Super Bad (Completed 2013)

‡ Chapter 3 ‡

He nodded.  “So who’s the chicken?”

“Your dinner, sir.”

A grin crawled up his mouth.  “Wonderful.”  I lifted my head, and saw him staring.  A sharp scar ran across his left brow, danger flashing off of him like sirens.  His bottom lip had a cut, making the puckers beat red like he was back from a workout. 

He gave another once over.   “Jessie Daniels, hm?”

An awkward feeling settled among the air as my name bounced off the walls, his crispy voice nearly making me jump out of my skin. 

I sensed his stern gaze rake from my toes to my head.  “This is Brian’s daughter?”

The mention of my father broke my gaze. 

“Yes, sir,” his friend answered, his eyes trained on mine as well. 

Remaining mute, the black suited man stroked his find six o’clock shadow along his chin.  “Are you scared, Jessie?”  

I straightened my back.  Authority rang in his tone, and I noted if I wasn’t tough, my chances of living were in the deep pits.  “It depends.  Are you going to beat me?”

He chuckled.  Different from Romane, but still held that pinch of smug amusement.  “Nono.  Of course not.  I don’t believe in beating.”  He casually shoved his hands down his pockets.  “If the person deserves pain, they mind as well die instantly.  Besides, like Adam Sandler says, 'I don’t even believe in beating my little cousins.  I make them wear a Justin Bieber shirt and Crocs to school so the other kids will do it for me.'”

I curled a coy smile, but killed it instantly.  “I’m glad I make you want to share your childhood memories.  Do tell, did your parents make you have the Bieber cut too?”

His friend stifled a laugh while the suited man glared at him.  “Sorry, it’s just that”—his friend waved over his hair—“the image of you wearing a Bieber shirt, purple Crocs, and the Bieber cut is hilarious.” 

“Ha-Ha.”  He gave a fake laugh, and then lashed out a gun from his jacket, shooting right between my feet. 

I caught a scream on the brink of my throat, and only flinched.  I smelt the burning bullet melt under my nose, struggling to suppress a shriek. 

“Now, Daniels.” The man carelessly swung his arm as he spoke.  He lifted my chin with the barrel, meeting us at an eye level.  “You might not think I’m as dangerous as Romane.  Believe me, I can be more ruthless than that scum bastard.  My gang saved your life.”  He raised the barrel, cranking my neck back more.  “You owe me.” 

A discreet shiver crumbled down my spine as the word ‘owe me’ slithered off his tongue. 

He pressed the barrel to my bare throat.  I hitched a gulp, the cold weapon sending my body temperature into shock. 

“Romane might be your greatest nightmare.  He might rule the lands of North America.  But darling, you’re not in North America anymore.  You’re in Asia.  In a facility full of highly skilled assassins, filthy killers, brilliant seducers, clever drug lords, experienced liars, heartless players, who are all on the other side of that door.” 

He slowly crawled the barrel of the gun up my throat.  “And they work for me.  They listen to me. They know if they want to survive, they do what I say and get what I want.  You’ve entered Snipers territory now, darling.”  The barrel reached my chin and plunged its way into my mouth. 

My eyes popped, and I nearly gagged at the bitter steel taste.  He leaned in if even closer, his forehead brushing against mine.  “I am the leader of the Snipers,” he whispered.  “A gang made up of the world’s most wanted, most dangerous fugitives.  And you, darling, have something Romane and I have been fighting over for a very long time.”