If there was any other way to do this, I wouldn't have Matt do this kind of thing; the look of utter shock and incredulity was absolutely priceless. I wasn't in any shape to be shooting through the damn window when my shoulder was sending waves of excruciating agony through my body.
"No! Are you nuts? I'm not going to kill people!" Matt's voice was high pitched in reluctance and trepidation.
I would have felt bad for him if it weren't in my knowledge that because he had phoned his mother we were found. The last thing I'm feeling was consideration, "You're not going to kill anyone. I just need you to shoot the wheels to keep them from following us." A cracked reverberated the air hitting the roof of the car nearly making me duck and lose control of the stirring wheel.
A frightened squeak left Matt's lips as an attempt to keep himself from screaming; he was slouching down getting on his knees to escape the bullet. And here I was touched at the fact Matt didn't want to leave me alone to die. I couldn't believe how stubborn this guy was, "No! I am not touching that gun." He refused and from my peripheral vision, he clenched his eyes shut in fear.
I didn't know how he did it but that really made me feel bad, "Matt, you don't want me to pass out or die, right? Take my gun and shoot at the wheels. They'll only get scratches." I spoke more softly trying to convince the poor guy and instead, I received an angrily flushed face. "Hell, no! I've seen the movies, what if I hit something to make the car explode?"
I sighed running a hand through my hair, I started to feel a bit dizzy probably from the blood loss. If I didn't get Matt to shoot I'd end up doing it myself and lose more blood than I needed to. "Sorry to break it to you but the movies lied. Cars don't explode by hitting the engine or the gas tank—unless it's with tracer bullets except that's not the point."
"But sti-"
"Fuck sakes, Matt! Use the damn gun," I snapped my patience already ran thin, "One of those bullets is going to hit us if you don't shoot the motherfucking gun."
"Fine!" He snapped back, taking the gun from the cup holder and held it in his hands with a pale complexion. "How do I shoot?" His question had me sighing in exasperation, it took a lot of energy to deal with him.
I didn't know how those people did it. Kidnapped people for whatever reason and had them do what they demanded or maybe I ended up with one of the annoying ones. So much for protecting. "Hold it with both hands and aim, make sure to hold it tightly but not too tight. Use the rear sight to line up the white dots to the front sight," I started explaining, my gaze flicked to the meter noting I was going at a speed that could get us killed if Matt didn't shoot.
God only knew what kind of thing could happen.
When I looked over at Matt I saw him raise the gun holding the grip panel as I told him. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, "Aim for the wheels. Don't think just relax and keep your hands from shaking as less as possible." I noticed the way the tension in his body visibly relaxed as he took a deep breath gripping his fingers around the gun again.
His forefinger on the trigger, "Now what?" His voice was low, I heard him regardlessly, "Focus on where you're shooting. Don't worry about anything else."
A few shots hit the car—Matt didn't flinch and before I told him to shoot he did. He cursed when the kick of my pistol had taken him off guard, his back almost hitting the dashboard. I heard something explode, tires screeching across the road; my honey brown eyes got a view of the SUV through the rear mirror. It skidded and made a half circular spin before it toppled over.
"Oh my god," Matt gaped in shock covering his mouth as he released the gun like it was the evilest thing in the world—little did he know that it saved lives, "You said they wouldn't get hurt!" The disheartened expression across his face had me wondering how this guy managed to stay alive in this world with the way he was.
"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.
There was no television other than a knitting yarn on her lap, I ringed onto the bell causing her to snap right awake. She composed herself squinting her eyes as if she had a bad sight, "One room, please." I faked an accent with a charming smile, the old woman squinted more, "For how long?"
"Only for today, Darling."
"That will be forty-five."
I fetched for my wallet trying to ignore the pain on my left shoulder as I pulled out my wallet. I gave her the forty-five dollars and in return, I received a key to one of the rooms; I made my way back to the car. When I arrived, I leaned myself against the hood of the car watching Matt rummage through the bag.
I bit my inner cheek holding in my laughter while observing the way he furrowed his eyebrows and chew at his lower lip in curiosity. I knocked onto the window with a humorous smile plastered on my lips and he jumped hitting his head against the ceiling of the car. The lights around the motel made it possible for me to see the blush across his cheeks, "N-Neil! What the hell?" He hissed and rubbed his head as I opened the door peeking my head in.
"See," I said, "You never listen, you make it hard to trust you with anything."
