I tip my chin to Alexander as he lets me out half an hour latter, a vanilla folder tucked safely underneath my arm, I know the contents hold three pieces of paper, the only paper trail that will soon be cooking in a fire place once I'm done. I have till midnight for this hit to be taken care of. More then enough time. The pay for this hit is amazing, must be some rival for Pablo who disrespected or threated him. I shrug to myself not caring. the elevator holds three other bodies without faces when I step in, two women and a short scrawny man. I keep my head down, taking my dark sunglasses out the pocket of my coat, tilting my head away from them. the less people who see and remember my face coming and going from the office the better.
The day has taken a pleasant degree, I can feel the start of spring teasing the back of my neck as I stalk to my car, speeding out of the parking garage and onto the busy Saturday morning traffic. aiming out of downtown Houston, I ease back, relaxing, no longer in a rush. Slinging my jacket into the other seat, blaring the music almost obnoxiously with the windows rolled down, I don't think about the task ahead, just let my mind go blank as I drive to the house. The forty minute drive passes by easily, pulling into the brand new uptown neighborhoods. Filled with upper-class families, not yet rich, but money to spare. The grand two stories houses with perfectly trimmed oak trees and rose gardens, along with perfectly trimmed children riding mopeds and bikes to and from other houses, porches filled with lazy parents swinging aimissly on porch swings, sipping their late morning coffee, waving to the other houses. I grimace, feeling the familiar string in my chest, almost envy. Almost.
Parking on the side of the street in front of a nice red break two story house with barn looking white shutters and door, even a freaking welcome mat laying in front of the door, the two car drive way filled with two black SUV, plain, meant to not draw attention, unlike my baby who I will not be taking on the hit. I don't bother to ring the doorbell, walking in to the I knew would be unlike door. I hear them before I see them. My eyes doing a quick sweep of the room. A dinning table to my left, stairs straight ahead leading to the second story, I can see the bar to the kitchen down the short hall, the TV blaring in the living room to the right of the kitchen. Everything so open and bright. but I don't see them.
Setting my keys in the glass bowl next to the front door, kicking my shoes off and tossing them next to the pile of their shoes, slowly I tiptoe down the hall. Peaking around the corner, I see their heads, one fair and one a light brown, both staring intently to the show blaring threw the surround-sound. Walking like a ghost I stand behind the couch, crouching low so my face rests between theirs. Taking in a silent breath I let its out in a loud scream. They jump out of the pants screaming in their high pitch screams. "Jace!" Chase scolds, throwing a pillow at my face, dogging I grab Katarina. She giggles as I tickle her variously.
"No more! no more!" She howls, grabbing at my neck as if to choke me. Laughter bubbles out of my mouth as I set her down. "No more Bubba!" She screams as I move to tickle her again. I smile fondly at her use of her odd nickname for me.
"Okay! Okay!" I yell as they attack, jumping on my back, Chase grabbing at my ankles. I go down easily, Kat tickling my neck and stomach, not ticklish I fake a high pitch giggle like hers, she goes down in hysterical.
"What are you three doing!" Their mother Olivia scolds softly, a beautiful smile spreading easily on her lips, Kat is going to inherent her mothers beauty hands down. they already look so similar, with long fair hair that lays straight and shinny over they naturally tan skin, both with big wide heavily lashes pool blue eyes, rosebud mouths spreading over wide grins, easy to smile and breath taking. Chase got his fathers light brown hair and dark brown eyes, big with curly eye lashes that almost look feminine, his sharp cheek bones under his mothers tan skin like Kat, but his mouth is always set in a hesitate smile, always analyzing something. Nice wit for a twelve year old. I pick up Kat, small and light for an eight year old, turning to face her mother all curves, even after three kids she looked like a God damn Victoria Secrets model.
