Dangerous Type
He was in the throes of sleep.
But then he heard a noise. He sprang up like a jack-in-the box, only he wasn’t in a box, but in his bed. Half naked, he had his semi-automatic drawn and ready to offload its contents.
It was like a heartbeat: that one action. One minute he was in embraced in sleep’s comforting arms, and the next, he was aiming his pistol at an unseen perpetrator/intruder/burglar/cat?
Nate Holden let out a breath and rolled out of bed, placing his gun unto the night-stand.
“Hey, Kitty,” he said, as he picked up a tawny cat who was mindlessly licking herself. “What you doing, girl? For a minute I thought you were an…”
Intruder!
Nate’s throat suddenly became dry, as he turned around and saw that someone else was in his room.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. It couldn’t be. Was he still dreaming?
Kitty had escaped from his arms and her claws had scraped his bare chest, but he hadn’t realized this. What he did realized was that Nina, his ex-girlfriend, was standing before him. And she was alive.
His eyebrows arched upward, and the beginning of a tick was formed at his left jaw. He tried to maintain a deadpan expression.
Controlling his tone of voice, Nate said, “Thought you were dead?”
“Of course,” she said, “you would.” She was using the sultry tone that she sometimes used on him. Well, that is, used to use.
Without another word, she turned and sashayed from his bedroom, one red stiletto clad foot after the other. It was her way of saying “follow me”.
Nate saw that her hair had gotten longer and her butt, which he never had minded admiring, looked better than ever in the black leather pants she had on. When she reached the doorway, she called over her shoulder,” And put on some clothes, Nate.”
“Yeah,” Nate said, “sure.” And put my gun close, he added silently.
What the hell was she doing alive? Nate did not believe his eyes. Nina. Alive. And hotter than ever! Nate shook his head as if by doing this he could make her disappear---again.
He stuffed his legs into a pair of jeans and pulled a black t-shirt over his head. Shoes… he needed shoes. Where had he tossed them last night? Nate scratched his head. Aha, the bathroom.
For Christ’s sake, Nate thought furiously, as he donned his sneakers, I saw you die. I shot you with my own gun a year ago. I killed you .You’re supposed to be dead!
Quickly, he checked the cartridge in the weapon that always had a spot occupied beneath his pillow. It was stupid: him checking his gun, because it was always loaded. And he never went anywhere without it. Even though he did go someplace without it, it surely wasn’t going to be that morning.
As he knew, the gun was loaded. Sticking it into the waist band of his jeans, he grabbed his brown leather jacket from the closet. Right. Now he was ready. He turned around saw her in the doorway; her head cocked to the right, hazel eyes squinting, her luscious lips curved into a half-smile.
“Leave the gun, Nate.”
He felt like a child who had been caught stealing bubble- gum at a store.
Darn it!
For an hour they drove in silence.
She hadn’t uttered a word. And if Nate was not uneasy before he sure was now.
All the while they were driving in the car Nate wondered what Nina was thinking. Maybe he could’ve deciphered this if he saw her eyes, but they were hidden behind thick glasses that matched her shoes.
“Why red?”
She stared straight ahead. “Why red?” She repeated.
Nate gazed out the tinted windows of the sedan as they came to a stop light. Outside, a mother scolded her son, who appeared to have taken something off the streets and placed it into his mouth. Nate watched as the little boy spat something green unto the pavement.
He could’ve passed for three, with short, blond flat hair, but Nate was certain he was five.
“How come you’re travelling in a red vehicle?” He kept looking outside. The light had changed and they were moving again. “You usually drove in black.”
“Hmmm.” Nina leant back against the leather seat. She turned a corner. “Yes, Nate, I usually drove in black…before you killed me.” The corners of her lips curled upwards. Her speech was always calculated. “Now I like red.”
For the first time since they left Nate’s apartment, she turned to him. Nate was no longer gazing outside. He met her gaze, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was him she looked at.
“I like red now,” she said, “because it’s the same colour as warm blood.”
Nate turned away quickly. And Nina smirked.
Gazing outside, he thought about his past.