He blinked, fingers fumbling with the zipper as he looked down at it, "I was...I was curious."
I snorted, "What are you? A kid? Come on, I got us a room." I closed the door again, scurrying around the car to wait for him to get out. It looked pitiful seeing him in handcuffs while carrying a bag in an awkward way and struggled to close the door. He appeared disgruntled; we headed silently to the room finding only one bed.
I didn't mind since I wasn't going to sleep once I got the bullet out of my shoulder and stitched it. Matt threw the bag on the table and fell onto the bed with a soft comfortable sound. He snuggled onto the pillows with a large sigh while I busied myself in taking off my jacket followed by my shirt.
I held the shirt in hand walking to the duffle bag which was still slightly open, "You can go ahead and sleep, I'm going to be up for a while." I encouraged, taking out a first aid kit and went back to the bathroom on the left side of the room.
The motel room was pretty small with a long bed against the right side of the wall, bedside tables, cream-colored walls with two paintings. A window next to the entrance door with burgundy curtains, a lamp, and two armchairs. On the left side of the room was a table with two chairs, another painting above; besides it, a dresser with a mirror and another lamp placed adjacent to it with an old television. A dark brown carpet throughout the entire room.
The room could have been better if the sheets on the bed didn't look like it was meant for an elderly couple. The motel was owned by an old lady. When I walked into the bathroom it was also small with—surprisingly—marble floors like the sink; there was a white tub and I had to admit that it appeared clean, but those transparent curtains stained at the bottom told me otherwise.
I stood in front of the mirror, sighing at the pale complexion and the messiness of my brown locks. "Neil, can I watch television?" I furrowed my eyebrows hearing the brunette across the room; it wasn't as if it was going to change anything. "Even if I say 'no' you're not going to listen to me." I stated.
"Fine, then I won't watch television."
"Highly doubt that." I muttered to myself; I've only been with this guy for long several hours and I knew for a fact he did whatever he wanted. I worked my way on the bullet on my shoulder, gritted my jaws and breathed sharply from the excruciating pain. I wasn't sure if it hurt more taking out the bullet or stitching the wound together. By the time I was done I've shed more blood to the point I was sure I was going to collapse.
I rubbed the alcohol pad over the wound to clean off the blood then dropped it in the first aid kit. I never trust throwing things that could identify me, whether they were after me or not. I closed the kit already opting in taking a shower, I stepped out of the bathroom and to my surprise Matt was asleep. The television wasn't on and the remote on the dresser wasn't moved—or touched.
He didn't turn on the television.
It was for his own good; the moment he sees the news about himself it would be harder for him as it was. I wanted to trust Matt, I really did but he made it difficult when he was like that; I couldn't blame him. I was the one who dragged him into this mess and I had a choice to leave him somewhere, but I didn't. All to protect a guy I didn't know.
I had no idea what was going through my mind at the time and it wasn't the first time I've been hunted. I'm always doing these kinds of things alone, so I thought, I can't leave him by himself. For as long as I could recollect I'd been facing danger and there's something addicting in the adrenaline. Something about chasing someone or being the one being chased like a game of tag.
The fact that it included someone dying was much more thrilling. I remembered how I held my first gun, when I shot my first target, when I had my first chase, and all of those moments were something I enjoyed on my own. I never had a normal life; I actually enjoyed myself like this and at the same time I didn't.
There have been people I cared about that I lost due to this job and I'll be damned if Matt ended up dying for my addiction to danger. Witnessing Matt shoot a gun—his first lucky shot—I saw the fire in his eyes lit up even brighter. He liked the danger, he relished it except he didn't want to allow himself to submit to it.
I found myself at the edge of the bed running my fingers over his forehead to brush some of his tousled strands of brown hair. He had a round face, a straight nose, and thin lips; I had the urge to kiss him and caress his smooth fair skin, yet I refrained. The leather choker around his throat suited him rather well; at least I was able to trust that device to tell me where he was at all times. It wasn't the time for his, I needed to get to my safe house, then prepare myself to figure out what to do with my client.
I wasn't sure what happened—he could have set me up to have me killed, he could be using me as a scapegoat, or he had something else in mind. He'd probably be hiding somewhere and it's going to be hard to find him if they're still looking for me. It was best for us to lay low for a while before we headed out again to fix this problem.
