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(Just Like Smoking)
Anna's black raincoat was already soaked. Her hand was in her pocket, numb fingers tight around the grip of her pistol, body shivering, heart racing. She watched the entrance to Shea's Pub from the alley across the street, the darkness concealing her darkened figure.
How did Nina do it? Did she fight the urge to throw up before a job too? Probably not. Nina would have a solid plan, a foolproof plan, and she wouldn't be standing in the rain, chilled to the bone.
Anna had watched Emmet Walsh, her first mark, walk into the pub nearly an hour earlier, maybe longer. She had looked into Walsh's history and found that he was a businessman, forty-three-year-old bachelor, and all-around hated piece of human filth. As far as she could tell, no one would miss him, and many would be better off without him; but none of that made her feel better about what she needed to do.
Her eyes focused on the pub entrance when she saw movement. A man stepped out and stood under the awning. Walsh walked out behind him. Anna's arms felt heavy. Why couldn't Walsh have walked out alone? The two men stood in front of the entrance, the sound of the rain distorted and muffled their voices, she didn't know what they were saying, but they were clearly arguing.
It must have been minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the other man seemed to grow tired of Walsh and, with a rude gesture, walked back into the pub. Walsh looked like he would walk back inside but shook his head and raised his coat's collar instead. He began the walk in the direction where he had parked his car, his shoulders hunched as he guarded himself against the rain.
Anna stood straight, her back rigid. Her gloved thumb flicked the safety off her gun as she left the alley and followed him, the sound of her footsteps muted by the raindrops pattering the ground. Her heart nearly stopped when a group of four men walked toward her. Her blood pounded in her ears as she looked down, hoping that her hood would conceal her face completely. The men moved to let her pass, but they chatted amongst themselves, their heads down, their steps brisk as they walked toward Shea's entrance.
Anna quickened her steps as she saw Walsh farther ahead than she wanted. He was almost to his car. He stopped under a streetlamp when he reached the grey sedan and put his hand in his pocket. Anna gave the street a quick scan as she neared him. It was empty. The rain was her friend that night.
She pulled the gun out of her pocket when she was a mere foot behind him. With a shaking hand, she aimed to the back of his head and pulled the trigger.
With the silencer and in the rain, almost nothing was heard. Anna watched as Emmett Walsh fell forward and landed face down next to his car.
She didn't stop to assess the damage. She looked straight ahead. Eyes wide, body shaking, walking toward the darkened storefronts, desperate for the cover of a dark alley.
When she spotted a couple walking under an umbrella, she tried to put the gun back in her pocket, but her hand was shaking so violently that it was impossible. She kept the weapon tightly at her side and veered right, walking into an alley. The couple passed by, not even noticing her.
Anna leaned against the wall, her stomach contracting, the feeling of nausea nearly overcoming her. She put her hands on her knees and took a few steadying breaths before making sure the gun's safety was back on. She unscrewed the silencer, put it in the coat's pocket, and then tucked the gun into her belt behind her back.
I'm going to prison.
The mere thought made her feel nauseous again. Doing her best to ignore the feeling, she unbuttoned the raincoat. She turned the garment inside out, revealing the orangy-red lining. She put it back on, shivering as the dripping coat soaked her shirt and pressed onto her skin.
She crossed her arms tightly and checked the area to make sure no one was watching. When she saw no one, she started to walk out of the alley and down the lamp-lit street. Someone was shouting in the distance; maybe they had discovered Walsh. Heart pounding, she quickened her step.
The vehicles on the street were few and far between. When even the pedestrians she encountered paid her no mind, her heartbeat began to slow. She wrapped her arms around herself again, shivering under her wet clothing, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
Anna heard a vehicle behind her, its lights illuminating the way. Her back went rigid. It was much too close. When the car slowed to match her pace, her heart began to beat impossibly fast again. Her hand twitched as she felt the urge to reach behind her back for the gun, but she stopped herself and continued to walk, her gaze focused on the intersection ahead.
She felt a jolt down her spine when she heard the driver speak.
"Girl, do you need help getting home?"
Anna looked down at the ground. "No."
"It's not safe for a woman this time a night, and in this weather." The driver insisted.
She chanced a look at him. The man looked to be in his sixties, maybe younger; it was difficult to tell, the streetlamps weren't giving off much light.
"I live there," she pointed to an apartment building across the street, "my boyfriend was supposed to pick me up after my shift and didn't show, guess where he'll be sleeping for the next month?"
"Be careful then." The man said before rolling up his window and speeding up again.
She didn't feel relief as the man drove away. Instead, she began to worry about how many other people she might encounter. Abut how many more obstacles she'd need to face before reaching the safety of her home.
Walking past the apartment building, she turned right at the intersection and into the safety of a darkened street. She took off the raincoat when she saw a trash bin and pulled the silencer out of the pocket before dropping the coat into the trash. She continued walking ahead, gun tucked behind her back, silencer in hand, feeling soaked to the bone.
