Incubus Hitman by Jack Porter

Author:Jack Porter [Porter, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-24T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

I made my way through the back-end rabbit warren to stand for a few moments next to the door leading to the main restaurant. Once there, I took a deep breath and started to repeat motivational quotes I’d seen or heard in an attempt to give myself some courage.

“It’s now or never,” I said. “You can do this. Fear is the mind killer. Do or die, the time is now, just do it.”

As far as motivation went, I figured those quotes would work better when my life wasn’t literally on the line. And yet, as I repeated them to myself, a strange thing happened.

I should have been terrified. Like a toddler at the Olympics, I was out of my depth, by a wide margin. I’d never been the kind of guy strangers would point at and say, “I bet he is a natural born killer.” I was more like the kind of guy they might point to and say, “I bet he screams like a girl when he sees a cockroach.”

And, really, they would have been right.

This was by far my biggest ever challenge, and I had no real right to expect it to go well.

“You don’t look like a killer,” Azrael had said. And dressed as a waiter, I looked even less like one.

But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a killer. I’d already done it once, hadn’t I? I had my knife and was ready to go.

I should have been terrified. Too scared to act. Marionetti’s guards were the sorts of guys who’d sneered at me all my life. Who was I to even think of getting past them to my target?

And yet…

As I stood behind the door, gearing myself up for action, I started to grin.

So what if I was out of my depth? Who cared that those guards could have torn me in half without trying? None of that mattered a damn.

All that mattered was I had a job to do, and I was damned if I was going to die not knowing what it was like to try.

The two guards could suck my dick. They didn’t matter. Only my target mattered, and if I had to break through a wall to get to him, then that’s what I would do.

For a moment, I actually considered that as an option. Maybe I could just drive a car through the wall against which Marionetti was sitting?

But again, if I did that, I couldn’t be certain that I’d finished the job. And besides, I was already inside, ready to go.

“Use what you’ve got,” I muttered to myself. Maximum effort. You miss every shot you don’t take. You got to know when to hold them–no, that wasn’t a motivational quote. Oh well. I was as ready as I ever would be.

I just needed one more thing to go with my knife, and I figured I knew just where to get it.

It was time to man up or shut up. Time to shit or get off the pot.

Time to make a real difference to my life.

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