The sound that woke me up was someone trying to break down my door.

  I rolled off the bed gun ready. I had the safety off and gun out before I hit the floor. Lucky for me the man crashing through my door hadn’t noticed I was off the bed. The coughs of a small caliber gun with a silencer seemed ridiculous, considering the idiot had come crashing through my door with enough noise to wake the dead.

  Suppressed small caliber guns are for close up surprise hits. This was as far from a surprise as you could get. The sloppy way the hitman went about his work, probably meant he wasn’t up to picking locks. Most likely another amateur.

  Rule number one, if you have lost the element of surprise you are depending on; fall back and regroup. Or bring overwhelming force. Otherwise, chances are that you're fucked!

  I fired at the feet rolling away from the corner so I wouldn’t be trapped. I really didn’t want to kill anyone. Even though dead men tell no tales and all that, it’s just about impossible to kill someone in an old apartment building like this and get rid of the corpse before the cops show up. Too many nosy neighbors.

  The high pitch scream told me I had hit him. And my gun was a 9 millimeter

  “Aw shit! Shit! You shot away my toe!” The man continued to moan and cursed as I rose carefully from the side of the bed. I recognized that voice. I would have recognized it anywhere.

  Not an amatuer, but an idiot: My old partner, John Goosan. And he was trying to kill me. Again.

  My heart was beating like crazy from all the adrenaline and from anger. Oh, how I would love to kill him, but he was way too big to get rid of. If he had come at me in an alley, that would have been a different thing. But I probably wouldn’t have killed him anyway.

  I’m not good at killing. Not in cold blood, but I am damn good at defending myself. Now if I could have wrapped my morals around that and shot the idiot in the head that would have been good, but I couldn’t.

  “I don’t understand why you keep trying, Johnny boy,“ I said in a bored voice. I was really angry, but I would rather die than to admit it to John. “Tell Mikey that you aren’t up to this. He has better guys to send after me, like Frederick or Smiley.”

  I turned on the light. John had dropped his gun and lay clutching his right foot. His eyes were full of hate, but it was a sullen kind of hate. The kind of hate that was caused by fear. The idiot had actually dropped the gun, probably thinking I wouldn’t kill him without a gun in his hand. Frigging amateur.

  But he was spot on. This time.

  It was a good thing that the bullet only caught the toe. You can limp away without one toe, but it is harder to walk away with a hole in the foot. I seriously considered doing him in anyway. I was getting tired of sending him back to Mike only to have him trying to kill me again after a couple of months.

  John Goosan was big, mean, and strong, but he would never take me down, unless he really surprised me. He hadn’t the brains for it. Or the skill for that matter. Oh, he could take more damage than I could, but he wasn’t fast enough or skilled enough – even in hand-to-hand – and when it came to strength I was almost as strong. I was a freak of nature in many ways, and strength was one of them.

  Sure, he might get lucky one of these days, but he was out of his league and he knew it. He had tried once to scare me when sparring. He thought I would be an easy take down because I was a woman. Oh, boy was he wrong. I had reacted on reflex and dropped him so hard he spent two days in the hospital. John had hated me for that, and for being a girl. But when Mike put me in charge and not him it had really made him angry. For John, everything was personal.

  So, here was John doing his best to kill me, and it only annoyed me. Figures. I guess nearing the big three zero must be making me more zen with this shitty life.

  John was simple in many ways. He was petty, cruel, and a prime example of The Dunning-Kruger Effect.He believed killing me would make all his fears go away. He was an ass. And an idiot.

  “I’ll get you sooner or later!” John grounded his teeth.

  I laughed. John ranked like a third-rate security guard, at best. He worked as a bodyguard, but his skills were non-existent as far as real bodyguard work goes. All he was good for was looking mean. That, on the other hand, he excelled at.

  At six foot seven and big in every way, but the brain department, he looked like a demented Hulk Hogan. He was as blond as his IQ suggested. On top of that, he was also a sadist which all added up to the perfect goon. And that was what Mike Sunderland used him for – stupid things like trying to kill me. Not that Mike was really seriously trying to kill me: If he was he wouldn’t have sent John. Mike probably wanted me to kill John, so that he had something to blackmail me with.

