He walked slowly through the dark alley. He was on his way to make his first contact with his next victim. He always felt a little thrill when he first made eye contact with someone he was contracted to kill, but this was different. He wasn’t getting paid for this one. He had seen this woman before, many times, as he had made his plans to kill her husband. She was always at her husband’s side, smiling, charming, but he thought she seemed so vacant, as if her mind was somewhere else. He was almost sorry he had to kill her now, but she had seen him when he murdered her husband, and he couldn’t afford such a witness.

It had taken him months to track her down. She had disappeared before he could kill her the night of her husband’s death, and he was a little amazed at how well she had eluded him. But he had never failed to track someone down, and she wasn’t going to be the first. He had finally located her using his extensive group of contacts. She was waiting tables in a seedy blues bar in New Orleans. He was going there tonight to see if his contacts were right.

She was an enigma. He was completely surprised by her immediate disappearance after her husband’s death. She should have inherited quite a bit of money, but she never claimed it. Her sudden disappearance had cast a shadow of guilt on her, and had actually helped him escape any scrutiny by the local authorities. He couldn’t understand her at all.

He walked into the dark little bar. A band was playing, and the music was a little loud. He sat at a small unoccupied table, and looked around. He spotted her almost immediately. She was thinner, her hair was different, but she was unmistakable. She eventually walked over to him.

“Can I get you something?” she asked.

“A beer, please. Do you have Tecate?”

“Si, senor. One Tecate coming right up.”

He was sure she recognized him. When he spoke he noticed that her eyes opened wide and she examined his face briefly. He was sure he saw fear in her eyes. As she walked toward the bar, she glanced back at him. Yes, she knew who he was. He knew she had to die.

I noticed the man when he walked into the bar. He was incredibly attractive. His dark shoulder length hair was slightly damp with perspiration. His huge dark eyes looked around the place before he spotted the empty table in my section. I gave him a minute or two, then walked over and asked him if I could get him something. When he opened his mouth, I felt a chill run up my spine. No, please, no. I knew it was he as soon as he opened his mouth. How had he found me? I had only begun to sleep through the night since that awful night all those months ago. I felt nauseated. He had to be here to find me. It could not be a coincidence. This was really happening.

I breathed deeply and tried to regain my composure. If I ran, he would just follow me, and I would be just another murder victim in this city. I tried to think. How could I elude him? His dark eyes kept creeping into my mind. I thought I might be able to convince him that I didn’t know who he was. I would have to act relaxed, show no signs of fear, be completely cool. I placed his beer on my tray and took it to him.

“Here you go! Can I get you anything else right now? No? Ok, well my name is Lynn. If you need anything just let me know!”

I was trying to be bubbly, but I felt as if I was only making a fool of myself. I was sure he could see right through my little performance. But I didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t ask for anything, just sat there and very slowly drank the beer. I could feel his eyes follow me everywhere I moved. I became more and more nervous as he sat there. Was he just going to wait there until my shift was over, follow me outside and shoot me on the street? My hands were shaking as I reached for the two beers on the bar. I knocked them over, and as I hurried to clean up the mess, I knew I couldn’t afford any mistakes like that one. He had to know that I was frightened of him. I glanced at him and he watching me as I cleaned up the spilled beer.

How could I make him understand that I would never report him to the police? That the death of my husband had been my key to freedom? That until he had walked through the door, I had been happier waiting tables in this bar than I had ever been during my marriage? Maybe if I could just talk to him, I could make him see that I was not a threat to him. My mind was racing. Was it possible to reason with such a man?

I promptly dumped a beer onto a customer, and completely lost it. My eyes misted over with tears of terror. I apologized over and over, then stumbled to the bar for a towel. I couldn’t see for my tears, and I tripped and fell. Earl, the bar’s bouncer, helped me up.

“Lynn, what is with you tonight? Are you ok?”

“Oh Earl, I… I can’t tell you. I just need to go to the ladies room for a minute. I’ll be fine.”

I fled to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, and tried to wash the rivulets of mascara from my skin. I wondered if he thought I had run away, and would leave to try to find me. I remained in the restroom for several minutes. As I thought about him, I became angry with myself for blowing it. I looked at my puffy eyes in the mirror, and thought there had to be a way out of this situation. I just had to convince him that I would never report him. I would have to go back out there and talk to him.

I took a few deep breaths, and decided to be brave. I walked back into the bar. I was prepared to meet his eyes, and walk right over to him and tell him that I knew who he was. I turned the corner and… he was gone. A young couple now occupied his table.

Shit! I thought. Oh great. Now he was going to be waiting for me when I left. He would probably be waiting in the parking lot, and would shoot me as I got in my car.

Earl was sitting at the bar. “The guy at your table had to leave. He left this for your tip.”