Once when he was in Antigua, on business, Nate had killed seven persons: five men and two women. Usually he wouldn’t let the women die, but he couldn’t let them live either, so always damage was done to their spinal cord. His goal was to make certain that his female perpetrators remained alive, but speechless. But as it happened, both women died right away.
His task was simple. He was to kill eight people in seven days, or less. Research had already been done on the subjects by another colleague so Nate had received all data necessary.
One of those eight was Nina, or Giselle, as she was called then. Giselle was the girlfriend of the main subject, Gary, whose real name was Michayel Abraham. Gary’s expertise was foreign goods. He ran shipments off several Antiguan docks. To the police and detectives there, Gary’s façade was believable. He was seemingly innocuous, but anyone who knew better-- anyone like Nate and his people-- knew what is was that Gary truly had been offloading from the containers; the goods were just a front.
Giselle was supposed to die.
But Nate couldn’t have killed her. This was because of five reasons.
One: she herself was under cover, and her being Gary’s girlfriend was an act: Gary was also her assignment. Two: although Nate hadn’t been aware of this, she had important information on Gary’s friends, who were also into the drug trade business, and this was crucial to Nate’s boss. Three: he thought she was the most attractive female he had ever seen. Four: he thought he was in love. And five: she had a gun between his eyes.
A smile appeared on Nate’s face as he remembered her expression when he had deftly taken the weapon away and regained his advantage… twenty minutes later.
She had stared at him coolly with those brown eyes, no doubt assessing the situation. At that moment he had thought she looked even more—
A high pitched sound broke his train of thought.
“What is that?” Nate asked, pointing at the deck.
“It’s opera.”
Nate scrunched up his face. Opera? Ugh.
“Since when do you…” He cut himself off before he could finish his sentence.
It had been a year. People can change within a year, their tastes too. Wouldn’t he know about that?
“How can you listen to this?” he asked instead. “It sounds like Chinese.”
Nina inhaled deeply. Why did she have to be the one to do this? They could’ve gotten someone else to take him to The Cove. Her boss hadn’t known about her relationship with Nate and Nina did not intend to make him wise. And she was certain that if George knew that would be the end of the life she was currently making for herself… and for Joey. Don’t forget Joey.
“Get out.”
Nina pushed the shades over her eyes and into her hair.
“I said get out.” She turned to him and saw that he was asleep, his head resting against the window.
Sighing, Nina exited the car. Gravel crunched loudly beneath her shoes as she went to back of the sedan. She popped the trunk and removed the two black bags inside. She then placed them beside the vehicle and returned to the inside for flash lights. It was getting late. The sun was already gone and a bluish tint was forming.
Closing the door, she looked around at the empty path which would take them into the woods. The gravel road which intersected the main one ended about thirteen feet in, only to make way for damp earth.
Nina nodded. The shoes would have to take it.
She gazed back inside the car at Nate. Now to deal with this jerk. Grasping the handle, Nina yanked open the passenger’s door and watched as Nate fell out unto the gravel.
The impact awoke him.
“Ow.” Nate rubbed the side of his head, then the side of his hip. “Why’d you do that?” Nate scowled. “You could’ve injured me.”
Nina ignored him. She locked the door before she went to get the bags and the flash lights she placed atop them.
“Catch,” she said as she threw one at him.
But the flash fell to the gravel near Nate’s feet. He was taking in his surroundings. He knew the path obviously lead to the woods, anyone could tell this by the thick growth of trees. But the question was what was beyond them...or who?
He bent and picked up the black flash, wondering what was stopping him from running. It was only Nina and, as far as he knew, she hadn’t a gun.
“You’re not going to do that.” Nina told him. “You’re not going to run.”
Nate shook his head. She always did that: read his mind. Either that or he was really predictable. Nah…he was never predictable. He refused to believe the latter. Anyway Nina was right; he wasn’t going to run.
Nina proceeded into the woods with one of the bags in her left hand and the flash in the other. In a few minutes she’ll have to turn it on.
Nate watched her go before he stared at the large travelling bag she left behind. Yes, he knew he was supposed to carry it, but he grunted when he took a hold of it. It was heavy.
Heavy as though there was a body squashed up inside, Nate thought uneasily.
