The Perfect Shot

Chapter 4

"You walked in holding your gun."

"Can't be too careful."

She nodded her head like she understood. "So how were you going to kill me?"

I looked down at her to see how serious she was. She looked genuinely interested.

Weird girl.

"I was planning on breaking your neck and making it look like you fell down the stairs."

She pursed her lips. "Yeah, that's believable. I've almost done it."

I blew out a breath. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Don't be an asshole."

"I've known of you for six hours and I already know you could trip over your own shadow."

"Hey, my shadow is a tricky bastard. He likes it when I fall to his level."

I rolled my eyes. I almost wanted to laugh at her joke.

"Wait." Her face palled as she looked up at me. "When we were arguing about the perfect shot, you weren't talking about photography were you?"

I shook my head slowly.

"I was fighting with an assassin." She whispered in horror.

I nodded my head.

"I am an idiot." She said quietly.

"I tried to warn you."

She looked me up and down. "Aren't you a little young to be an assassin?"

"I am older than you."

She looked up at me. "How do you know my age?"

"I googled you." I shrugged. "I google all of my marks."

She slapped her hand against her forehead. "I don't think you are supposed to admit that."

"Because googling is the worst crime I have committed." I rolled my eyes. "Besides there aren't qualifications to be an assassin. You just have to be willing to kill people."

"There should be. If there were qualifications, maybe the assassin would have gotten the job done." She looked at me accusatively.

I glared at her. "You're harder to kill than expected."

"I am five foot eight with zero fighting experience and can barely lift my grocery bags. You're tall like a basketball player and supposedly an assassin. How am I hard to kill?"

I didn't bother answering because I didn't have an answer. It should have been easy.

I heard the moment she jumped off her bed. Her footsteps thundered as she hid from me. She was falling down every step she took. It was a miracle she didn't kill herself in the process.

At the same time every time she fell, she was always out of my reach. When she fell on top of me, she managed to hit the gun out of my hands. In all her flailing, I couldn't keep her down. When we fell down the stairs I always seemed to be on the bottom, cushioning her fall.

Truth was, she had the best kind of bad luck.

We sat back in silence, staring at nothing, and thinking of everything.

She turned to look at me again. "Does your mother know what you do?"

I glared at her from the corner of my eye.

"Have you done it your whole life? Or is it a new thing?" She asked.

I ignored her.

"It must be new considering how bad you are at it." She thought.