “I'm not trying to offend you. I just can't wait any longer. I need this done. Your father never—”

“I told you already, I'm not my father. And you definitely offended me. I don't take what I do lightly. This is still someone's life we're talking about.”

He laughed out loud and pointed a finger. “You get paid to kill. It's what you do. You don't care about whoever is at the other end of your barrel.”

“I don't if they're bad people, but I do if they haven't done a thing to deserve it.”

“She deserves it.” The man exhaled hard as his eyes opened wide. “She killed her mother. What's more evil than killing the person who brought you into the world?”

“She killed her mother?” I asked. He shook his head yes. “Tell me more,” I said.

The man told me how Poppy was insane and dangerous. She lies. She steals. She manipulates everyone around her. And she killed her own mother. The beautiful young girl in that picture, beaming with life in her eyes, had a black soul.

“Why didn't you tell me that in the beginning?”

“I didn't think the details mattered. If she continues the way she is, I'll be dead in a year. I can't let her do that to me. I won't let her win. She wants to take everything from me.”

I shook his hand, knowing this wouldn't be an easy kill. I killed men who defied orders and stole fortunes. I killed men who murdered brothers and raped sisters. I didn't kill young girls.

If she was guilty of killing her mother, the law would have stepped in and removed her themselves. She would be in a mental hospital wearing a straight jacket or in prison wearing orange.

“I have one more question,” I said. Gerard looked at me and rolled his hand for me to go on and ask. “Why isn't she locked up for killing her mother?”

“Because she's good at what she does. Maybe even better than you. Why aren't you locked up?”

I didn't answer. Could she be that smooth? Could someone who looked so vulnerable be that deceptive? I was going to have to find out.

“So,” he said as he stood up and walked to the door. “Do we have a deal?” he asked. The man had one hand out for me to shake, and the other was passing an envelope.

“I'll get it done.” I shook his hand, took the envelope with the cash, and slipped it into my pocket.

“Do you know when?”

“When the time is right.”

“What does that mean?” he asked. “I can't wait too long.”

“You want it done right, and that's what I'll give you. That's why you called me and not someone else because you trusted my father in the past. Give me that same trust, and you won't be disappointed.”

He nodded, placed his hat on his head, and walked out.

I turned around to see he had left the folder on my desk.

I picked it up and took out the picture.

I didn't know her age. I didn't know her favorite coffee shop or where she went on a Friday night.

My fingertips traced the outline of her face as I looked into the still eyes of a girl who couldn't see her future.

I took a lighter out of my pocket and lit the end. The corner of the picture ignited with a small flame. It curled and blackened as the fire devoured her face. Ashes and embers fell to the floor. I stomped them out and got to work.

I spent as much time as needed to learn about Poppy Aneska.

For over a month, I followed her, watched her, and became infatuated with her.

Her smile was infectious, spreading like a disease to those around her.

When she spoke to someone, she looked them in the eyes.

She paid attention. She listened. Poppy was, from what I gathered, perfect.

Perfect teeth. Perfect skin. Perfect hair. Perfect body.

Her curves turned heads. Her laugh made men tremble at the knees. Her aura made women seethe with jealousy. But most people loved her. I couldn't see the evil that man spoke of. But evil comes in different forms. I knew that all too well. Every time I looked in the mirror, evil stared back.

I put on a black suit, splashed some cologne on my cheeks, and fixed my hair.

The gala was tonight. It was time to fulfill my obligations.

I was a man of my word. Poppy would be gone, erased from this earth.

It would look like a suicide. For all appearances, she would follow in the steps of her mother.

People would grieve her. They would shed tears and share memories.

They would hang pictures and place small memorials.

Her memory would live on with foundations and grants in her name.

I could already see it. The Poppy Aneska foundation for suicide awareness.

A grant for young scholars who want to study pharmaceuticals.

A bench with her name on it in the park she loved.

I stood in the back of the ballroom, watching the parade of fools pass around golden cups filled with silver. These people were horrible. If it was up to me, I'd kill each and every one of them.

I had never seen more evil in one place than the gala. I recognized some of the faces. Governors, senators, and corporate executives all huddled together under one roof. You could smell the deception as they shook hands and grinned. These were the people that ran our country.