He handed me a bill. I looked at it. The assassin had left me a fifty-dollar tip.

The man watched as ‘Lynn’ slowly fell apart over the course of the evening. She was interesting to him. She had tried to pretend she didn’t know who he was, but she couldn’t hide her fear. It pleased him that he had such power over her. He rarely let a mark see him, except at the moment of their death, but somehow, he needed to know if she remembered him. And she had remembered. She would have to die, but he still wanted to know why she had run after her husband’s death. He felt a twinge of regret about the need to kill her, a feeling he almost didn’t recognize, as it was so foreign to his nature.

He waited, out of sight, until the bar closed. He saw her emerge from the bar, with the large man who had helped her up when she fell in the bar. He walked her to her car, and she got in and drove away.

Shit! He would have to go to her apartment and watch her there, to make sure she didn’t escape him again, and to ask his questions, then kill her.

Earl walked me to my car. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could tell I was frightened about something, but I wouldn’t tell him what. I knew that his life was in danger, but I could only hope that the assassin would be a good enough shot that he would only kill me. I just couldn’t tell anyone why I knew this man, or why he frightened me so much.

I got into my car, and locked the door. Like that would stop him, but at least it might keep me safe from some of the other criminals in the city. Although my apartment was not far from where I worked, I drove through the city streets, taking many extra turns. I peered into my rear-view mirror to see if anyone was following me. As I drove, I tried to think of what I could possibly tell him that would keep me alive. That is, if I ever got a chance to talk to him before he killed me. Why had he given me such a large tip? Did he feel sorry for me? Did he regret having to kill me? Or was he just teasing me, because he enjoyed scaring me. I hoped that I would get the chance to ask him, because my only hope of staying alive was to talk to him.

I had a small apartment in a not too nice neighborhood, but it was all I could afford on my wages. As I pulled into the lot, I noticed that the one remaining street light in the lot had finally gone out. Had he been here to shoot out the light? Oh no, he had found my home. I sat in the car, and nervously looked around for any sign of another human. I listened through the window for any dogs barking, or anything that would tell me something was wrong. I could see nothing, but I knew if he was there, he would not be so careless as to let me see him. I finally took a few deep breaths, and quickly got out of my car and hurried toward my apartment.

As I approached the door, a hand grabbed me across the mouth from behind. I felt cold steel against my face. A voice whispered in my ear, “don’t make a sound, and I won’t hurt you. I only want your money.” I felt relief flooding into me. It wasn’t him! It was only a simple mugging. I never thought I would be so glad to be robbed.

Then I heard that unmistakable voice.

“Drop the gun,” he hissed.

“Hey, I’ll kill her! Don’t think I won’t! You drop your gun!” the mugger shouted.

“Listen, you stupid little fucker! I don’t really care if I kill you both, but if you want to walk away, drop the gun.”

The assassin watched the mugger intently. The gun was shaking in the boy’s hand. He felt certain he would have to kill the kid, but he really wanted to save her for himself.

“Drop the gun now. If you don’t, I will kill you. If you kill her, it will save me the trouble, but you will be dead, too. Take your pick.”

He waited and watched. The boy’s face became more determined, and the assassin knew he would have to kill him.

“My patience is wearing thin, mother fucker. Drop the gun in the next 30 seconds or die.”

The kid opened his mouth to shout something, but the words were never uttered. Four bullets flashed from the assassin’s silenced gun. The kid squeezed the trigger of his gun as he fell to the ground. The echo of the shot reverberated off the nearby buildings.

The sound exploded in my ear like a cannon. I fell backwards when the mugger let go of me. I was too stunned to move for a moment. I couldn’t see anything but the flashes from the gunfire imprinted in my eyes, and I could hear nothing. I wondered if I had been shot. Then I felt his grip on my arm.

“Get up! Let’s get out of here before someone calls the cops.”

He yanked me to my feet. “Which apartment is yours?”

I dumbly marched in front of him and let him into my home. He slammed the door behind us.

“Turn on a light,” he ordered.

“Why, so you can watch me die after you shoot me?” I answered sullenly. This man, this horrible man had just saved my life so he could take it himself. I remembered thinking he was attractive when I first saw him in the bar. Now I could only think, how could anyone be so purely evil?

“I haven’t decided if I am going to kill you or not. I want to ask you some questions.”

“Questions? I felt another surge of fear. Did he suspect something?

“What questions?” I said as I turned on the light. I wanted to see his face.

“Why did you run after I killed your husband?”

“I was afraid of you.”

“Well, you should be afraid of me. I am very dangerous.” His eyes glittered. “But that isn’t why you ran. If you were just afraid of me, you would have used your husband’s money to protect yourself. Not that it would have worked, because I would kill you anyway. There is no way you can stop me,” he said, arrogantly. “So. Try again.”

