The Hit

By Alexa Reid

Jennifer was a professional hit woman who prided herself on being thorough and discreet. She was usually in and out before anyone knew she was even there. Her latest job was in Miami where she was hired to kill a Mr. Bradley Simmons. He had a weakness for escorts so she decided to play that role to get close to him and get the job done. Her intention was to let her hair down and do something spontaneous for a change especially after overhearing his passionate night with his usual escort. Little did she know that after a night of raw passion she would fall in love with the man she was sent to kill. Now she found herself protecting him from the very person who sent her to terminate him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexa Reid
• Release date: May 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310273643

Alexa Reid

I truly love storytelling even though it is a new art form for me. It is fun to see the characters come alive on the page as though they are writing themselves and I am simply the vehicle for their expression. I enjoy bringing out the vulnerability of my characters, which makes them more human and relatable. I’m never sure how they will resolve their challengers but eventually they do, whether good or bad. I enjoy showing the plight of strong characters in moments of weakness, which I believe is truly the human condition that we all share. We are all trying to find our way in a crazy, complex world.I live in the sunshine state of Florida with my wonderful family. I have always been an avid reader, swimmer and periodic gym rat. I have always enjoyed getting to know people and watching them grow in their complex situations. I hope to keep bringing you complex and flawed characters in the future. I see my new writing endeavor as an adventure that I hope you will embark on with me.If you enjoyed this book please leave a review with your local retailer. I love to give and receive encouragement.

Book preview

Jennifer sat in the car with the a/c on full blast while stopped at a red light. One of her favorite songs came on the radio. She hadn’t heard it since childhood and suddenly found herself transported to somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind. She was back at their family home on Paulding Avenue in Bronx, New York where she was playing with her friends at the impromptu barbecue her dad was having. It was a bright summer day where someone had turned on the fire hydrant and the neighborhood kids were taking turns running through the water in their bathing suits, their loud giggles and happy screams permeating the air.

A warm feeling came over her as she remembered her dad’s gentle smile as he flipped the burgers and rolled the beef hotdogs over to the uncooked side. It was his favorite thing to do with his family during the long hot summer days. She sat in the car transfixed by his smile, which always made her feel safe and happy. She remembered running off to play with her friends in the driveway since he did not allow his kids to play in the fire hydrant water like hooligans.

She saw herself jumping rope with her friends and guessed she must have been ten or eleven years old. Her mind focused on the smiles of her two friends turning the rope, her long brown hair floating up and down with each jump. Their innocent laughter rang out loudly and overwhelmed her heart with joy. She remembered the sun on her skin and the aroma of the food, which caused the jumping game to be put on hold as she ran up to her dad to get her plate like the other kids. She took the paper plate from him being sure to say thank you, as her dad was a stickler for good manners. She went to the table that had the condiments and buns and began creating her masterpiece.

She heard the storm door slam shut and looked up to see her stepmother Dina coming out of the house with a cooler filled with ice and cans of Hawaiian punch, water, and different varieties of soda pop. She stared in her direction covering her eyes, as the glare of the sun was too bright a backdrop for her deformed face. Her eyes were drawn to the long knife scar on the left side of her face where an ex-boyfriend had cut her from above her ear to the beginning of her lip. This had happened many years before she met her dad but for some reason there was blood pouring from it now like a spicket, creating a hideous vision of her evil face.

The paper plate fell out of Jennifer’s hands and turned to glass as it shattered all around her like the bone chilling memory. The image jolted her out of the past and back into the here and now reminding her of the task at hand. Her heart was racing from the memory but she pushed it down deep like all the other painful ones. She drove a little further down the street once the light changed to green careful to keep her eye on the target. She made sure to adjust her short blunt cut red wig and her long black gloves. She caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror and for a moment did not recognize her reflection. Her skin was as white as a china doll, her lipstick crimson red and her eyes dark as midnight. She came up slowly to another red light but this time was primed and ready for action without childhood distractions.

