MATTHEUS TARO

Mattheus Taro felt weak as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window toward the street below. People walked down the sidewalk, not a worry or despair hampering their carefree lives. They were fortunate to live without the same guilt that weighed Taro's heart. He was reluctant to tell Rachel the terrible truth, but she needed to know soon.

It's the only way.

A soft click of a door opening came from nearby. Taro's heart froze. Someone was there. It could not be Rachel; she had just left only moments ago. Unless, he hoped, she forgot something.

Soft footsteps came from the other end of the suite. Someone was searching for him.

"R-Rachel?" Taro called out.

Silence. The footsteps were getting closer now. Taro's hands shook slightly. A sick feeling in his stomach intensified with Taro's horrifying conclusion.

They know.

His heart fluttered with hope when he remembered his only means of a weapon. He dashed toward his closet and pulled out a gun from his cloak. Very quietly, Taro hid behind his opened door, hoping he would have a chance to shoot the intruder before he could finish his objective. He dared not breathe; any noise could signal Taro was there.

The footsteps grew louder until they finally stopped in front of Taro's open door. A man walked into the room, his eyes cautious and determined. The silencer in his hands confirmed Taro's suspicion that they had found out. This man was an assassin, hired to kill Taro for his knowledge and secrecy. I should have known those bastards would have done this. He was glad he had a weapon to defend himself with, though he was not used to its heavy weight. He had never used a gun before, but knew this was his only means of protection.

Taro prayed his plan would work. His heart pounded so loudly, he was afraid the grey-haired man would hear it. The assassin did not let his guard down as he looked throughout the grand suite. The silencer had already been cocked and ready to serve its purpose. Gathering all his courage, Taro aimed his gun at the man. His finger slowly pulled the trigger.


When he closed the door that led to the hallway, Vincent pulled off his tinted shades. There was no reason to hide his face in here; the only cameras were in the hallway and bottom floors of the hotel. Vincent eyed the rooms of the suite, looking for his victim. He held his silencer in front of him as he moved toward the bedroom. The door was already open when he stepped inside. No one seemed to be there, but something told Vincent that Taro was near.

He was not prepared for the chaos that happened next. A bullet grazed past his head, and shattered the window before him. Vincent spun around to face a pale-faced Taro aiming a gun at his head. The short, stubby man looked terrified as he stood behind the door Vincent had just entered. Taro attempted to shoot him again, but Vincent was too quick. The assassin shot him twice in the chest. Taro collapsed to the floor, blood staining his pinstripe suit. He cried out for help, struggling to lift his heavy body off the floor. Vincent felt no hesitation as he sent another bullet through Taro's head. This time, Mattheus Taro remained still.

Vincent scowled at the broken window. His plan had not worked out as smoothly as he'd hoped. Someone must have heard the gunshot and shattered glass. He couldn't stay here, for any moment now police officers would be arriving to find out what happened.

He glared at Taro's dead body, blaming him for this mess. Hiding the silencer in his pocket, Vincent exited the fancy bedroom. He made sure to place his tinted sunglasses on before entering the hallway. At least it was empty this time. No witnesses, no problems.

Now for my next assignment.


Rachel felt a tremble of rage ready to erupt within her. People glanced at her as she rushed down the street fuming like a madwoman. The presentation had been worse than what she had expected. She remembered the way Adley smiled evilly at her as she messed up yet another business presentation.

That bastard humiliated assigned me to this job so he can humiliate me! Rachel cursed. She knew Adley kept her on the job just so he could continue annoying the hell out of her.

Her blood ran cold the moment she saw the police officers talking on walky-talkies with grave faces. A group of curious people surrounded the officers, watching an old man lying on a stretcher being taken out of the hotel. Rachel gasped. It was her father.

She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, pushing past the crowd without the slightest concern for their complaints. She could not block the horrid thoughts that raced through her mind. When Rachel finally reached the front of the crowd, she ignored the police officers and ran toward her father's stretcher. One bulky policeman held her back with a strong arm. Rachel spun around and snapped, "That's my father! Let me go to him!"

The man quickly let go of her, shocked by the dangerous gleam in her bright green eyes. Rachel reached the ambulance, told the driver she was his daughter, and climbed in. When the doors shut behind her and she was alone with her father and a worker, she kneeled helplessly by his side. Rachel's heart wrenched painfully. Her eyes watered at the sight of her father's ghastly body. Since the blanket covered her father's body, Rachel did not see the two bullet wounds through her sheets, only the bullet in his head. Rachel winced, leaned against the vehicle's wall, and shut her eyes. She refused to accept what her heart already knew. Her father, the man who loved her and cared for her, was dead. Tears raced down her cheeks in silent streams.

Not again. No, please God, not again.

Memories came rushing back to her in a painful wave. She remembered that day when they reunited. Her father had accepted her into his arms so easily, despite the fact that he had not known she had existed. He was so much like her Aunt Emily with his caring smile and massive heart. It felt like more than two years that she knew him. How could anyone possibly want such a wonderful man dead?

Rachel felt numb. She wished more than anything that her father could hold her, to console her in his arms. Why hadn't she stayed? She should have been there with him, to protect him, to save him.

After a moment of utter shock, Rachel looked very slowly from the floor, to the stretcher, to the pallid body lying motionless. A fury rose inside her; the same anger she had felt only a few years ago. She trembled against the wall. Clenching her fists, Rachel swore she would find the one who killed her father before he got away.