That Should Do It

Before you scroll down to read the latest installment, allow me to apologize for taking this long. I’ve had some personal issues that have taking my time and energy. I also have had a bit of writer’s block (it does happen), so it’s been somewhat difficult.

However, I am starting back up again and appreciate all my subscribers. I would love to get your thoughts on the story so far. Please be honest. I have a pretty thick skin, haha.

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I flip open my laptop and swipe the keyboard, removing the lint accumulated. I click on the file named, P and it opens to the safe house “Trice” and her perfect hubby are staying in. It’s dark but I can make out that they’re in bed. I turn up the volume and hear some rustling in the bed as their bodies intertwine. I take a sip of and relish the Assyrtiko white wine - the hint of lemon and other fruits mixed with a salty, bitter finish sliding down my throat.

Even thousands of miles away, nearly getting killed several times, both injured, and they still cling to each other like rabbits.

“Enjoy it while you can,” I say to no one. I take another sip and click on another file, “S” that has all my encrypted files for The Shadows. In alphabetical order, I scan down to G for Gray, the treasonous sheriff in Grantsville that, instead of taking down criminals, employs them. He’s next on my list and I already have eyes and ears ready on my mark. It would serve Patrice right to have her ex-boyfriend get the comeuppance he deserves. One-by-one, I will take from her what she took from me.

Now you may be saying that Patrice Summers didn’t kill Emma, not really. And you’d be right. But if it wasn’t for her coaxing her onto that bridge, Emma would still be alive today. I would still be married and have my children, and my life would be everything I wanted.

Instead, she did die on that bridge, I did marry a jackass who stole my children, and I lost my job. Patrice has a husband she’s been with for over 30 years, three sons, grandkids, her famous YouTube gardening channel, and a successful marketing consultant company, and of course, her devoted hubby Brock is a lawyer. The perfect match, the perfect life.

This is what my company is for: to seek and accomplish justice for those who never got any. At first, it was just killing for money but now, I want to see them suffer – before killing them. My operations are now in 20 countries, with at least 50 employees for every satellite office. It’s a stealth operation. We have people on the inside, so all this investigative stuff Patrice is doing is playing right into my hands. If she only knew our corporate office is in Athens and that silly bomb scare at the airport came from The Shadows, all to distract her, so one of my guys could put a few bugs in suitcases and I could follow her wherever her and hubby Brock goes. It’s pretty brilliant, I think.  

Of course, I wouldn’t have known she was even coming here unless I joined her little garden club, and she told everyone her vacation plans. Not very smart, Patrice. She didn’t recognize me, but I have changed quite a bit since high school. It took every ounce of patience to not just get rid of her while I had the chance. If Goldie hadn’t gotten in my business (well, and her nephew, Grant’s) then she might still be alive today. She was my favorite teacher but sometimes we have to sacrifice for the greater good.

“Hey boss,” Dimitri Slavo comes into my room, eyes cast down, not looking at me. He knows not to – I’m in control and he knows it. His slicked back black hair shines in the moonlight.

“What is it?”

“The drone’s in place. Do you want me to activate it?” I smile and crank my neck side-to-side. I attached a few pieces of dynamite to a drone just to give ole’ Trice a scare. I won’t bomb the safe house, just on the street. She needs to know that even in a “safe house” she isn’t safe.

“Yeah. Set it for 5 minutes on the street.” Let’s give Trice and Brock a little surprise.”

“You got it.”

Dimitri leaves and I take another sip.

Karma feels soooo good.

***

I sit and sip the fruity wine as I watch the drone on my laptop screen, its red light blinking ominously. Five minutes. Four. Three. Two. One. Boom. A loud explosion rocks the quiet street in front of the safe house. I glance to the other screen where I hear a scream and see lights flip on. Patrice and Brock's faces, wide with terror, flash across the screen as they bolt out of bed, naked, with Patrice grabbing her robe off the bathroom counter. The drone, its mission complete, crashes into a nearby dumpster.

I smirk, watching Trice, scared out of her wits. She will be begging for protection. And who better to provide that than the mysterious benefactor who just saved her life? Me.

I click on another file, "M" for Michael, the accountant who embezzled millions from my company. He's been living the high life in Monaco, but his days of luxury are numbered. A simple poison dart, delivered by a drone just like the one I used on Trice, will be his undoing.

As I plot my next move, a knock on the door startles me. I glance at the clock. It's late. Who could be visiting me at this hour?

I answer the door, expecting to find a courier or perhaps a late-night visitor from one of my associates. Instead, I'm greeted by a face from my past, a face I thought I'd never see again.