The Playboy's Assassin

Red Haired Wench: Enrique.

“Gross.” She grimaced and I stared at the mess I’d made on the rug. This is the scariest and most embarrassing night of my life.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized quickly and she rolled her eyes.

“That’s it!” she raised the gun again.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I shouted, holding my hands out in front of me. “Please don’t kill me.”

“What did you do?” she asked, still not dropping the gun.

“What?”

“What crime did you commit for someone to want to kill you because honestly, I find you too pathetic to waste a bullet on you,” she gave me a condescending look.

Should I take that as a compliment?

“I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

“You must’ve done something for someone to put a price on your head.” She c****d her head to the side, giving me a once over.

It was extremely weird having this conversation with her while sitting in my pee but I was scared shitless enough not to move. The bullet hole in the headboard above me was warning enough.

“I swear to God, I didn’t do anything.” I’ve never offended anyone in my life and I had no enemies. Why would anyone be trying to kill me? I’m too lovable. Her words finally clicked in my head and I licked my lips.

“I can pay you.” I blurted out and she raised a brow. “Whatever it is you were paid, I can offer you double,” the brow went higher. “I’ll pay you triple.”

“I was paid a million dollars to kill you,” she said deadpan and my eyes widened.

Wow, that’s a lot of money.

“Am I worth that much?” I asked and she narrowed her eyes at me. I could tell her patience was wearing thin already.

“I don’t have three million dollars,” I admitted. “But I can pay you half, I can give you all my life’s savings just please don’t kill me. I’m too young to die.”

As if peeing on myself wasn’t embarrassing enough, I cried. The tears fell like a never-ending waterfall. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Geez, you’re pathetic.” She grimaced. She moved back and sat down on the lounge chair in the room, her eyes on me. “If you’re going to pay me, you might as well do it now.”

I got up and glanced at Araceli’s still unconscious body on the bed but saw no bullet holes.

“Relax. She’s not dead, just unconscious,” she said and that’s when I finally saw the tranquillizer dart on her neck. “This on the other hand is going to kill you,” she continued, raising her gun.

I looked around the room in search of my phone and my eyes landed on my pants a few meters away from me. "I'm just going to get my phone," I pointed at the pants.

"You know what," she got off the chair and advanced towards me. "I've changed my mind." She raised the gun and I flinched. "Give me the watch on your wrist."

I looked down at the gold watch on my wrist. It was a Patek Philippe given to me by my grandfather for my birthday two years ago. That was the last gift he gave me before our falling out. I hesitated.

"Are you going to give it or not? I don't have all night." 

 I took the watch off and swallowed. Parting with it was like giving away a part of me. I never took it off. I threw it at her and she caught it, pocketed it and raised her gun again. My heart lurched in panic. "What are you doing? That wasn't the deal." 

"I'm not going to kill you. I'll just give you a little scratch to make this believable." And then she shot me.

*****

I woke up in a hospital. At first, everything was a blur, I couldn't remember how I had gotten there. Then it all came back to me. I sprang upright and groaned at the excruciating pain that coursed through my chest. 

"Easy, easy," Diego said. "You don't want to hurt yourself more than you already have." He gently pushed me back on the bed. 

"How did I get here?" I asked. "Don't you remember? You called me. You called me and were mumbling something about assassins and getting shot. I found you passed out on the floor and brought you here."

 I couldn't remember calling him but if he said I did then I probably did. I pushed off the bed and winced at the pain in my arm. I looked down at the sling my arm was in. She had shot me in the shoulder. I had given up my most prized possession and she had shot me in the shoulder. That red-haired wench! 

"What happened?" Diego asked. 

"An assassin got into my apartment, that's what happened. She said she had been paid to kill me and she shot Araceli." 

"Who's Araceli?" He frowned. I sighed, knowing what was going to follow my explanation. Diego was a cop and my best friend. He was a sworn celibate who found my passion for women disgusting. "She was my companion for the night. I met her at a club." 

