Rain thundered down. The little wooden bridge was swept away in the torrent of water that rushed along the river. Thunder rumbled overhead and forked lightening flashes filled the jet-black night sky. Not a star was in sight. Waterlogged bogs and saturated grasslands covered the land under the murderous sky. Nearby a woman dressed in black stealthily darted across the ground. Wrapped around her a Lycra one piece that covered her from just under her slim neck to the tip of her hidden bright red toenails. Her feet were housed in knee high shiny black boots with a heel that could kill. Her arms were free but her boots accommodated two black semi-automatics.
Rainwater tears rolled down her flawless complexion yet all she did was wipe them away quickly. She didn’t want anyone to think she had been crying. Least of all Him. She had to stay strong. Do her job. Do her job well. Mostly she mustn’t get caught. She hadn’t been caught yet. And she wasn’t going to get caught out just because she used to love Him. She had to do it. She needed to do it. She had been promised big money. She could get away. Go to Saint Tropez. She would do that. Just get that one night over. She had to do it. She would do it. He would take His last breath and it would be her that got to see it. In half an hour she would never have to deal with Him again. She would tell her employer and run. She would murder Him.
A black Porsche Boxster sped along the sodden track that led towards the abandoned house. She had called him earlier on. Asking to meet him at the house. Said She had a surprise. He hadn’t wanted to meet Her. His ex-wife who he hadn’t spoken to since She walked out with the baby. He hadn’t understood it. But She sounded desperate to talk about something. So he agreed. No one knew he had agreed they would have told him not to be so stupid. She was all he really had left in the world. A little ray of hope emerged in him hoping that She wanted to come back. He would take Her of course.
Before he knew it he had driven into a bush. That would have scratched the paintwork indefinitely. Shadows jumped out from everywhere. He switched on the radio without pausing for thought before reversing expertly out of the bush and towards the house shape that he could make out in the distance.
How was his baby? What was she like? Who did she look like? Did she look like him? Did her name get changed? They had chosen her name together.
The old decrepit house came into sight. Ever as quaint as it used to be. She had said to wait for Her inside. She said he should wait for Her inside at the top of the staircase. So he would. He didn’t want to antagonise Her. She might not talk to him. Rain had flooded the ground floor of the dilapidated home. He was soaked through to his skin from the five-second journey from his cosy warm car to the bitterly cold decaying dwelling.
She saw Him arrive in His flash fast car. He had bought that when she’d left. She’d sent numerous letters asking for child support. He had ignored them. So she did what she thought was right. Sent her baby to her parents in France and visited whenever possible. Then came back to England to do what she did best. She was about to do her last ever job. She would leave Him dead if it killed her in the process. He deserved it. She had dug His grave whilst she was waiting for His arrival. It was as deep down as she could get. He would never be found. And if His remains were, well she’d be long gone by then. She could always change her name flee to a distant country. They’d never know. They never knew about the others. She had never been found out before. And she wasn’t about to be.
Slowly she cautiously walked towards the house. She was completely prepared for Him and however He may react. As she reached the house she could see His shadow at the top of the stairs. Tall, masculine. She hated Him and everything He stood for. All things bad in the world. She was doing this to get Him back for treating her like second-rate person all the time. She could not have gone on like that. So she walked out. He probably hated her for it. But she didn’t care. Once she may have done but not now. Hell, He probably thought it was some post-natal depression that made her go. He most likely thought she wanted to go back to Him. He was wrong. Off the mark by a long shot. He would wish He had never met her. But she didn’t care. When she had received the phone call she had been ecstatic. They had no preferences over how He went they just wanted Him gone. Just like her they didn’t care.
He saw Her immediately as She walked through the propped up hinge-less faded orange door. She looked spectacular. Tall, wiry wearing a figure hugging Lycra one piece. Her waist length chestnut brown hair was tied into plaits and She had on knee high boots. She was beautiful. More lovely than he had ever remembered.
She spoke first. Soft yet dangerously low as She climbed the steep ornate stairs that led to where he was waiting on the second floor.“I’m glad you came. There’s something you need to know.”
He answered smiling. “Hi. Where’s our daughter?”She looked momentarily confused “what?“Our daughter where is she?”
Quickly recovering She replied coldly “you don’t need that piece of information. It would be wasted on you. Have any last words?”
“What” now it was his turn to look confused.
“I’m about to murder you. Had you not have been blind throughout our marriage you would have realised that I’m not who you think I am.” Colour drained from his face as he slowly realised what she may be saying. “What do you do then?”
She smiled a blood-curdling smile that contorted her usually sweet features completely. “I’m an assassin. People pay me and I murder for them. And I’ve been paid to murder you.”“You can’t. You won’t.”“Of course I can and I will. I’m a killer, a killer ex-wife. Now you wish you paid me a bit more attention don’t you?”
TO BE CONTINUED
By Hannah 10H