  One of these day he would stop sending John and send some real pros and then all hell would break loose. My gut was telling me that day wasn’t far away. As far as John was concerned, I guess I should have ended his misery a long time ago, but I wasn’t about to cross the line between self-defense and murder. Not for John. And definitely not for Mike.

  “You couldn’t get me if I was tied down, John. You’re a stupid git, nothing else.” I crouched down next to him and looked him in the eyes, trying to make my gaze convey something he wouldn’t take my word for. “If you ever come after me again, I’ll kill you. You can tell Mikey that if he sends someone else after me again, I’ll come after him!” My cold voice made John flinch. I saw the fear in his eyes, but I also knew that after a couple of weeks he would convince himself that he wasn’t afraid and then Mikey would send him after me again.

  I also knew I would have to kill him the next time. I had said would dot it, and I would. The problem was that John didn’t believe me, since he had tried four times before and I hadn’t killed him yet. This couldn’t go on forever unless something stopped him. And the police was not an alternative. You did not do that with these people.

  The ruined door and the new bullet holes in the floor would get me thrown out. I groaned inwardly. Trying to find another apartment in Chicago, that wasn’t a rat hole and that didn’t cost a fortune wasn’t going to be easy. That made me a little grumpy, so I smacked John on side of the head with the butt of my Beretta. It would hurt, but not really injure him. I would prefer to have him out of here when the police arrived.

  “So how did you find me this time, John?” I smacked him on the head again. It was amazing how good that felt. I smacked him again just for measure. “Give, John!”

  John ducked his head as much as he could lying down on the floor holding his foot. “Go fuck yourself!”

  John never had much of an imagination. “John, I’ll keep you here until the cops come, unless you answer my question.” He really needed me to spell it out for him.

  “Blind luck.” John muttered.

  I smacked him over the head again. Harder this time.

  “Ouch,” John cried. “Stop it!”

  “Then give, stupid!” I raised my hand again.

  “Okay!” John twitched. “The other attempt. By the freelancer. Your address was in the police report.”Johns shook his head. “I can’t believe you stayed put. You should have left.”

  “Trust the idiot to do the right thing,” I muttered to myself in disgust.

  “So who’s the leak, John. I need a name here.”

  John was sulking. “Don’t know,” he muttered.

  “You probably don’t. Who’s turf is this, John? I don’t mean the mob now, ‘cause I know who does the midnight runs up here. I mean who run the top outside hitters in Chicago?” I hadn’t bothered to find out, since it wasn’t my game. I don’t do contract killings. Ever!

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  John turned white. Not the reaction I expected. Usually Mike Sunderland’s boys had no problem operating outside Phoenix and most gave way for Mike, but seeing his expression, whoever was running the show up here was a major bad-ass. Capital B. Mike is one of the biggest guys playing, so his men don’t have to worry too much about others interfering. John’s reaction spoke volumes.

  John wouldn’t shit himself for a normal player, because Mike Sunderland was a bigger than that. Mike Sunderland was kind that some respect even from Capos and Vors. So the man up here was at least in the same league.

  John swallowed. “I can’t, Maria. I just can’t.” His voice shook and his eyes showed fear. “It don’ matter what you do, Maria, nothing you can do can even come close too what these guys can do to you.” His whole body twitched as he remembered something. This was real fear. The good old primitive shit-in-my-pants-and-not-too-scared-to-admit-it fear.

  “Okay.” I shrugged. I didn’t have the time to make him talk and I sure as hell wouldn’t do it in my own apartment. “So why aren’t these guys after me now? From the freelancer I guess that there’s an official contract out on me now?”

  “They want more money. Twenty-five isn’t enough for them. It’s good enough for some, but not this crew.” John looked at me and I couldn’t really read that look. “This crew has never failed, Maria. Never. Not once in fifteen years. What does that tell you?”

  I sighed. “Either that they are only doing simple contract work or they’re very, very good. Probably the last, since you’re so scared of them. So you can’t give me a name on who’s running this crew. And that means you can’t give me a location or a way to contact them either. But you can tell me if anyone else from Dragon is here.”

  John clenched his teeth. “I came alone.”

