Kim & The Hitman by Sandie Baldry (ebook reader for manga txt) 📗

The deadline is nine o’clock tomorrow morning. and I expect to see it on my desk, is that clear?’

Further up, the echo of a car door being slammed. A man stepped out into the aisle, a hundred metres or so away from me. It was him; he carried an enormous bunch of daffodils. He moved towards the woman with long strides, his grey mac fanning out behind him, Jenna pinned under his gaze.

She hadn’t yet noticed as she clicked a car fob to unlock the mini. The man’s pace quickened. The sound of his footsteps on the concrete ground now alerted her; she gazed up, meeting his eyes. For a moment she smiled, as she slipped her phone into her coat pocket, maybe thinking the flowers were for her, which in a way they were. A few metres away, he tossed the flowers aside, revealing a gun, stretching his arm to aim.

Terror swept through my body, and I thought about what Paul had once said, ’You don’t think; you just react.’ Wouldn’t admit it to him, but he was right. The hitman strode towards Jenna. He hadn’t seen me, so taken by surprise as I launched myself at him from behind the concrete pillar with all my weight. Hitting him like a rugby player with a grunt as nothing else would come out of my mouth.

We both fell back onto the bonnet of a silver Peugeot. The gun flew from his hand, landing on the ground, sliding under another parked vehicle on the opposite side. The overhead lights flickered over the three of us like we were in one of those old silent movies.

I mouthed to the woman to get in the car, jabbing a finger in that direction. Way ahead of me, she was already pulling the car door open. I hurried to join her on the passenger side.

The man staggered to his feet, standing in our path, a look of utter shock on his face, not quite grasping what had happened. His eyes then shot to the ground, searching for the gun. He leapt out of the way as Jenna gassed it and shot forward, then stalled. I stared at her, rolling a finger for her to start the engine. While the man was on the ground, struggling to retrieve his gun.

I leant across to turned the key, jogging her out of a trance and noting her hands were shaking. We shot forward and stalled again. This was no good. The woman was falling apart while the man stretched his arm beneath that vehicle. I jumped out of the mini and slid over the bonnet to the driver’s side, which I didn’t mind saying was a pretty cool move. Then pushed Jenna to the passenger seat; she only too relieved to hand over control to me. All she had done until then was stare ahead, this faint cry coming from somewhere deep in her throat.

I fired up the engine as the man retrieved the weapon and sped off: pop, pop behind us. The back window shattered, a glanced at Jenna; she was whimpering, her face buried in her lap.

I followed the signs for the exit. Pop, Pop again, a splinter of a concrete pillar flew off as a bullet struck it. The man was running behind us. Jenna kept her head down to her knees, hands covering her ears. Now comprehending the situation, she was screaming a string of expletives, actually the same one.

Taking a bend pointing upwards to the exit, I skidded around the back of the car, scraping the walls, the sound screaming behind us.

We emerged into daylight, going through the barriers landing on the road in front of a shocked taxi driver. Who, in a delayed action, honked his horn while making a gesture with his fist.

‘What the fuck?’ cried Jenna, emerging from her lap, squinting out of the shattered back window. Her high-pitched scream cutting through me as I headed towards the police station.

‘Bloody talk to me! What’s going on?’ she demanded. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

I gestured with my hand to my mouth in the hope she’d realise I didn’t have a voice. If possible, I would have said, her hubby had paid to get her knocked off.

‘Who are you?’ She repeated loudly in my ear.

Jenna wasn’t getting the whole I’ve lost my voice’ thing. I headed towards the third exit at the roundabout—no sign of the hitman. The police station was a minute away, and Jenna had given up asking me pointless questions, her eyes staring at the road ahead with terror. Screaming as I jumped a red light while pedestrians started across, grabbing onto the seat like her life depended on it.

I needed to calm down. My heart was pumping so hard in my chest; I swear I could feel my ribs move. Breathe, I told myself. I tried to recall the one meditation class I’d attended. One was enough, never been so bored. Breathe in and feel the breath emerge; count one to six. I made it to four before blowing it out.

The station was in sight. My eyes zeroed in on the building, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel. I swerved across the oncoming traffic with Jenna screaming in my ear. I was in the police car park skidding to a stop just short of a police car complete with two officers. I hadn’t noticed the reversing lights, but frankly, it wouldn’t have made much difference.

Hysterical Jenna fell out of the car, screaming at the officers who had emerged from theirs. While Jenna struggled between panting and sobs to explain what had happened, I got out. Both officers were looking in my direction, eyes moving to my arm. Following their gaze, blood was seeping through my expensive white jacket. My arm hurt, hurt a lot. At that point, my legs gave way, and everything went black.

 6

I found myself