Assassin

"Do we kill her?" The air was so muggy the mobile phone stuck to his ear.

"The boss has not spoken, but I imagined so."

"Do we get to do her before killing her?"

"Isn't that the standard operating procedure?"

"I don't know. These days, with our new clients, you never know."

"I believe our client wants her dead."

"I agree. But didn't you tell me the client hates her so much he wants her to suffer first."

"What I told you was that he wants her to be humiliated. Make sure you have a camera so you can send it to the client. Perhaps he will pay extra for the footage."

"Okay. I will send someone to order one from Amazon. It should be here tomorrow."

"Don't you have a webcam set up?"

"Yes, I do. But the resolution sucks. A high definition picture is worth more to the client, don't you think?"

"One thing is important. Make sure your men don't touch her until we've been given further instructions."

"Will do."

"And switch on the webcam so I can monitor it stateside."

When he hung up, Jose hurriedly returned to the basement.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jose yelled.

"We are playing cards. Is that a crime?" More than one man replied.

"I am not talking to you guys, I am talking to that motherfucker." Jose pointed his index finger at the man on the bed.

The man with his fingers inside her hung down his head, avoiding eye contact. "What are you waiting for? Get the fuck out of here." Jose's face got red when he was mad.

When the disgraced man had left the room, Jose announced to the group, "Tell him not to work here anymore. If I see him again, I swear I'll put a bullet in his brain. Now clean her up, set up the webcam, and someone go order a high definition camera online."

The men placed the cards face down and jumped into action.

>>>>>

Many years ago - How she started

She checked her makeup in the rear mirror, wondering if she was sane. But this was the only way to resolve the problem without violence.

She crossed the parking lot and marched to the neon lit entrance. The bouncer took one long look at her and waved her into the adult's only club. It must be how she dressed. She was wearing a white halter top that ended an inch above her navel, cheap perfume that anyone could smell from a mile away, and a black leather micro skirt that provided adequate cover only when she was standing still.

The bouncer visually followed her as she sashayed past. Even in the dim light, he could see the muscles on her bare shoulders, arms, thighs, and back. There were hundreds of fitness centers in Las Vegas, but he wondered which one she used for her workouts. Perhaps he could ask later on her way out.

She headed straight to the bar.

"Honey, how can I help you?" The bald bartender wore a Harley Davidson sleeveless shirt.

"Tell your boss to release my father. I am here now." With her five-inch stilettos, she stood eyeball to eyeball with the bartender, who was six two.

"Anything to drink while I make a phone call? It's on the house."

"No thanks." She sat on the high stool, crossed her legs, and adjusted her skirt. Harley had a glimpse of her tanned cleavage and concluded she was not wearing a bra. He stuck his right hand in his pocket and made his own adjustments.

Harley lumbered away from the counter and made the call. Even though he lowered his voice, she could hear him use the word whore. She had no doubt whom he was referring to.

"Honey, it's this way." She let Harley rest his palm on her bare back and guide her to the swinging doors at the far end. The small office behind the doors led to a dozen narrow but steep steps that went down to the basement. She had to turn her heels sideways to climb down.

Harley knocked on the door using Morse code, spelling out the word F-U-C-K. After a few seconds, he fished out a key and unlocked the door. When the door opened to the smoke filled room, she saw her father tied to a chair, his head down, too ashamed to look at her. Two men looked up from opposite sides of a pool table. At first, they were irritated at the interruption. But the twisted eyebrows slowly turned to crooked smiles as soon as they saw her.

"No shit. I did not know this loser had such a hot daughter. Backed by such valuable collateral, we would have given him a lot more money to feed his gambling addiction." Tony announced to the man holding the cue.

"The deal is I show up and you let my father go. I understand you are a man of your word." She faced the man who spoke, assuming he was the leader.

"Baby, that is correct. A promise from Tony G is something you can take to the bank."

Tony nodded to the man across the pool table. The man produced a switchblade and cut away her father's ropes.

"Dad, take my car keys and drive away." As Megan hugged her father, she whispered the name of the motel, placing the keys into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Alright, break it up." Harley pushed Megan away from her father.

"Did you search her before you brought her down here?" Tony poked his index finger on Harley's chest.