  I hit him at the base of his nose with the butt of my gun. Seeing his eyes watering gave me immense pleasure. “Try again, John. Mikey usually don’t let you out alone. Not since you got arrested for wrecking that car dealer.”

  “I. Came. Alone.” John was gnawing again. I only had to raise my hand again. ”Okay. Terrence came along, but not as backup. Strictly surveillance and recon. He’s new.”

  “Mikey sent a rookie with you? Is he mad or does he want Terrence dead?” I laughed out loud.

  “Fuck you!” John was getting angry.

  I hit him again, but this time just below the ear. There were tears in his eyes again. Oh, it felt good. “Watch it, dumb ass! Or you might loose something more vital than your toe. Is he listening?” I pressed my thumb into the soft flesh behind the ear.

  John nodded frantically.

  I grabbed John’s lapel. I knew the microphone would be there. “Listen up, Terrence. You walk away from here and never come back. I won’t give you a second warning, Terrence, so back off and you’ll live longer. And if you want to learn at all, you’d better learn from Frederick or Smiley, ‘cause John’s MO will get you killed.” I backed away from John carefully ripping the mike in the process. “You’re the only one who gets more than one warning, John. But this is the last one. No matter what you think, I will kill you if you come after me again.”

  John didn’t look at me. I guess there wasn’t much to say.

  I tore a strip of the bed sheet ad threw it at John. “Here. Tie it up and get the hell out of here!”

  I always try to keep a low profile, but I was using my own name, so I could be tracked, but it was better that the alternative. Not that Maria Smith was an uncommon name, there were 92 of us in the Chicago IL area. Maybe it was time use one of my aliases again or to leave the state? Or change my name for real?

  There were limits to how far I was willing to go just to keep out of Mike Sunderland’s way. If he only would stay in Phoenix and leave me the hell alone, but that would probably never happen. I knew too much, and Mike didn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut. Let us just say that Dragon Security Inc in Phoenix is one of the best hitter outfits in the world. Some members in various organized crime associations might be as good, but Mike had a bunch of them. The only reason Mike Sunderland hadn’t sent real pro after me was the he still thought I was bent and that he could convince me to return and work for him.

  I knew they were connected to mob when I started there. I mean how could I not? My fathers sometimes worked for the mob and was really connected, and they knew and had told me. But while I no problem with the more shady stuff of security work, I draw the line at murder. So he Mike wanted to have a hold on me, so that he could force me to do the dirty work.

  When pigs fly.

  I wasn’t really clean in the legal sense of the word, but I drew the line at killing for money. Well I really drew the line a bit further back than that. I did not do pure muscle work. I had some style.

  “You can crawl out before the police come and hope to god they don’t have your DNA profile somewhere. ‘Cause if they do, you’re toast. I’m not getting on my hands and knees to clean up your blood.” I emptied John’s gun before I handed it back. Then I pulled him off the floor and pushed him towards the stairs. “Don’t come after me again, John! Ever!”

  John stood at the top of the stairs and looked at me. His eyes almost glowed with anger. “He will send someone else after you now, “ John said in a low voice. “He won’t let this slide.”

  I kept my gun low, but I was ready if John went for his backup gun. He kept his backup gun at his lower back. He had a Colt 1911 A1 for backup, which is a bit large to have down your pants. But then he wasn’t known for his brainpower.

  I had both my hands on the gun. “Neither will I. You tell Mikey what I said. I don’t care what you do or who you off, but come after me again and I’ll kill you all!”

  John laughed. It was a good laugh. The kind that dressed up Santas at the mall had. Funny thing was that John thought it was a threatening laugh. “You’re not that good, Maria. You only had four months on the job.”

  I shook my head. “The job isn’t everything. I worked solo for years before that, you know that, John. And Mikey can’t have that kind of attention I can bring down on him. I’ve stayed ahead of you all, more or less anyway, for over four years, so I think I know the job better than you think, John. Don’t worry, just tell Mikey and he’ll figure it out for you. Ask him to call me on this number at ten pm when you talk to him.” I threw a card with only a phone number on. “Tell him he has ten minutes only. The number will never be used after this one call, so he can’t trace me with it.”