She stepped out of the red Ferrari moving as quickly as the four inch black over the knee boots would let her. She was wearing a mid-thigh length plaid miniskirt and a black corset top with a black leather jacket. She could feel the eyes on her and heard a cacophony of whistles and catcalls. She moved like an agile feline as she approached the big black Mercedes Benz where her target sat in the driver’s seat next to his lovely mistress. She approached quickly and pulled the Sig Sauer 516 with the attached silencer from her thigh holster and pumped him 3 times until he slouched over the steering wheel causing the horn to blare loudly. She put one in his mistress before she could let off a scream primarily for good measure –hating to leave loose ends. She was as much a part of his evil deeds as he was.

She turned and ran swiftly through the street while everyone was still in shock trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. It took a few moments for the questioning voices to change to loud screams as people surrounded the car. She had already made her way down the block ducking down several side streets into an abandoned building nearby before the sounds of sirens filled the air. She continued down a flight of stairs to the lower level not quite reaching the basement where she found the hidden bag of goodies tucked behind the stair landing.

She stripped out of her costume with precision. She had done this many times and had it down to a science where she could be in and out of her get up in less than 5 minutes. She donned on the old tattered clothes that were in the bag along with the gray dirty wig, and old torn sneakers. She wiped the hideous chalky make-up off her face along with the crimson lipstick and shoved the gun into the bag along with her costume and gloves careful not to leave prints. She then walked out of the building pushing the grocery cart strategically left in the building the night before. It was loaded up with what seemed like garbage but it was old newspapers and books.

She remembered a short time earlier where everyone was ogling her with screams and whistles but now as she stepped from the shadows back out into the light of day she became invisible almost immediately. No one cared about an old homeless lady wandering the streets. The irony was not lost on her. It was so sad the value placed on human life by this society where beauty was paramount to human need.

She pushed the cart several blocks careful to move like the infirm until she reached a large dumpster behind the grocery store she had previously chosen and tossed the bag and its contents in. Anyone watching her would think she was dumpster diving for food. She continued on her way passing people hustling to their next job, appointment or just meandering aimlessly to their destination. No one made eye contact with her and on occasion some crossed the road to avoid her entirely. She smiled to herself with the realization that she was becoming a master of disguises.

*****

Jennifer stopped to look up at the large pink building. She hadn’t been back there in a really long time –at least ten years but felt drawn back to this place of love and kindness just standing on the sidewalk. There were so many people in the world that navigated it like angels trying to help touch as many lives as they could and Mrs. Brown was one of those women. She was a big beautiful black woman whose love for human kind matched the girth of her size. She retired from IBM and decided to open a rec center to serve the community where kids could come after school and just be kids.

This was the place where Jennifer came after school each day to play, do homework and hang out with her friends. She always had a big smile but Mrs. Brown was the only one who took the time to notice the deep sadness in her eyes. She had called her into her office one day and confronted her in that sweet knowing voice.

Sweetie, how is your day going today? She had that gentle grandmotherly way about her that Jennifer had never experienced before. She remembered smiling up at her like she did to everyone but Mrs. Brown hadn’t been fooled for one minute.

I’m fine Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Brown maneuvered her large body around the desk and came over to her and gave her a big hug before Jennifer could escape. She then whispered in her ear:

I know you’re scared but if there is anything you need or if you just want to talk to me about anything at all it will be between you and me only. Remember life is hard but one day it will get better and you are not alone. From that day forward Jennifer saw her as a mother figure, which meant the world to her because her own mother had left her and her sister while she was still in diapers for her father to raise. She didn’t even realize there was a deficit in her life until she met this woman. Her heart and spirit had been starved for love and attention but she had spent her young life soldiering on completely unaware.

She clung to Mrs. Brown like she was a surrogate for the love and peace she was missing in her life. At home she was surrounded by chaos and emotional warfare where you were not worthy of love unless you had good grades, or cleaned and cooked, which were primarily her stepmother’s responsibilities that she shoved onto them. It wasn’t enough to just a person existing in the universe like everyone else. She always felt like an indentured servant who had long paid her debt but would not ever be released from duty.