"Look at her. There's no room for this bitch to hide any weapons." Harley completed his sentence before he realized he had forgotten who he was talking to.

Tony punched Harley squarely on the nose before he could continue. "You idiot, she could be wearing a wire."

Harley realized he had crossed the line. Talking back to the boss in front of his subordinate was a very dangerous thing. He went down on his knees, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

"Take this gambler upstairs and let him go. As for you, go home and think about what you have done. I will deal with you later." Harley left the basement with his bleeding nose and the gambler. He left the room and locked the door from the outside.

Only two men were left in the room. Although she was a black belt in taekwondo and could defeat a man three times her size and twice her age, two against one was not a good equation. Besides, the room was locked. She had to be patient and play along.

Tony turned to the man with the switchblade. "Search her." She was taken to the far wall, her hands above her head and against the wall, her legs kicked apart. Switchblade took way longer than necessary, feeling her up. He went under her skirt and pulled down her black thong panties. When the panties were wrapped around her knees, his knife slashed through and sliced the flimsy fabric into two unequal parts, letting them fall to the floor. "She's clean," he held her hair and turned her around to face Tony.

"Do you know how much your father owed us?" Tony took a chair and turned it backwards so he was straddling it, leaning his elbows on the chair's back.

"Of course. I would not be here without all the facts." Her voice was suddenly low and husky, even sensual, in contrast to the contents of her words.

"$20,000 is a large sum of money," he puffed out the words as he exhaled through the nose. "But a sweet young thing like you could pull in a lot each night."

"What if I offer you the chance to double down?"

"What do you mean?"

"I will owe you $40,000 if I lose, but we're debt free if I win."

"Young lady, that sounds like a fair deal. But how would you pay off $40,000?"

"Like you said, a hot body like me could bring in a lot."

"That was not exactly what I said, but close enough. Still, even for a hot number like you, it takes a lot of lap dances to cover $40,000."

"I'm not talking about lap dances." Megan swayed her hips from side to side as she approached Tony. His bodyguard moved between Tony and Megan. But Tony raised his hand to signal that it was okay.

She moved right up and crossed her fingers behind his neck. Her cheap perfume filled his nostrils, and he liked it. Her hot breath whispered in his ears, "How much are you willing to pay for one night with me?"

"Let me check the merchandize," Tony traced his index finger down her neck, collar bone, cleavage.

She pushed it gently away. "That's enough sampling. How much?"

"What do you think?" Tony looked at Switchblade.

"Boss, do you want an honest quotation of the market rate?"

"That's a great way to put it. Yes." Tony said.

"I would say about $2,000." Switchblade pressed his fingers to his temple, attempting a serious quote.

"What about with both of you?" she asked.

"You mean like a threesome?

"Yep."

"Based on my understanding of the current market, about $3,000 for one 8-hour night."

"What about for 24 hours? I think you guys are strong enough to handle an entire day."

"I would quote $5,000 to a customer."

She pressed her chest against Tony, sensing his throbbing heartbeat. "So I can pay off $40,000 in just eight nights?"

"Good math," Tony took over the conversation from Switchblade, "but no. You would have to give a volume discount when you increase the days. I would say one whole month for forty grand."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Wouldn't you say that is a fair number?" Tony asked Switchblade. Switchblade nodded.

Tony extended his right hand, "So, deal or no deal?"

"We have not talked about what we are gambling over." She reminded him.

"Two games, you pick one, I pick one. Win both and you win. Lady pick first." Tony said.

"Let's play eightball." She shook his hand. Unknown to Tony, she was a high school champion in pool.

"Head or tail?" Tony asked as he dug out a quarter.

"Tail. I love to give head, but you're not getting any tonight."

Tony and Switchblade laughed so loud the echoes off the walls of the small room made it sound evil. She rolled her eyes and followed the coin, which rolled to her side of the table.

"Stop laughing and show me what you have." She spoke over the laughter as Tony glided over to confirm that he had won the toss. He took the cue and quickly placed a shot.

The balls scattered, noisily knocking into each other as if they are drunk. It took a long time for the motion to stop. But none dropped. Her move.

