Disarmed

Chapter One

Zen’s POV

It was too damn bright outside. I tried my best to squint through the rays of light shining through the open curtains. I should’ve shut those damned things last night. Once my eyes adjusted, I snuck a peak at the naked woman beside me. A nice figure, I supposed, but I shuddered to think where all she’d been. It took the slut all of twenty minutes to follow me up to this hotel room. What was her name again?

Fortunately for me, she seemed pretty knocked out still. I never slept passed seven am, and today was no exception. I slowly dragged myself out of the plush hotel bed, stretching my worked muscles along the way, and retrieved my Android out of my jacket. It showed one text message and a time of 6:42am. That gave me about three hours of sleep. Great. I could’ve gotten more if I had kept it in my pants.

I pulled my smokes out, setting them on the marble table before sliding my arms into my slim fitting black dress shirt. Last night I was a member of the wait staff, which spoke volumes for that woman’s standards. She didn’t even know her sick fuck of a husband was dead, yet. I slipped on my shoes, running a hand through my ear length raven-colored hair and swiping the back of my other hand across my mouth, trying to remove any traces of lipstick. I always slept in pants. In my line of work, you had to be ready for anything. Being caught with your dick out just wasn’t an option.

Now to just get out of here before-

“Were you just going to leave without telling me?” The high-pitched and whiny voice made my ears want to bleed. Without facing her, I grabbed my smokes, pulling one out with my lips then shoving the carton in my back pocket.

“Mornin’ darlin’. Have sweet dreams?” I asked, sounding as disinterested as I felt. She huffed.

“You can’t just leave, Joey. I’m not some call girl. How do you think that makes me feel?” She complained. I turned to her with my sweetest smile.

“That’s just it, sweetheart. I really don’t give a fuck how you feel.” I smirked when I heard her gasp, but kept walking out the door. She sure had a foul mouth when she didn’t get her way. Lucky for her, she just inherited a shit-load of money from her sugar daddy, so I knew her bad mood wouldn’t last.

Halfway down Broadway my phone began to ring. Shit, I forgot to check my message. I took one more drag before putting the phone to my ear.

“Yo.”

“Zen, you twisted son-of-a-bitch.”

“Nice to hear from ya, Danny boy.”

“Don’t call me that, you cocky bastard. How do you sleep at night?”

I laughed, quickly glancing around before crossing the busy city street. “You don’t exactly have the moral high ground here. I believe you’re the one who paid me to kill that fat bastard.”

“Yea, to kill him. Not sleep with his wife.”

“Now ex.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at my twisted sense of humor. “Point made. I tell you, if you weren’t so damn good at your job, I would turn you in myself. Someone like you doesn’t deserve to see sunshine.”

I scoffed. I would be offended if I hadn’t already come to that conclusion myself after 26 years of life. I was a killer, through and through, Danny had made that clear. I wasn’t even a vigilante, seeking justice. Nope. I chased the money and the thrill. With all of the sins I had committed in my life, why would I feel guilty for fucking some bimbo who was throwing herself at me like a bitch in heat?

“I don’t see what’s wrong with having a little fun. Come on, my good looks must be good for somethin’.”

“Yea, yea. Enough with the narcissistic bullshit, already. Your next job is on your coffee table. Location 219. Better hurry, payer wants it done tonight.” I groaned into the phone. Three hours of sleep and I already have another hit to do. Dan knew better to pull shit like this, but I didn’t have the energy to object.

“Got it.” I hung up the phone without waiting for his sassy retort. Location 219 was about a five minute walk from here. I had several apartments, all throughout this city and the next. All under different names of course. It kept the feds off my trail, especially when I had Dan’s shady as hell men leaving documents inside. It’s amazing how money can make people turn a blind eye.

I laughed to myself, tossing my cigarette onto the concrete and stomping it out with my boot. How do I sleep at night, huh? I ran my hand through my hair before crossing the street again. I could see my breath. It was abnormally cold for early fall and my cheeks were red and exposed to the nipping morning wind. Regardless, my thoughts distracted me enough to barely notice.

I had been in this business since I was eighteen years old, fresh out of foster care. I got scouted by Dan. I guess he saw me as wounded enough to kill for money, and attractive enough to do it with ease. He was right. He approached me the day I got kicked out on the streets with a proposition. I could live a life of luxury, and all I had to do was what came naturally to me; kill. I worked my ass off in Dan’s training facility, learning the ins and outs of physical combat and manipulation. It didn’t take me long to climb the ranks in our hit group. I easily became his go-to killer. The others called me merciless and sick. I didn’t give a fuck. So I had never once turned down a hit. Why would I? I had gotten used to turning off the part of my mind that valued human life. By this point, all I saw was a big, fat dollar sign.

A group of barely-legals passed by me on the sidewalk, clutching onto their Gucci bags and giggling to one another. I made eye contact with one of them, causing them all to blush and giggle louder. I smirked. Damn kids didn’t know what they were looking at. I shook my head when I heard them making comments on my ass. If I hadn’t just gotten laid, I might’ve snagged one. But I just didn’t feel like it. Besides, those girls had money. The last thing I needed was some rich ass father wanting my balls.

I took the steps to my apartment two at a time. Sure, it had an elevator. I just hated taking them. You never knew what would be waiting for you on the other side.

I unlocked the door, looking both ways before opening it. The coast was clear, everything as untouched as when I left it, save for a manila folder lying just where Dan said it would be. The special seal in the right corner told me that it was official. I took my black leather gloves out of my kitchen island’s drawer, sliding them on before sitting on the leather sofa. I had a rule about keeping my prints off of Dan’s documents.

Location 219 was probably my favorite apartment in the city. It was on floor 21 of a nice complex. It had white marble floors and clean lines throughout, decorated simply with greys and blacks. It was classy, a place that made you almost nervous to enter on the grounds that you might break something. Sure, it was a little much. But it reminded me how far I had come with my work, and how well it paid.

I broke the seal in the corner, flipping open the folder. I blinked a few times before letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Covering page after page of information was a 5X8 picture of a young woman, maybe 20, with neat, long blonde hair and the brightest sky blue eyes I had ever seen. She was petite, but with curves to drool over, modestly dressed, in dark jeans and a tight white t-shirt, barely showing a lick of cleavage. Aside from her gorgeous body, the thing that stood out to me the most was her smile. Her eyes were slightly squinted, and she had the most beautiful straight, white teeth partly hiding behind plump pink lips. Not an ounce of makeup covered up her natural beauty. She looked like a literal angel and I had to remind myself to breathe as I scanned the portrait almost obsessively.

I could taste the bile threatening to come up my throat when I realized what I was looking at; my next hit.