His hand comes up to block the light. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I turn off the flashlight and jab my index finger against the keyboard and the computer screen lights up. “Look familiar?”
He lunges forward to turn off the monitor, tripping over his own feet and nearly doing a header into the desk. The guy’s got no coordination. He fumbles around, searching for the power button and eventually just yanks the power cord from the wall, sending the room into darkness again. He thinks the computer is his problem? It really is the last thing he should be worrying about right now. I am going to make him regret every decision he’s ever made. By the time I’m done with him, he won’t be able to say his own name. Least of all Quinn’s.
“This is private shit, man,” he exclaims.
“Call the police then. Let’s have you explain all of this.” As if I’d really call them. Why bother? They are likely busy. I can take care of this for everyone. My mind drifts to Quinn. I picture her face, wondering what she is doing right now.
He doesn’t respond right away. In the silence, my phone rings. It’s Quinn. “Think about it while I take this call.” I turn a little away from him, not wanting to look at him while I talk to her.
“You’re seriously going to talk to someone—” I hold up my hand and he falls silent immediately. I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength. He likely doesn’t know what to do right now. He can’t call the police. He’ll put it all together shortly.
“Babe? Something wrong?” I speak into the phone. Maybe I shouldn’t have answered it right now but I couldn’t help myself. What if something is really wrong?
“I felt a disturbance in the force,” she jokes. Could she have really felt me thinking about her? I know it’s impossible but I thought a lot of things were impossible before her. “Just kidding. I was worried about you. Is everything going okay?” I can hear the worry in her voice she is trying to hide. Of course she is worried. This is all so new to her. She is taking who and what I am far easier than I ever thought she would. I didn’t know how good it would feel to have her know all the details of who I am, good and bad. I never want to hide things from her. It isn’t the kind of life I want to have with her.
I should’ve called her earlier when it looked like this was going to drag out. “I’m almost done. I’ll be home soon. Why don’t you put a beer in the freezer for me? By the time I get home, it’ll be cool.”
“The freezer? Oh, because you’re going to be quick.” Her voice perks up.
“Very quick.”
“Okay. On it. Be safe.”
“Love you, babe,” I say the l word without thinking. It’s been on the tip of my tongue for weeks now and I guess I couldn’t hold it in for another second. I brace myself for her response, or worse, her silence. She told me to wait until I got back home but it so easily slipped past my lips, the need to say the words to her pushing forward.
She huffs out a laugh. “Now you tell me you love me? When I can’t properly say it in return? Get your work done and get your ass back here. Okay?”
A giant grin cracks my face. “Okay.”
“Were you making a booty call while snooping around my bedroom?” Dipshit starts to come to a little more.
“I gotta go, babe. See you soon.”
“Your boyfriend’s a nutcase,” the handyman shouts.
I hang up before Quinn can hear another word. “That wasn’t a great idea.” I reach down between my feet and pick up the hammer I found in the toolbox in the hall closet.
“What the hell is that? Where are the lights? Fuck. Why is it so dark—”
I’m a hitman, or, at least, I was. I’m not here to listen to excuses or make fake bargains. I have one task and once I’ve completed the job, I’m done.
I wish I could have taken longer. Made him pay more for the things he’s done—and for the things he thought of doing—but I told my girl I’d be home soon.
I lay the hammer down next to the handyman’s head and take my leave from the bedroom window. Outside, I take off the clothes and boots and chuck them back inside. It doesn’t matter that it’s obvious he’s been killed. It only matters that it can’t be traced back to me and Quinn. There’s a host of other possible suspects sitting on his computer. I close the window and pull off the surgical gloves. Halfway home, I toss them into a trashcan.