The Mafia won't be my only problem if the police managed to identify me. I was brought back from my own thoughts when a small satisfied sigh dropped from his thin lips. I pulled my fingers away contemplating if I should take off the handcuffs or not. I dismissed it as soon as possible standing up from the bed walking to my duffle bag.
I found hair dye, hair dye remover, glasses, hats, clothes, and a pack of new underwear that hadn't been used. Luckily, I brought clothes enough for two people and the safe house should be a several hours drive. I had a few magazines for my gun as well as some grenades in case I was in a really tight spot.
"Neil," Hands shook my shoulders except I didn't want to wake up; it was strange how my mind was clouded and woozy. "Neil, wake up." I recognized the voice to be Matt and I snapped my eyes open.
The first thing I noticed was the black strands of hair swept across Matt's forehead bringing out the piercing blue eyes and the roundness of his face. Despite sweeping across his forehead it was treated more as a quiff with strands pointed up and all over the place. Black fitted him a lot better than brown and not to be lying, he looked cuter. "Your hair..." I trailed off gazing at him completely stunned.
His hands slipped off my shoulders standing straighter, a stinging sensation warned me of the still healing wound. "I used a hair dye remover in the bag." I raised an eyebrow wondering why the guy would dye his hair in the first place. His cheeks flushed subtly, "People would call me 'cute' so I decided to dye it to look more...manly?"
It took a moment to sink in and another to burst out into fits of laughter shaking my head. I ran my fingers through my dyed ginger brown hair, "You...You are definitely stupid. You still look cute with or without black hair, I say you look much cuter with black hair." There was a teasing tone and a humorous smile across my lips as I stood up from the armchair.
I unintentionally fell asleep, the stiffness on my back and neck notified me it was for a few hours; I noted the change of clothes and the duffle bag was on the bed—weird how he changed his clothes with handcuffs on. "Shut up," He said with an embarrassed expression, "You cut and dyed your hair ginger, what's that for? To make yourself look hotter than you already are?"
A dark blush dusted across his cheeks when he realized what came out of his mouth. The smile turned into a taunting smirk, "I wasn't aware I looked hot to you. All you ever do is insult me and look like you weren't interested." I was crossing my arms over my chest observing his reaction. He grunted walking away from me and toward the bed so I wouldn't have to see his face.
"I'm not interested in you. I was...uh...looking...yeah, looking and I sort of noticed." It was a terrible lie, it was so obvious it was hard to keep myself from laughing. I shook my head, my hands went through my pockets to find the gun on my back and my phone as well as the keys in place.
"Yeah, sure, whatever makes you feel better."
I walked around him to the duffle bag, his eyes watching my every movement as I took out a pair of glasses and put it on. I looked up, zipping the duffle bag, "Ready to go? We have a long ride ahead." I enquired, his blue eyes were gazing at me intently; did I look strange with the glasses on?
I waved a hand in front of my face snapping him out of the trance, "Uh...yeah?" His eyebrows knitted—barely aware what question I asked him. I nodded then started checking the entire room making sure Matt didn't leave anything behind or anything that could get us into trouble.
We got out of the room and I locked it up giving Matt the duffle bag to hide the handcuffs around his wrists. I walked to the reception, the door wide open as I stepped in and gave the same elderly lady the key back. I headed out meeting Matt at the car although, I wasn't going to use the same car again.
Instead, I took one of the cars without an alarm or anything modern enough to track us. I picked the lock with the equipment in my bag and turned the vehicle on the old fashion way. I told Matt to stay in the car and much to my relief he had listened; I returned to the other car and opened the trunk.
There was a gallon of gasoline inside, so I took it out closing the trunk; I opened one of the doors next pouring the gasoline everywhere and proceeded to do it outside as well. I tossed in the key of the car with the gallon, closing the door and took out a match from my back pocket. I lit it up and tossed it—it was an instantaneous fire; watching the fire eat its way inside the car burning any evidence of either of us being inside.
I padded my way back and quickly shifted the gear shift, I strolled out as if nothing happened just as an explosion resounded through the parking lot of the motel. "So, where are we going?"
I glanced at Matt who was already staring at me in curiosity, reluctant to tell him anything. "Where the wind takes us." I answered in a singsong tone making it clear he wasn't getting any answers from me.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For everything."
"You should be." I retorted straightforwardly, hoping it weighed on his consciousness how much of a pain in the ass he was when he didn't listen. I had to admit, it was also partly my fault, but he didn't need to know that.