When she heard a rustling in the bushes, Krista thought nothing of it. She carried herself through life with a supreme confidence that few women had the luxury of feeling.
She
was the monster lurking in the shadows. People should be afraid of
her
.
She smiled at the delivery driver, who was clearly taken by her appearance, and stepped forward to run her finger along the touchscreen. She had no idea why they let you sign for packages this way, the signatures were never legible. The driver was obviously sizing her up. She was used to it.
"Is husband home right now?" he asked, with an accent she couldn't place.
"It's just little old me. Why, were you thinking of... coming inside?" she said.
The man was not attractive, but she never passed up an opportunity to keep her skills sharp. It's not like she was really going to let him touch her. The man didn't even seem to be able to look her in the eyes.
Another pathetic moron
. She had complete confidence that within five minutes flat, she could have this idiot on his knees begging to empty his wallet for the privilege of sniffing her farts through a walkie-talkie.
It came as quite a surprise, then, when then a second man appeared beside her. She turned and looked just in time to see sack being raised into the air over her.
"What the f-"
It was the last thing she managed to say before the driver shoved a cloth over her mouth. She gasped, which was a mistake, as the powerful smell of some drug assaulted her senses. She became lightheaded.
"Come on, hurry the fuck up, we don't have all day," said one of the voices.
* * *
"Is she still kicking, Mister Scott?" asked Murdoch. It was the first thing he'd said in fifteen minutes.
"No, I think she's finally calmed down," he replied.
Until this morning, he'd never met his partner. The boss always preferred it that way. Opsec had broken down about fifteen minutes into the job, when he'd accidentally used his real name to order a coffee. It beat the hell out of "Mr T", anyway. He didn't look anything like the guy! Scott wanted Reservoir Dogs code-names, but the boss said that was played out.
"What's her deal, anyway?" he asked.
Murdoch shrugged.
Scott looked down at the woman-shaped sack on the ground behind him. Underneath all that, he knew there was a prime piece of meat. The photo hadn't done her justice.
"Yeah but isn't it a little weird? The instructions bein' so specific, I mean."
He didn't respond.
"We were obviously gonna gag her anyway. But I mean we aren't even allowed to look at her once we grab her? We have to sit at two meters away from her? We can't remove the gag?"
"Job is job," he said in that odd European way. He was horrible at placing accents. He wondered where about he was from - Poland or Romania or something. But he knew what answer he'd get if he asked.
"What is he some kind of wacko jealous husband or something? Doesn't even want anyone looking at his property before she dies?"
Again, there was no response.
"Alright man, don't talk. See if I care."
After ten minutes of silence, he couldn't take it anymore. They hadn't even brought phones with them.
"Alright if you're not gonna talk, I'll talk to
her
instead."
He shuffled back and loomed over her body, holding onto the rail inside the van with one hand. The bag started moving a little.
"Client was very clear. No talk, no looking, especially in eyes. Stay away."
"Who's gonna know?"
No response.
"Alright, fucking fine, but find a place to pull over, I need a bathroom or a tree or something."
No response.
"Come on, pull over, I'm not joking. I have to go. Urine, piss, pee pee."
He could see his partner rolling his eyes in the rear view mirror. The car came to a halt next to a small clearing. He made sure she was still firmly tied, then opened the side of the van and hopped out. After he was done, he pulled out an alcohol wipe, cleaned up his hands and threw it away.
"I will take some time also," said the driver upon his return. "But longer. Shitting."
"Hey, take these," he said, throwing the container of wipes.
"Thank you," he said. It was the first time he'd thanked Scott for anything so far.
As he waited, he stared at their target. It was such an alluring shape. It'd been weeks since Scott had a shag. The client could suck his dick. Nobody was ever going to know. She started squirming as he lifted the sack.
She was just as hot as he remembered. She was all dolled up. He almost felt bad that they'd messed her hair up a bit, since she obviously spent so much time making it look good. They'd accidentally ripped her blouse when they were stuffing her in the van, and he could see the bright red lingerie she was wearing underneath.
This bitch was definitely planning to fuck somebody tonight.
He smiled.
Maybe she still will.
She faced up and looked at him.
I'll look her in the eyes if I want to, fucko
, he thought.
"Lady, I don't know who you are, but you are one hot fuckin' number. Are you one of them uh, insta models?"
She shook her head.
"Oh right, you're probably a little more upmarket. We grabbed you in a pretty rich neighbourhood. You're some sorta trophy wife or whatever. I got it."
She shook her head again.
"Well I don't wanna play charades all day. Let's just agree that you're a slut."
He pulled out his pocket knife and flicked it open. Her eyes went wide.
"Don't worry, we aren't gonna kill you just yet." He leaned in close and dropped his voice to a whisper. "We're supposed to dump you in the river much further downstream. Don't want any nosy swimmers finding it too quickly."
She looked completely petrified. He liked that.
All he'd have to do was make few cuts on the lower ropes. Just enough to give himself access. She fought to move away from him, but that was half the fun. He took a deep breath in and got a whiff of something - perfume maybe.