When the streetlamps came into view again, she slowed down. She was now in a brightly lit area, close to hotels and businesses. She had parked Nina's BMW near a luxury hotel, where a vehicle like that wouldn't look out of place. Every time she saw a car, her heart nearly stopped. She was thankful that people weren't inclined to help a woman walking alone in the rain in the middle of the night in that part of town.
She almost took off running again when she spotted the car but restrained herself when she heard people laughing nearby. She stopped next to the car and reached into the pocket of her jeans for the key. She unlocked the door with trembling hands and stepped out of the rain and into the vehicle. Her shaking fingers failed to put the key into the ignition the first two tries. When she finally succeeded, she turned the key and immediately began the drive home. She was still wearing wet gloves, still had the gun tucked in her belt, and didn't even realize she'd forgotten to turn the headlights on until she was driving through a darkened street.
The rain had stopped by the time Anna pulled into her own driveway. It was nearly three in the morning. She pulled off the gloves and dropped them onto the passenger seat. Her fingers were numb, her hands so shaky that she didn't even know how she'd managed to drive home.
She stepped out of the car, and when she looked toward the house, she saw Christina standing at the front door wearing a long, silk robe, her hair loose behind her shoulders. She had never looked at Anna like that. There was real anger in her eyes.
"Where have you been?" Christina asked as Anna climbed the front steps.
She walked past, looking straight ahead. "Auntie, please. I just want to go to bed."
Christina closed the door. "Why are you wet?" She gasped. "Why in God's name do you have a gun?"
Anna had forgotten that it was still tucked in her belt. She pulled it out and set it on the end table next to the sofa.
She looked down at the floor. "I was working."
"Oh, Anna," Christina wrapped her arms around her, the anger melting away. "Oh, darling. Did Quinn make you do this?"
"Yes."
"I thought he would ask you to work for him, but I didn't think it would be so soon." Christina pulled the throw blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around Anna's shoulders. "Sit down."
"I'll ruin the sofa. Look at you, Auntie, I got your clothes wet."
"It doesn't matter, sit down and tell me what happened."
Anna told her everything that she had done that night. Every detail that she could remember. Christina listened attentively and asked questions but didn't offer any input until Anna finished speaking.
"Well," Christina patted Anna's hand. "I don't think anyone will come after you. You were careful; I think you will be just fine."
Anna stared at her aunt. "...Fine?" Despite how cold she was, she felt the heat rise in her face. "I just murdered someone. I'm not fine. I can't eat, I can't even sleep, I-"
"I know it seems dire now but-"
"It is dire."
"One day, you'll realize that this profession...it's just like smoking."
Anna shook her head. "What? How?"
"The first time you do it, you're scared that you'll get caught. Even if you're careful, you think that everyone can smell the smoke on you, that they know what you've been doing just by looking at you. But when no one says anything, your mind begins to feel at ease. In time you become better at concealing, and eventually, it's just something you do."
"Just something you do…"
Christina sighed. "I wish I could give you better advice, but our situation being what it is…"
"I've been smoking for nearly a year." Anna felt like an idiot. What a childish thing to say, what stupid thing to confess to after having just committed a murder.
Christina smiled. "I know. It may not seem like it, but I'm very observant."
"Did Father know?"
"No. I didn't think it was my place to tell him."
Anna wished she'd kept that question to herself. Why did it matter if her father knew? She had hated him, and he was dead, but she still wished that he'd given her a modicum of attention. She hated that part of herself, the part that would forever secretly wish for his approval. The part that wondered if he'd be proud of her now.
"Do you miss him?" Anna asked.
Christina gave her a sad smile. "I don't know." She stood up. "I will be right back."
Anna watched her aunt until she disappeared down the hallway toward the kitchen. She moved her gaze to the gun on the end table. She had used it to take a life, to stop a human being from breathing, and her aunt wanted her to think that it was just like smoking.
Anna scoffed. "A bad habit that might eventually kill me."
Christina came back moments later with a glass of water and a small plastic bottle in her hand. "Here," she handed Anna the glass, then opened the bottle and tilted it over her open palm. "Take these," she offered her two small, white pills. "Take a hot shower, and go to bed. You'll feel better after you sleep."
Anna popped the pills into her mouth, drank them down, and then set the glass on the table next to the gun. Every time she looked at it, she remembered Margaret. The way she had put her gun on the end table when she saw her. She would never know if she reached for it in the end.
"All we have now is each other," Christina said as she took Anna's hand and pulled her up. "Don't hesitate to come to me if you need help or advice. Tomorrow, I will give you some things that will make this job easier. But now you need some rest." She kissed her cheek. "Go."
"Thank you, Auntie."