“Why should I tell you anything? You will just kill me anyway,” I replied. I sat down on the couch. I stalled as much as I could, while I tried to think of something to say that would convince him not to kill me.

“Listen, sweetie. I don’t have time to play with you. Answer the questions, or I will kill you now.”

I knew he would, too. I took a deep breath. “Ok. Ok. I ran because I was a prisoner in my own home. My husband owned me. He didn’t love me. I was only a prop for his political career. We had nothing in common. I don’t think he even liked women. He never touched me, except in public, nice little polite gestures to fool the constituents. You actually did me a favor by killing him.” A very expensive favor, as I now knew.

“You were glad I killed him? I guess that makes sense. I often wondered about you when I watched you together. I saw the loathing in your eyes when he wasn’t looking at you.”

I glanced at him. He was watching me intently, and I thought I saw the idea form in his mind, as his eyes looked me over. I had seen that look in many a drunken customer’s eyes over the last six months. Well, if he wanted me, and it might keep me alive, then I wasn’t going to argue. Besides, he was really attractive…

I smiled at him, a little seductively, I hoped. His eyes opened wider, then he laughed.

“You know what I am thinking, don’t you,” he teased. “And don’t deny it. You are attracted to me, aren’t you? But your flirty little looks aren’t going to save you. Besides, the mud smeared on your face ruins the effect.”

I blushed from embarrassment and rage. His complete arrogance made me want to slap him. I stood up quickly and ran for the bathroom. He was right behind me. He grabbed my arm roughly.

“Where are you going, sweetie?” he said, as he spun me around.

“Let go of my arm. You are hurting me,” I snapped.

“So? Do you think I care?”

I slapped him hard across the face. He raised his free hand to slap me back. I flinched, and closed my eyes, waiting for the blow. But instead, he pulled me towards him, and his lips forcefully pressed against mine. I struggled against him, as his body forced me up against the wall.

“Why do you fight? You know you want it.” His breath was hot against my face.

“Stop it!” I turned my face from his kisses. I fought against his weight, but he had me pinned to the wall. His legs pressed against mine, his strong leg muscles completely immobilized me. His grip on my wrists grew tighter and brought more tears to my eyes. “Listen, you little bitch, do not flirt with me, then tell me you don’t want me. I don’t have time for that.” I quit struggling against him, resigning myself to my fate. Maybe if he got his way, I could at least convince him to leave me alive. “Stop, please, stop.” My voice cracked as I begged him to quit.

He realized I stopped struggling, and his grip loosened slightly. I still couldn’t escape him, but the pain in my wrists was less. He finally let go of one hand, and brought his hand to my face. He forced my head around. “Look at me.” I kept my eyes down, open, but only staring at the opening where his neck emerged from his shirt. I noticed his skin was wet with perspiration. “Look at me,” he said, in a low, angry voice.

I slowly brought my eyes up to me his. It was very dark in the hall, and his eyes looked black in the dim light. He gazed into my eyes for what seemed an eternity before he finally spoke.

“I thought you wanted me. I am not in the habit of raping women.”

“I don’t want to be raped or killed,” I sniffed. “I just don’t understand you. If you are going to kill me anyway, why do you care if you rape me first? You have morals about rape, but not about murder? Please let go of me. I don’t know what you want from me. First you want to kill me, then you want something else. I just know I don’t want to die just yet. I do find you attractive, but…I like nice men. Men who take the time to sweet-talk a girl before they get what they want. When I saw you in the bar, I didn’t recognize you, until you opened your mouth. I was attracted to you until I realized who you were. I was serious about what I said before. I should thank you for killing my husband.” I knew I was babbling, but he seemed to be listening to me, and that mocking look was gone from his face. I felt like Scheherazade. As long as I kept talking and kept him interested in anything, maybe he wouldn’t kill me.

He looked puzzled. “A nice man. What is a nice man? What do you know of nice men? The man you married wasn’t nice.” He paused.” I am not sure I know how to be a nice man.” His hand brushed a tear from my face.

“Well, that’s a start. Can you be gentle? Have you ever been gentle?” I asked.

He let go of me and turned away. I didn’t move.

“Gentle? What the hell is gentle? My life has not been gentle. I don’t even know what the word means.” He turned around, looking again into my eyes.

Look, … I don’t even know your name. It is hard to have this conversation when I don’t even know your name.”

He turned back to me. “I am Miguel.” He reached out to shake my hand. I stood staring at him standing there with his hand reaching toward me. I didn’t move at first, but I saw the hand start to pull back, and I reached for it. I caught his fingers with mine.

“That was gentle, Miguel.” I said. “And I am Chris, but you already know that.”

He pulled my hand toward him. His other hand caught my waist, and he pulled me slowly until our bodies were touching. His lips pressed softly against mine. He kissed my lips, my face, and my neck. His tongue snaked across my neck to my ear. He whispered, “Is that gentle?”

