The Perfect Shot

Chapter 5

My pink baseball bat was nowhere in sight. He was now using my kitchen knives as throwing stars.

If I had my camera, I would have been tempted to take a photo. I had seen far worse, but never in my own house.

I watched as the woman hesitated another shot. She tried to get a good look over the table.

Dexter Smith used the opportunity to jump from his hiding place, throwing a butter knife at her.

She tried to jump out of the way, but the knife lodged itself into her shoulder. She cried in pain. She gritted her teeth and aimed her gun at him. She didn't bother taking the knife out.

She may be trying to kill me, but that was badass.

The man was already behind the table again. Knives at the ready. Bullets rained down on the table.

"Hey, Asshole." I cried over top of the noise.

Both heads snapped in my direction. Surprised by the sound of my voice.

The woman screamed in rage. She swivelled around to face me, bringing her gun with her.

I locked eyes with Dexter. "Catch."

Just as I said the word, the gun was sailing out of my hands.

And for the millionth time that day, I thanked my grandma for not letting me skip softball practice.

The man jumped over the kitchen table. The same way a hockey player would jump over the bench. With ease and precision, ready to face the game to come. His mouth was in a set hard-line, eyes focused on the task at hand.

I couldn't watch to see if he caught it because the bullets were flying again. This time directed at me.

Bullets whizzed past my head, only inches from turning my brain into soup.

In fear, my feet slipped out from under me. I slid down the rest of the stairs on my ass. Bullets followed my path, embedding themselves in the walls and banisters behind me.

I had never been so happy to hear the sound of another gun.

She was so focused on hitting me, she didn't even notice Dexter as he pointed his weapon right at her.

He was cool and calm as he took aim and fired.

Her mouth formed an o as two bullets hit her in the abdomen. The force of the impact sent her backwards, crashing to the ground.

Her body laid limp in front of the back door.

I sat stunned at the bottom of the stairs. My brain trying to comprehend the wreckage in front of me. I couldn't help but stare at the blood-splattered walls.

I had never met an assassin in my life. Now I knew two. Both hired to kill me.

Honestly, I wasn't allowed to be surprised. I knew what I had gotten myself into and I would do it again.

Now I had a destroyed house. One dying assassin laying on the floor, blood flowing. Another hot assassin cleaning off his gun. And a missing pink baseball bat.

It sounded like the start of the worst joke ever.

Dexter Smith looked back at me. He didn't make a move to come closer. His face hiding any emotion he may have had.

But part of me knew he had no emotion.

Because he was, no doubt, a robot.

"Are you okay?" He asked coldly.