Anna felt exhausted as she walked up the stairs. Maybe Christina was right; maybe she would never get caught. Richard never had, not by the authorities anyway, and Nina was better at her job than their father had ever been, Richard often said so himself. Maybe it would get easier; maybe one day, it really would be just something she did. But that was not how it felt, Anna couldn't imagine a world where killing someone would be easy, but maybe that was how Nina had felt at first.
She tried not to think about it, but she saw Walsh in her mind's eye, slumping forward, falling down. She had not even stopped to look at him, to make sure that the job was done. What if he wasn't dead? It was a ridiculous thought, but it had wormed itself into her. She hoped that the sleeping pills would kick in quickly, and she prayed that she wouldn't dream.
Anna woke up to the sound of knocking on her door. She had a slight headache and felt like she could sleep a couple more hours, but glancing at the clock, she saw that it was already past noon. She got up from her bed, grabbed her robe from the headboard, and slipped it on as she walked.
When she opened the door, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee almost made her think that everything was normal, so did the smile on Christina's face. She stood in the hallway, holding a tray with a cup, a covered plate, and a folded newspaper. Anna's eyes focused on the paper. Nothing was normal; it never would be again.
"Did you sleep well, Anna?"
"Yes, Auntie, thank you."
Christina walked into the room and set the tray on the bedside table. "I thought you could use some fresh coffee. I also went out to Catherine's Bakery and got your favorite scones." She handed Anna the newspaper.
Anna opened it, hands trembling. The story about Walsh was not even on the front page. Anna read it twice before looking up at her aunt. "They have no leads?"
"None." Christina took the newspaper from Anna and began to fold it.
"The best thing to do now is to go about your business as you normally would. I know you can't help that feeling of dread, but I promise you it will eventually fade." She took her hand. "Now eat something. When you're done, I have some things to give you."
Anna did not expect what her aunt had for her. Richard's ledgers. They were written in a code that Anna didn't understand, but Christina taught her how to decipher them. They contained information on contacts, safety deposit boxes, and safe houses around the world. It was everything an assassin could ever need.
Richard had slaved over those ledgers writing meticulous notes, even drawing maps, and now they were hers, not Nina's. She was sure that Nina didn't need them and that it was the reason Christina was giving them to Anna, but it didn't matter; a small part of her was glad to have them. As much as she hated her father, she was a part of him. He had made her, and she had never regretted existing.
Every day, Anna thought about the three men that she had killed. Two in self-defense, one in cold blood. She saw them in her mind's eye, saw the blood all over the Callahan's patio, saw Emmett Walsh slumping forward in the rain. Even so, she did her best to follow Christina's advice to live life as normally as possible.
The first thing she did was write Jennifer a letter telling her that she could not see her for her own safety. It hurt to push her away when she needed her the most, but keeping her alive was more important than anyone's feelings.
Without Jenny, and without school, there was absolutely nothing to do except go shopping. Anna was at her favorite boutique buying everything that her father would never have approved of. A gorgeous faux fur, leopard-print coat caught her eye, and she wasted no time adding it to her purchases.
After paying for the items, she stepped out of the shop and began walking to her car.
"Anna."
She froze at the sound of her name. She turned around slowly and saw Michael, Quinn's nephew leaning against the wall of the boutique. She nodded stiffly as she tried to think of why he would be there...holding a bouquet of red roses.
"Sorry," Michael smiled as he walked toward her. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, um, you didn't."
"I have something for you from my uncle." He handed her the bouquet.
Anna set down her shopping bags and cautiously reached for the flowers. "He wanted you to give me roses." The bouquet felt heavier than she expected. She noticed the corner of an envelope poking out from between the flowers.
Michael gave a short nervous laugh. "No. It's your payment. I thought it would look less suspicious if I gave it to you this way."
"Oh."
Payment. It had not even occurred to Anna that she would be getting paid for killing Walsh. Did that make her more of a terrible person? What was worse? Murdering someone for money, or doing it for free?
Michael laughed again. "Actually, someone else was supposed to give it to you, but I traded jobs with him and thought that the flowers might be a nice way to ask you out for a drink."
Despite everything, Anna smiled. There was something that felt legitimately normal about their interaction, a handsome young man asking her out, giving her flowers on a sunny day.
"I don't know," Anna gave him her best shy smile, "mixing business with pleasure…"
"You're not working for me." Michael leaned in closer to her. "I'll even take you somewhere nice, so you can wear that coat you bought."
"You were watching me?"
He ran his hand over his hair. "I was just trying to make sure that really was you inside the shop."
Anna looked at the flowers in her hands. It had been a long time since anyone had given her roses. "You can pick me up tonight at nine."
His eyes lit up. "Where do you want to go?"
"Surprise me."
He grinned and bent down to pick up her shopping bags. "I'll walk you to your car."
It didn't matter what Michael said; he was Quinn's nephew, and being involved with him was mixing business with pleasure. But he could also be an ally, an asset, or at the very least, a welcome distraction until her eighteenth birthday.
A/N: I know I said there was one more chapter, but I swear, this time there really is only one more.