Licensed Murder

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Hey! I'd just like to thank you for reading my story! I know this chapter is a bit complicated, but it will make sense soon... I  hope :P Please comment and vote if your heart so desires :)

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Let me just say, faking your death isn’t easy. Thanks to my handy ‘license to kill’; this comes as a complimentary service.  On your list of requirements includes; 1 bogus doctor, 1 bogus witness, 1 legit person to write the death certificate, bogus lawyers and prosecutors and judges for the inquiry into your death. Oh and yourself playing the lead role of course, the casualty. Mistakes dictate your life and death in this field of work, and allowing the enemy to know you’re dead is one of them. I’m dead, no seriously. If mafia-boy doesn’t end up killing me, Thames will.

Thames was literally my partner in crime. I can’t remember the number of PDA (Public Displays of Affection)’s we’ve shared, but don’t misunderstand me. It was purely work, no feelings involved. Thames often compared kissing me to the likes of a brick wall. Great, what a boost up the old self-esteem…

My heels tapped as I made my way towards the hotel. If I was going to fix this, I had to fix it right. Mafia-boy currently resided on the fourth floor of the StreetView Hotel, New york, room number 452. Not too long ago, I was there; hiding in the bathroom.

***

A small voice spoke, “Target has entered the compound”

My neck rotated left to right. ‘Tall, dark hair, black jeans, grey hoodie, slight stubble, scar running down right arm’…hmmm. My eyes locked on a figure standing at the bar with his back to me.

 “Target initiated” I bent my head slightly as I whispered into the micro-phone placed in an inconvenient location a little south of base of my neck.

I made my way across the hotel bar floor, careful to maintain the slightly drunken look I was aiming for. I reached out and smacked the figure hard with my hand on his back.

“ ’aven’t seen yous ‘ere before?” I slurred, pretending to lose my balance, then using the male to keep upright.

“I can’t say the same” he replied smoothly despite the row of empty shot glasses in front of him. “You’re the chick that stacked it on the dance floor, right?”

Freaking mafia men never miss a thing.

“Hahahahahaha…gosh you’re goood…” I slurred, winking at him. Time for action.

Suddenly, I let my limbs loose and collapsed on the ground. My legs missed the stools, but I can’t say the same for my face. I felt the blood slowly trickle like a small stream down my face and in under my closed eyelids.

“Ah” I heard the figure mutter before my light body was up off the floor and into strong, muscular arms.

Yes, this is good. Everything is working according to plan.

The swaying motion stopped as the figure came to a halt. The sound of a creaking door notified me that we were entering room number 452. It was now or never. The man walked in and placed me on the sofa on the end of the bed. Showtime.

“Mmmm,” I groaned, pretending to wake up. “Can you give me some privacy? I’ll change and be out of here in no time.” Shit, the slurr.

My arms opened wide in a yawn. “Pleeeease? I think imma throw up, you know…like BLEGH” With that, I doubled over and stuck my finger down my throat swiftly. Bile rose as I began puffing out my mouth.

“Ugh,” he looked disgusted. Rightly so. “Um, I’ll go down to the bar for a while. You can use the bathroom, it’s the third door on the left.”

As he swiftly paced out of the room, I sat there astonished. I wasn’t banking on him being nice, I was prepared to let my semi-digested food splatter across his face. No, I need to concentrate. I stood up quickly and locked the door. I cracked my knuckles as I surveyed the room.

Clothes lay in a pile near a cupboard, but apart from that everything was fairly tidy. Standard hotel stuff were placed in various positions around the room; a robe hung from the door, fluffy slippers on the floor near the bed and towels in the bathroom. Then I began looking.

I literally turned the whole place upside down. The doors of the cupboards, draws and every other entrance to a hiding place flew open. All my limbs worked together, rummaging through every nook and cranny.  One document. That’s all I need. Pfft, easier said than done.

***

As I entered the lobby, I turned around and walked out. No, this wasn’t right. I had no plan. True, I had a gun, but no plan. I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes. This won’t do, Iris. I’ve got to be the better man…woman. If I truly want to do this right, then I have to go straight into the lion’s den. I opened eyes slowly. The slight crisp air of an early morning nipped at my face. I have to tell Thames.

It took me 20 minutes in my black Jag to get to HQ. I parked on the verge and entered the dark alley. Hmf, how cliché. HQ was underground and lay situated smack bang in the middle of a network of systematic underground tunnels. As I walked down the alley in silence, I counted the number of doors I passed. If you entered the first three doors to the left, you would find yourself immersed in the essence of cheese. Yup, we just had to buy the place behind the freaking cheese factory. As I closed in on the fourth door, I heard a muffled cry come out from the other side. The door suddenly swung open as two figures came sprinting out. The tall one spotted me and did the fastest 180 I had ever seen. Haha, ballerina boy. Must be assassin rejects. Happens far too often for me to be worried any more. But my smile faded ran towards me and pointed his black pistol at my temple.

“Police, don’t move” he yelled, slightly out of breath.

Shit, what has Thames done this time.