"Hmm," he stroked his beard. "And did you know this Araceli before last night?"

I could feel a reprimand coming on. "No. As I said, I met her at the club–"

"And then you decided to bring her back to your apartment, someone you knew nothing of," he shook his head. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if your brain is in your pants. She could've been the one who led the assassin to you. Did you think of that?" 

Araceli? I didn't think so. She was too innocent looking. Okay, maybe not innocent. She was hot and had a banging body. She was also a brainless twit who could never have orchestrated an assassination. "Araceli is not that kind of girl, trust me. She could never have been the one."

"What's Araceli's last name?" he raised a brow. 

"Who the hell cares about last names? It was a hookup, not a date. I saw her, thought she was hot and wanted to f**k her. That was all." 

He groaned like I was exasperating. "I'm going to get coffee. I was awake all night watching you in case your assailant decided to come to finish the job."

"You were?" I frowned. 

"Yes, I was and I shouldn't have because you brought this on yourself. Your lifestyle is going to get you into trouble one day. I just hope it wouldn't be soon." 

After dropping that very useless advice, he stormed out. I took a deep breath and let it out. It wouldn't take him long to come back in a better temperament. He was a sour puss when he hadn't had his morning coffee. Though I must say he had outdone himself, he had gotten me my own bed in my own room and not one of those community rooms where your only modicum of privacy was a curtain separating you from the next patient. I got off the bed and went into the restroom to pee. It was awkward and uncomfortable doing it with one hand.

I cursed leather girl again for putting me in such a predicament after swindling me of my watch. It was worth more than a hundred thousand dollars and was also my most expensive possession. I sat on the bed and picked up the remote on the cabinet beside me. It was too quiet in here. 

I turned the TV on and scrolled through the channels before getting to a piece of news that piqued my interest. Famous YouTube blogger Enrique Capone was attacked at his apartment in the early hours of the morning, the headline read. They even had a picture of me where I was smiling at the camera. Now, I was scowling. Famous YouTube blogger. What was the essence of being famous when I had no money? Fame was certainly not paying my bills. I should've pawned off that watch weeks ago when I had the chance, instead, I had held on to sentiments. 

"Enrique Capone was attacked at his apartment in the early hours of this morning. The injury was however not fatal and he's currently recuperating in the hospital. Hopefully, he would recover soon and would be back to making videos that we all love–" Diego chose that moment to make his comeback.

"How did the press find out about my attack?" I asked immediately he stepped foot into the room. 

"Well, how would I know? I don't work with the press," he took a sip of his coffee and smiled. "A few of your neighbours saw me carrying you out of your apartment." 

I gasped. "Please tell me they didn't take pictures." That would be the most horrifying thing ever. 

"Aah…" He trailed off. "Okay, I won't tell you?" He frowned. 

I groaned. "Please tell me I at least looked good in the pictures. I wasn't looking like someone who had gotten shot and had peed himself."

He lifted a brow. "You were shot and had been lying in your urine and yes you did look horrible." 

I quailed. "Oh my goodness! That wouldn't look good to my fans. Quick, pass me your phone." He shook his head at me and sighed. 

"Honestly, Enrique, whenever I think you've managed to grow a brain you somehow end up disappointing me," he grabbed the remote out of my hands and sat on my bed, then changed the channel to BDC news. 

"That picture is going to go viral and it would be the end of my career." I cringed just thinking about all the nasty comments awaiting me. Why did this have to happen to me? And after becoming the fifth most sought after bachelor. There's no doubt I would've dropped down to the top thirty now. His countenance changed all of a sudden and he clenched his jaw, glaring at the TV. The reporter was talking about a Duke that was murdered in a theatre some weeks ago along with his bodyguards and a model. Then a blurry picture of the suspect came up, a picture that had been released by the police as the notorious criminal they were on the hunt for. Upon closer inspection of the picture, I realised I knew who it was. It was leather girl. My face paled.

 "Oh s**t! I know her. She was the one who shot me," I blurted out.