Page 3 of This Life of Mine

A beat. “Oh well. C’est la vie.”

Charlie’s been on a private bounty list for three months. I happened to be in Chicago finishing another job when Reese called—excited, almost giddy. Charlie had been caught on a CCD camera down the street from me.

Pure fucking luck.

The job before Charlie had been a 54-year-old woman with a habit of killing her husbands—seven of them, actually. Twenty-two million dollars is what she’s gained in total from all of their deaths. Quite the black widow. I gained two million from her unfortunate demise.

I don’t enjoy killing women, including sadistic ones.

The outcome will be made to appear accidental, of course. She fell down the stairs. Naturally, with help.

But Charlie is the prize for tonight.

The father of the latest victim posted Charlie’s bounty—a girl he raped and murdered, then featured in his most recent video. That bounty included a bonus clause.

I’m a sucker for bonuses.

Doing what I do has its perks. I dispose of the world’s trash for cash. I travel. I work when I want. I choose my jobs and sleep like a baby afterward. When I meet the bonus requirements, I get paid extra—usually for punishments harsher than my standard fare.

What more could a guy ask for?

Of course, there are downsides. The same routine. Meals eaten alone. Training once or twice a day. No pets—though I’d like one. No relationships lasting longer than three months.

I live on the road and live for the next job.

Speaking of which, it’s time to move.

The storm that’s been stalking Chicago all afternoon is closing in. I’d watched it on the drive here—dark clouds swallowing the horizon, turning the sky the color of bruised steel. The wind had picked up an hour ago, rattling loose signs and pushing drifts of snow across the empty streets.

By morning, the city will be buried beneath a fresh blanket of white. Roads will close. Flights will be delayed. Visibility will disappear. Perfect conditions for vanishing.

I glance at my watch.

The flakes are already beginning to fall outside the warehouse windows, swirling beneath the glow of distant streetlights. Tiny scouts announcing the arrival of something much bigger.

A blizzard in Chicago causes everyone to hunker down and stay put.

Unfortunately for me, I have no intention of being here when it arrives.

“Well, Charlie,” I say lightly, standing upright. “Looks like it’s time for me to get going. Blizzard’s coming.”

Blood drips from his closed eye as he lifts his head.

“Tell the devil I said hello.”

I smile behind the mask. Then I strike a match and drop it onto the trail of gasoline.

Fire races toward him—beautiful and hungry. His muffled screams erupt as flames take hold. With four murders, twelve rapes, and two counts of child molestation, I hope he endures every fucking second of it.

Two hours weren’t enough. It never is. But I have places to be.

As I walk back to grab the small camera recording my work, my phone rings.

It’s Reese.

I take the call through my mask.

“It’s done,” I say easily. “Bonus requirements met. I made sure Charlie choked on his own dick.”