Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Who is it?

        The life of an assassin isn’t easy. I’m always on the run After a while, all the hotel rooms look alike—ground floor, cheerless modern.
        When my latest assignment came in an encrypted email message, I slumped down in the chair. Ricardo Perez, the Mexican gang lord, had resurfaced in Cancun.
        I was sad to see that he still existed. We’d crossed paths before. Why didn’t he stay dead?
        Someone knocked at the door, and I closed the laptop. “Who is it?”
        “Room service.” The accent was Spanish.
        “Adios, amigo.” I grabbed my gun and jumped out the window.

No comments:

Post a Comment