Jennifer wiped the tears away that had started running down her face from the horrible childhood memories. She met many female monsters on the way to adulthood but thank God Mrs. Brown was cut from a different breed of human. She genuinely loved children unlike her stepmother who clearly tolerated Jennifer and her sister Justine to be with their father.

Sometimes Jennifer had felt trapped in that home with no way out because she was only twelve years old with nowhere else to go. She had absolutely no rights. She wasn’t even given the basic human right to show emotions, often told to shut up whenever she cried during the frequent belt whippings. How do you do that when your skin felt like it was being peeled from your bones? She had learned to be numb and push her feelings down but no matter how hard she tried they eventually boiled to the surface in the form of rage. She took that rage out on the bullies at her school and would often dare them to challenge her instead of picking on the smaller kids who couldn’t or wouldn’t defend themselves. She wanted, no needed the excuse to beat their heads in.

True to form her parents were blind to her anger. They were too wrapped up in their selfish world. They had no idea this part of her even existed probably because they looked right through her every time she was in their presence. Instead of extending love to her they would much rather spend their time barking out orders for her to cook, clean, help one of the kids do homework, mow the yard etc. instead of truly seeing or caring for her.

She was quiet and diligent with her schoolwork, which helped to keep that other part of herself quiet. She learned to stay under their radar by blending into her surroundings like a chameleon and becoming invisible to them. She had long started counting down until she was out of that house especially since now she knew what her purpose would be in life. It became obvious the many nights she would lay awake wanting to kill them all in their sleep and free herself from her daily misery.

She looked back again at the pink building and smiled. This great place had been a symbol of refuge for years. She learned early on that when the outside world saw that kids were fed and clothed they somehow convinced themselves that was enough and everything was fine. Unless marks were left from belts, irons, or switches everyone turned away feeling the kids should be grateful for parents who loved them –it was just discipline. No one seemed to realize that external wounds healed fairly quickly but the emotional and spiritual wounds ran deep –sometimes down to the core of one’s being.

She stopped to stare at Mrs. Brown’s building one last time before leaving without knocking. It had fallen into foreclosure with the recession but she made full payment on it anonymously. All kids deserved to feel as safe as she did when she was there. She closed her eyes as the memories rushed back of wanting to run to higher ground when she found herself drowning in her father’s house of hatred, greed and selfishness. She was sure that some of the kids at the sanctuary had it worse than she did and were also grateful for momentary safety and peace. They were literally prisoners in homes they couldn’t escape from, stuck with adults who were plagued by their own selfishness, drug-addiction, mental illness and every other vileness visited upon the human animal. It was the least she could do to just give them happiness if only for a short while and who better to partner up with than Mrs. Brown –even if she didn’t know about it.

*****

Homicide Detective Callahan from the Baltimore police department looked in the car at the two dead bodies. It was obviously a professional hit. He had several witnesses but they all had different accounts of what happened. Some said it was a woman while others thought it might have been a transgender man –the body was just too perfect. Some saw a red skirt, some a black, and still others saw pants. Some thought she was black while others thought she was white or Latin. He had no idea what he was dealing with here but he couldn’t have people being gunned down in his city. He had the medical examiner get the bodies after CSI took photos and gathered all the forensics they could. The car was clean. Whoever this was left nothing to chance. He or she did the hit in public, which may suggest boldness and lack of respect for authority or maybe this person got off on the excitement of a public execution. He scratched his head trying to figure this one out. He glanced back at the abandoned Ferrari, which was probably stolen. Where the hell do you get a Ferrari to steal?

He didn’t know who the perpetrator was but they were thorough. He put on his gloves before reaching into the man’s pocket to get his wallet. His name was Roger Bainefield. He looked at what was left of him and wondered who the