  John’s eyes changed and he tried to look indifferent. “I don’t know if I can reach him in time, perhaps…”

  “Don’t try thinking, Johnny boy, it doesn’t suit you. I won’t give you time to get a lot of backup here or get organized for a hunt. I know he can’t pull Frederick or any of the others for this, so forget it, John. Ten o’clock! You want me to write it down for you?”

  I watched John limp out of sight before going back into my apartment. I could have talked myself blue and John wouldn’t have understood. I had no image to live up to, and Mikey’s business had to look as innocent as a virgin at the prom. I could wreck that with a few phone calls.

  I wouldn’t make those calls. I wasn’t running major illegal operations on the side, but my previous clients would perhaps doubt my discretion if I ratted out Mike. I did have a reputation for discretion. If I lost that, it wouldn’t be healthy. If I did, I’d better join the witness protection program and relocate abroad. Neither would help for very long.

  The first year after I left Phoenix Mike had left me alone. But now there was no turning back. I probably had an open contract on me now. Or I would have very soon. Everyone who was connected and every freelancer would be gunning for me. The only one who could rescind it was Mike. Or his successor.

  Mike Sunderland had hired me after a thorough background check. Unfortunately he had misunderstood everything he found out about me. That was unfortunate for me. It took him four months to give me the first contract, and I flatly refused. Insultingly so, actually. And then I ran away.

  Okay, I didn’t say I was smart, but that was what I did. And I made myself a target in the process. It had been to late to fix the situation then. I should have gone to the Mob for mediation directly. Now, it wouldn’t work.

  When the amateur had come after me here in Chicago, some two weeks ago, I had told Bert the landlord that I had no idea why someone had redecorated the apartment with a shotgun. That wouldn’t wash a second time. He would have me out on the street before I could say “lawful eviction.” I looked at my door. It was all splinters now, and Bert the landlord would take that out of my deposit. Hell, he would keep my deposit.

  This was the sixth attempt on my life, if you count guns and knives, but only the second in Chicago. The amateur’s attempt here had been inspired, but not in a good way. He had come knocking at my door, asking me to help him with his car. I lived on the third floor. Not a well thought-out plan. I had almost been insulted by being targeted by an amateur. I believed that Mike Sunderland had better connections than that. And better sense. I wasn’t much happier about having John shooting at me. For all John’s experience with crime, killing, and muscle work, he didn’t rate more than a talented amateur. I was better, way better, than John, but the thing was – I had no real experience in killing. Not in cold blood.

  Then I heard a woman clear her throat behind me. When I turned around, Mrs Cheng was standing in the corridor.

  “Ah, sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs Cheng” I said carefully. She had snuck up on me without a sound, like she always did. I could never figure out how she did it. She was about seventy years old and she should have been making some noise. “I hope you weren’t alarmed or scared.”

  Mrs Cheng’s face was blank. “This is not finesse, Maria.” Her voice was raspy and low.

  “I know, Mrs Cheng. They were only sent to make a point, I think,” I said, feeling kind of embarrassed.

  “Then I hope you will find another place to live?” It was not a suggestion.

  “I will see to it directly, Mrs Cheng. I promise!” I ducked my head.

  “Good. I don’t like being disturbed.” And with that she turned and walked away without another word.

  She was one spooky lady. And finesse, my god, it was the only thing that mattered to her. Everything had better be up to a certain standard, or she blew a gasket. She was the one neighbor I was careful not to upset. One attendant had upset her and threatened her. All she had done was leaned over and whispered in his ear, smiled, and then walked back into her apartment. Two days later the guy hanged himself in the stairway. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I took no chances with that old lady. She gave me the creeps.

  I wasn’t afraid that my neighbors would talk to the police. In this building you kept to your own and left others to theirs. Even if guns were involved, or perhaps that should be, especially when guns were involved. Here, no one trusted the cops and no one would even think of getting involved. That could get you killed. Some neighborhoods were big on that kind of tradition.

  That didn’t mean that my neighbors weren’t nosy – they were. Nosy as hell. But, in this building at least, no one talked to the police.

  I took my time cleaning up John’s blood and hiding the real obvious proofs. It would take the cops some time to show up.