The Run

   This is very short I hope you find it fun please leave a like and comment if you enjoy. Have a great day!!!

     Warm sticky blood dripped off the point of the blade onto the tainted grass. The boy fell to his knees "why" came his gurgly question

"I'm sorry kid it's nothing personal, just business" Cleo grimaced as she wiped the blood off, on her black pants, reaching down to slip the knife into the side of her boot.

"John, John where are you" a deep rumbly voice came from inside the saloon. "Boy u better be in here working and not dilo dalling" it came again.

Cursing cleo flipped up her hood obscuring her features the best she could in the bright mid-afternoon sun. the boy flopped on the ground like a fish out of water opening his mouth to yell something but Cleo was there is an instant, gripping the barrel of her pistol bringing it swiftly down colliding with a thud and a loud yelp from John alerting the person inside."crap" it was time to go, she should have finished this job ten minutes ago.

Turning to the left side of the brick wall that surrounded her, she ran over to boxes and barrels that were stacked far enough up that she could leap over and escape. behind her, she could hear cursing and more callings of John, "hey, hey you what are you doin... J-John"

One look behind her and she could see a tall dark man with black curly hair to his ears. He wore a simple light brown baggy shirt paired with a vest and light brown pants. Kneeling over the dead boy, flipping his hair out of his eyes he looked up as Cleo flipped down the other side of the wall.

When Cleo's feet hit the ground she ran, running like her life was on the line. Well, it kinda was. From the sounds behind her she knew that he was following and catching up to her fast. Turning left into an alley trying to shake him off her tail, just a little further she could see the street bubbling with people she heaved in breath after breath her lungs and legs burnt like hell, just a little more.

Half turning she aimed the pistol at his chest her aim shifting with each step, he was roughly about 11 feet away with no sweat dripping down his face like hers. She could shoot but there was a huge chance that the people in the market would hear and make her chance of escape near to zero.

Two hundred more feet, she could almost hear separate conversations, she could do this. THUD! A large heavy body engulfed her smaller one. As their bodies hit the ground she heard a sickening crack as one of her pistol fingers snapped under their weight. Having no wind to curse at how painful it was grunting was just fine for this particular situation. A throbbing fire engulfed Cleo's finger, next thing she knew her attacker had flipped her over onto her back an outraged look sprawled across his face.

"Who the hell are you? Why did ya kill my nephew?" a deep calm voice came through his throat. Mouth opened, shocked by his utter calmness. "What cat got your tongue" he growled.

What was she doing? She has seen hundreds of hot guys, she did kill them all but that's not the point, what has gotten into her. She couldn't stop looking at his eyes, a dark brown with hazel around the iris in a zigzag pattern. Then his lips so big and full with a little red around the outside probably from the heat. Her hands went down his stomach feeling his 8-pack under his shirt, "wow" Cleo gasped her hand going up and down his chest, her free hand reaching down to her foot..

Now it was his turn to be shocked. As a smile crept across Cleo's face "w-what are you doin" the man stuttered out.

"Shhh" slowly turning so that she was going to be on top she leaned down pressing her lips against his till slowly he started kissing her back, her raven black hair falling to the side of her face. His hands started to roam her body pulling her shirt out of her pants making her tense under his fingers, Forcing a smile "so naive" she whispered.

"What" he pushed her away fear tightened his face as realization struck him. Cleo's smile turned into a sad one.

"I'm sorry about this" she sighed as she sunk the blade into his throat, "boys were never really my thing anyway" blood streamed out like someone just turned on a faucet. Dark red blood bubbled out of his mouth and down his chin. Once he stopped jerking around she stood surveying what little mess there was, she always praised herself for her clean kills. Blood pooled around the body collecting specks of dirt along the way, walking over to grab her pistol, she put it away with the now semi clean blade, cradling her injured hand she started for the market with a slight limp from the run. For all the work she did running was not one of her Favret tasks. 

Picking up her pace to merge with the crowd her job was done, yes there was an unexpected delay which caused an innocent to die but it really wasn't her problem, he was the one that chased, he should have known what she was. Assassins in the west are rear but they are still there, waiting for the next job.