She took a deep breath, exhaling through the gap on her two front upper teeth as she circled the table. She picked up a cube of chalk, slowly grinding it into the tip of the stick, considering her options. Both men sat down on high stools, puffing away. She waited for the smoke to clear the table before picking her shot.

She winked at Tony as she glided to the opposite side of the table. As she stood poised over the table, assessing the angles, gravity found her, tugging at her tight halter top and exposing the top semi-circle of her firm breasts. Her nipples pushed against the cotton, adrenalin coursing through her veins. She hoped they did not notice her own heartbeat pulsating on her neck.

She took her shot and stood up, her halter sliding back into place. The men heard a ball drop. It was the three ball. They did not see it as it happened because all four eyes were enjoying the sideways movement of her cleavage as the cue struck the cue ball.

"Good shot," Tony said as he stood up to check the pocket.

She nodded and smiled, acknowledging the compliment. The cue ball slowly moved to line up perfectly with the two ball. It was an easy shot. She took it quickly. This time, both men saw the blue ball drop into the pocket nearest to them. Tony remained standing. He was no longer smoking.

The cue ball bounced off the cushioned bank and settled near the eight ball, surrounded by the nine ball and the thirteen teen ball on the other two sides. Tony clapped his hands to celebrate. Switchblade put out his cigarette and joined in.

"Let's raise the stakes, shall we?" Tony moved to the short end of the table. Switchblade remained next to the high stools on the long side.

"Let's hear your proposal." Megan cupped a hand to her ear, placing the stick down and leaning it against the pool table.

"Each time we fail to drop a ball, we remove a piece of clothing."

"Like strip billiard?"

"Exactly. Do you dare to play?"

"Sure. How about each time we miss, we also drink a bottle of beer, in addition to stripping?"

"Even better. And to be fair, I will remove my shirt now because Switchblade has already removed your underwear."

"Do shoes count?"

"You are a damn good negotiator. You should definitely come work for me, no matter what happens tonight." Tony unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the same corner of the room as her panties. His chest was bare, without hair or tattoos. "We both have a pair of shoes. Let's count each pair as one article."

"So we start with three articles each?" She touched her top, skirt, and looked at her stilettos.

"That's fair. I have my Italian shoes, pants, and belt."

"Agreed."

Tony turned to Switchblade. "Get us a six pack of Shiners."

Switchblade was about to exit the room when Tony told him to just order the beer on his mobile. With Switchblade remaining in the room, it was still two to one for Megan.

The six Shiner Bock bottles were placed on the long edge of the pool table, near the high stools. Megan did a quick mental calculation. Four point four percent alcoholic content meant she would be legally drunk with just two beers. Getting pulled over for DWI was the least of her worries right now.

"Shall we continue?" She lifted her stick and circled the table, turning sideways and brushing against Tony as she passed him. She felt the hardness inside his jeans and smiled inside.

To have a chance, she had to lean far over the table at an odd angle, her right leg stretched over the edge. Four of her left fingers were planted an inch from the eightball, upright and rigid, pressing hard on the table to form an arc for the cue stick.

The men were behind her, glued to the hem of her skirt, which had hiked up. Her fingers were shaking as she took the shot. Nobody was breathing when the cue struck the white ball. The one ball moved like a rocket into the corner pocket. But she had hit the cue ball too hard. The white ball inched lazily in the same direction, taking its time to roll along the same path. Tony was already twisting the beer's cap when it dropped into the same pocket.

She stepped out of her stilettos and accepted the bottle. Gathering her dark blonde hair behind her, she closed her eyes and downed the entire bottle, not stopping to breathe. Wiping her lips with her hands, she said, "Let's continue."

Both men clapped their hands as if they were watching an Olympic competition. Tony picked up his stick as Switchblade took the empty bottle from her and set it down on the short edge of the table.

No longer underestimating her, Tony pocketed four striped balls in quick succession. But he missed the next one. The cue ball was still moving when Tony stepped out of his shoes. Walking on bare feet, he collected his Shiner, held its neck against the table's edge, and snapped at the cap with his fist.

