Skip to content

The Cold Bite of Autumn (pt. 9)

November 16, 2009

>Once in the car, Samantha shrugged off the oversized coat with the floppy hood. Walking was out of the question for a while. Somehow, Daniel had requisitioned crutches for her and they left the hospital in plain sight – she in a wheelchair and Daniel pushing, toting a doting husband’s compliment of suitcases, crutches and make-up bags.

She had to admit he could be very resourceful. Where he came up with all the loot she never figured out. A good field agent would do the same. This worried her. Daniel promised to be more than he appeared.

We’re headed for the mountains, in case you’re wondering,” Daniel said as the car woke to his key.

“Don’t tell me. You just happen to have a cabin up there.”

“No, but I happen to know someone who does and they won’t be using it anytime soon.”

“Do you make it a habit of barging in on other people’s property like that?”

“Only when I need to. This is a need to situation.” Daniel turned the radio down to a whisper and asked, “Why’d you kill them?”

“They had turned.”


“Does it really matter?”

“I suppose not. How long had you worked with them?”

“Four years.”

“Why aren’t you lying? I thought you always lied.”

“What’s the point? I only lie when I need to.” Samantha shifted in the seat. Her ankle ached from all the activity during there ‘escape’ from the hospital.

“So you decided to go out with them. They must have meant something to you.”

“Bastards. They welcomed me into the group. We were going to be rich. No one could touch us. Let the world go to hell while we all sit back, drink heavily and fuck like rabbits.”

“Were you tempted?” Daniel glanced her way. She felt his eyes study her face.

“Yeah.” She lowered her head and muttered, “I was tempted.”

“What made you decide to do the job. I presume you infiltrated them for that purpose.”

“I gathered information I couldn’t live with.”

“What kind of information.”

“Now you want me to lie. Let’s leave it at money, alcohol and sex wouldn’t be enough for me to be able to live with myself. They were into something nasty.”

“Fair enough – for now. We’ll need to hole up a while for your ankle to heal.”

“What about you? You appear to know way too much about my line of work. What’s your story?”

“I kill women.”

She shot a glance his way then felt her face flush when she noticed he’d seen. “Ok, that’s funny.”

“No really. I don’t lie. Women seem to die around me. I suppose it’s my engaging personality.”

“How do they die?”

“Not by my hand. They all seem to … have issues. Drugs, pimps, agents, husbands. You name it, I’ve seen it.”

“A dead babe magnet, eh?” She smiled for the first time.

“It ain’t all that funny lady.”

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Michael Ray King

Book Writing Coach


Jorja DuPont Oliva - Author of the Chasing Butterflies Series

Olde Hippie

I am an Old Hippie learning to write.

Under A Daylight Moon

This site is about poetry.

Engaging Social Media

Facebook Promotion Made Easy

Robin H. Soprano. Author/Writer

Author of soul mates promise


How to get across the Atlantic from one staircase and a ladder.

%d bloggers like this: