Kidnapped By A Hitman [BoyxBoy] ✓

NEIL M. [4]

"I said they would get scratches, never said it wouldn't hurt," I declared earning a look of betrayal through those piercing blue eyes. "Don't give me that face, imagine how I felt when you called your mom with my phone. Look at the bright side, at least the car didn't explode."

Seconds later a loud explosion resounded through the night, crispy air and from the mirror, a fire burned brightly. How is that possible? Was there some kind of bomb in there?

Matt whimpered in his seat, "I just...I just killed someone. Not just anyone but the fucking Mafia—they're going to kill me." I was sighing to myself knowing what was going to come next. The last thing I needed was for him to talk about sentimental shit and I was not up for that. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly lucky—I haven't had any luck ever since I took him.

"Matt, calm down." I tried outstretching my hand towards him and he jerked away with a glare. His eyes were glossy, "Fuck you, Neil! Fuck. You. I told you I didn't want to but no, you had to keep telling me to do it. I killed someone, Neil, I don't even know if they had a family—a brother, a sister, oh god I hope they don't have a kid because that means I'm the monster who took their dad away." His voice was brittle, tears rolling down his pink, flustered cheeks as he tangled his fingers into his hair.

The handcuffs were creating a purple line around his wrists; I retracted my hand after failing at the attempt to comfort him. "There's nothing I can say to make you feel better but those guys, they aren't good people. They have more blood on their hands than I do and I'm a professional." I pointed out in a softer tone yet it didn't help the sobs and sniffles coming from him.

I was steadily losing my footing on the gas pedal to go slower, Matt curled himself against the door of the car. Now I felt like an asshole, "I don't care, it's still someone's life I took. They are still people and I don't have the right to be taking their lives away. I don't understand how you can work this kind of job; doesn't it bother you at all?"

"No," I admitted in all honesty, "I enjoy it because it's dangerous. I like the thrill of finding and catching my target, I like killing my target and getting paid for it. I also like staying at home watching the news, cooking, and reading on my days off."

I allowed the silence to linger, noting how color was returning to the dark sky. I had been up all night; the pain ran through my body made my muscles taut and the exhaustion took a toll on my body—dizzying me. "You make me sick." I winced at Matt's words; my chest stung at the pure disgust in his voice. It's not like I wasn't used to it, people simply didn't understand how I felt when I did it.

The irritable brunette kept himself at a distance and I didn't bother trying to make a conversation. The blood soaking my jacket and the driver's seat felt dry and gelid; my vision would get blurry from time to time but I kept myself together. By some chance, after driving for what seemed like twenty minutes I caught a glimpse of a motel.

I drove into the parking lot taking my time as I strolled in parking the car on an empty space. When I did I turned off the engine catching Matt's attention, "Are we staying the night?" From the way he spoke, I could tell he really wanted to sleep on a bed. I contemplated for a moment, "I guess, I have to stop the bleeding." I reply taking my gun and placed it back where it belonged.

The brunette only nodded, eyes fixated on the handcuffs, "Do you want me to book us a room? You look like you're about to pass out."

I snorted, "No, you stay here and don't open the bag."

I got out of the car parked in front of the motel rooms and walked towards where I assumed was the receptionist on the right of the motel inside. There were no cameras around and it looked like one of those old motels. My speculations were proven correct when I came face to face with an elderly looking woman who didn't appear to have slept in a long while.