She stood up from the high stool and adjusted her skirt, pulling it down as far as it could go. When Tony had finished his drink, she circled the table twice, clockwise first and then the other way. It was not difficult to figure out what to do. She was simply buying time. It was a long shot from corner to corner.

As she set up the shot, she was aware that Tony was watching from the opposite corner, his palms together, as if praying that she would miss. Switchblade remained seated, rubbing his chin with one hand, the other still holding the switchblade.

"Sweetheart, what are we waiting for?" Tony asked. "Why don't you just give it up and removed your top. Perhaps you can win by playing topless and distracting me." Switchblade laughed, but not Tony. Instead, Tony narrowed his eyes at her.

She ignored the trash talk, spreading her bare feet, pointing the toes at right angles to each other. Her upper body was twisted sideways, her left breast pressed against the edge of the pocket, the stick sliding against the right breast. Gravity had pulled her halter to the left, exposing her left nipple. She closed one eye and took the shot.

The seven ball wobbled when it was struck by the cue ball, spinning and rotating slowly until it dropped. She stood up and shrugged her shoulders, her top whispering back into position. She had set up the cue ball so the rest of the game was easy. Tony did not get another chance.

As she dropped the eight ball, she asked, "Tony, what's the next game?"

"The next game is between you and him." Tony pointed at Switchblade, who was surprised and stood up.

She placed the stick on the table and stood next to Switchblade, her arms folded. "What do we do?" She squeezed her chest together, her hips cocked and knees slight bent, ready for action.

Tony pointed at the four beers. "Why waste the beer? Each of you should finish two of them and then proceed to darts." Tony opened two bottles for her, leaving Switchblade to open his own. She finished hers and was pulling out the darts by the time Switchblade finished his second bottle.

"Can I go first?" She closed her left eye and aligned a dart to the bull's eye.

"Hang on, put on your stilettos so it's fair." Tony pointed one finger at her and another finger at Switchblade. "After all, he is also wearing his shoes."

Megan stumbled a little as she slid into the five inch heels. It was absolutely unfair. She had three bottles of alcohol and Switchblade had only two, not counting that she was a smaller package. Still, she was confident of winning darts as well.

"Go ahead, honey." Tony announced.

The dart board was positioned slightly lower than her with heels. She readjusted her footing, holding one dart in her right hand and the other two with her left. Holding her breath, she threw all three within a few seconds. All three darts landed inside the bull's eye. She exhaled and returned to the stand next to the pool table, next to Tony.

Switchblade pulled out the darts and took his position. The first two darts were inside the bull's eye. But he put too much force into the third, which bounced off the dart board.

"Give me the key so I can leave." She opened her palm in front of Tony.

"Sure," Tony signaled to Switchblade, who circled back to the table and stood behind her. She was sandwiched and trapped. "Here is the key," Tony held it between his thumb and index finger. "How about a lap dance before you go? You are perfectly dressed for the occasion."

She took half a step back and encountered Switchblades hands on her bare shoulders.

"Either take off your own clothes or he will do it for you." Tony reached inside her top and fondled her as if he was squeezing lemon on a salmon.

"Okay, okay." She reached behind her neck and started to untangle the knot holding up her halter. Both men made the mistake of relaxing their grip.

In a blur of motion, she elbowed Switchblade, spun around, kicked his balls, and smashed an empty bottle on his head. Tony grabbed his cell phone and called someone upstairs. It gave her time to stab Switchblade with the jagged edge of the bottle, leaving the glass fragment inside his neck. She took the switchblade from the pocket of the unconscious man.

When the locked door was opened and two men appeared, she had the cold sharp blade on Tony's throat.

"Order your men to let me go or I cut your neck." She pressed the sharp point on the soft flesh below his trembling chin.

"Do as she says. Back up." Tony's voice had traveled up one octave.

She had the knife on his neck and used him as a hostage. His men had drawn guns but did not try anything. As ordered, they stayed in the bar as she took him to his car. She sat behind Tony when he drove until they were on a deserted road dirt road, a hundred miles out of the city.

"Leave the keys in the ignition and get out." She ordered in the dark desert. "Take out your pants and pee at the cactus." He obeyed.

She turned the car around and threw out his cell phone. "Go get help." She did not want him to die in the desert when the sun came up the next day.