I felt the heat rising through my body. “Mmmmmm,” I responded.

His lips pressed against mine again. His tongue brushed my lips, then his teeth pulled my lower lip. His kisses grew more insistent, as his tongue slipped between my lips and explored my mouth. My intense fear was gone, but the emotions were not. His kisses were like none I had ever tasted. I had never wanted a man the way I wanted him now. A moan escaped my lips. He stopped. I opened my eyes. “Don’t,” I whispered.

“Don’t?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Where?” He asked. I tilted my head to point down the hall. “Let’s go.”

I took his hand and led him into my bedroom. He pushed toward the bed.

“Gently, Miguel.”

“I am trying, Christina.” He paused for a moment. “Are you doing this because you think this will keep me from killing you? Because I have decided I am not going to kill you. If that is why you are taking me into your bed, I will allow you to change your mind.” I answered him by pulling at his shirt and falling back onto the bed. He landed on top of me and a laugh escaped his lips, then his hands began slowly unbuttoning my shirt. He kissed me slowly as he slipped it across my shoulders and over my arms. I struggled with his shirt. My hands were still shaking. His hands moved across mine.

“I’ll do it. Lie down.” He pushed me back against the pillows. He sat on the edge of the bed and stripped. I watched him as he slipped his shirt over his broad shoulders, and strong arms. I noticed as slipped his gun from his belt and put it on the nightstand. He saw me watching him.

“I can trust you, right? You know I won’t hurt you now, don’t you? I am being gentle.”

I actually laughed. “Yes, I won’t kill you with your own gun.” I touched his back with my hand as he slipped his trousers off. His skin was warm and slightly damp. There was an electrical current surging through me. He turned and unzipped the short skirt I was still wearing and slipped it off. Then he fell across me. His hands slipped behind my back and quickly slipped my bra off. He kissed my lips, my face, and his tongue followed a line down my neck until he reached my breasts. His fingertips slowly played across my skin. His tongue gently slipped over my breasts, licking me and sending shivers through me. I slipped my hands into the waistband of his shorts. I felt the strong muscles in his butt move under my hands, as I tried to pull him to me.

“I think you do want me,” he said.

“I think so. What are you waiting for?”

“An invitation.”

His hand slipped between my legs, and slowly slipped upward. Then he slipped my panties off.

“Hey,” I said, “no fair, you have to take yours off too.”

He laughed and slipped his shorts off.

His lovemaking was as intense as everything else about him. He was an expert in every way. He knew how to give me intense pleasure and took the time to make sure I was enjoying it as much as he was. My body was on fire from every touch, but he was slow, teasing me, making me beg him to take me. He laughed and told me all in good time. Our bodies soaked the sheets with sweat. He pulled me upright, straddled across his hips and brought me to such an intense climax that I cried out. His own release was a moment later, and he pushed me back against the bed, His body still joined with mine. We didn’t move for a long time. He finally pulled away from me. He kissed me, and asked, “Was that gentle?”

I touched his lips with my fingers. “No, it was most definitely not gentle, and have decided that perhaps I don’t like nice men as much as I thought.”

He looked a little puzzled at my words, then smiled. “So, bad is good?”

“Yes, Bad is very, very good.” We both laughed, and he took me in arms. I fell asleep with his arms holding me. I slept only briefly before I felt him stir beside me. “What? Are you leaving?”

He started dressing. “I have to go.”

“But, I…”

“I will see you again.”

“No, that isn’t what I meant, but… of course I want to see you again, but wait just a minute. I lied to you before. I…”

“Lied to me? About what?” I could see the anger rising in his face.

“No, no, no, please wait, let me finish.” I stammered. He didn’t say anything, so I continued. “I lied about my husband, I mean the reason why I left, why I didn’t take the money. I felt guilty.”

His face softened a little. “Why, because you wanted him dead? I don’t think you should feel guilty for that.”

“It isn’t that. No, I… well, I was… the one who hired you to kill him…”

He sat on the edge of the bed. "You hired me? That is why you ran?" He took my hands in his. "I am sorry I have to leave you now-- I will come back, if you want me to."

“Please… yes. I want you to come back. I guess you have to go kill somebody. No don’t answer, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to think about what you do. Please, just don’t get killed. I want you to come back.”

He smiled that arrogant smile. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I won’t be killed. I am going to be the best. Number One. The best in the world.”

He kissed me once, then again. Then he stood up and finished dressing. I watched him without saying anything. He picked up his gun, and tucked it into his pants, then leaned over me for a final kiss. He whispered, “I will come back.” Then he turned and walked out. I heard the door close as he left my apartment. I fell back onto the mattress, and wondered if I would ever see him again.

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