“OH MY GOD, this book is so dark!” The woman – Anna, Audrey, April, whatever her name is – rolls over and pokes me. “Listen… if I’d stopped to think I might not have done it, but fury is a great disregarder of caution.” She snorts. “Is disregarder even a word?”
I ignore her as I finish putting the weapon together. I would have preferred something more subtle – like a car accident or poisoning – but the client wanted publicity. This would give him publicity. “You talk too much,” I growl. “Pass me the shell, please.”
“I’m just trying to make conversation. She flips her hair and pouts before handing me the ammunition. She’s a blonde, curvy in all the right places but not that pretty in the face. Still, she was the best I could find in the short time I was here. Pickings are slim in this backwater town.
I load the shell and aim at the boat. “Yeah, well, don’t.”
“Jeez, you’re kind of a… ” She covers her ears, her eyes wide with horror at the inferno on the water. “Holy crap, you hit that boat!”
I whip out my knife. Her eyes bulge as her hand flies to her throat. Blood pours down her chest. One solid kick to her gut, and she’s in the lake. I toss the weapon in after her.
God spare me from mouthy women.
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Written for 50 Word Thursday #11.