My Girl by Jack Jordan Read Free Book Online

grip.
    ‘Please… please don’t kill—’
    ‘Shut up.’
    I should have brought the gun. Maybe that’s why Ryan had it. Maybe he needed it to protect himself whenever he met this man.
    She could barely string thoughts together as she tried to think of a plan.
    Kick him in the crotch and run. What if he has a knife or a gun? Should I scream? Will anybody in this block care?
    They stopped on the fourth floor. A young girl, barely able to stand, was leaning on a respectable-looking man in his fifties, dressed in a suit and tie. He immediately looked to the ground.
    ‘You see anything tonight?’ Paige’s attacker asked.
    ‘No. I didn’t see anything,’ replied the man, flattening himself to the wall so they could pass.
     ‘What you doing with that old bitch?’ the young girl said in a foreign accent. ‘You can have me. I’m still tight. Wanna test?’ she lifted up her skirt and flashed herself. Semen was slithering down her bruised thigh. She stumbled forward on her high heels and landed against Paige’s attacker, who pushed her to the ground with one hand.
    The man in the suit yanked the girl upright. He looked terrified. His eyes went to the blood dripping from Paige’s jaw.
    Paige was dragged past them and up to the fifth floor. Her heart was racing. Nervous sweat dripped down her sides.
    The man opened a door on the fifth floor and shoved her into the darkness. She hit the floor hard. He slammed the door shut and turned on the light.
    It was a small room with a double bed. Everything was shabby, dirty, and dated. Damp speckled the ceiling and cobwebs sat in the corners; the carpet was covered in stains. The room reeked of marijuana and stale sex. A used condom hung over the edge of the bin by her head.
    The man stepped over her and headed for the table in the corner. He tossed something onto the table. She heard the spark of a lighter and saw rising smoke. He turned, sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her on the floor.
    ‘Please, this was a mistake. I should never have come here. Just let me go. I won’t say anything to anyone!’
    ‘Why did you text me?’
    Her words tumbled out of her in a nervous rush. ‘My husband, Ryan, he had a phone to text you – only you. I wanted to find out what he was up to. I found the phone and a gun. He committed suicide two months ago.’
    She stared at him from the floor, watching him think and smoke, never taking his eyes off her. He threw her a cigarette and a lighter. He knew she smoked. He must have been watching her for a while. She stared at the cigarette on the filthy floor, unable to understand the act of generosity. A tear dropped onto the carpet. She took the cigarette and tried to light it, but her hands were shaking too hard and wet with her own blood. The man got up, crouched over her and lit the cigarette. He sat back down and Paige leaned against the foot of the bed, taking deep drags on the shaking cigarette.
    ‘I remember your husband. Don’t see many people like him round here.’
    Paige wiped her cheeks of blood and tears and focused on the man’s deep, slow voice.
    ‘Didn’t know he killed himself, neither.’ He took a drag on the cigarette and studied her. ‘You shouldn’t have come here.’
    ‘Please…’ she begged without anything left to say. Her life was in his hands.
    ‘I’m not a nice man. I kill. I kill to live.’
    ‘You’re… a hitman?’
    He nodded his head once. ‘And other things. Gets you paranoid, this job. You kill people, others come lookin’.’
    ‘I won’t tell anyone about what you do, I swear. I only came to find out why my husband had a gun.’
    ‘Well he didn’t come to me for a chat. You figure it out.’
    ‘Why? Who would he want dead so badly?’
    ‘Confidential, innit. Ain’t about to break my word to a dead man. I ain’t no snitch.’
    ‘Did you do it? Did you kill whoever he wanted dead?’
    He took a drag on his cigarette. ‘He called it off night before. Asked for a gun instead. Paid a