Free Story: The Hitman Chronicles: A Woman Scorned

Alderson, West Virginia
Alderson Federal
Prison Camp
Three Months Ago

“Are you certain you want to go through with this?” Jonathan asked.

Staring through the thick glass at him, Miriam Lefker said, “You know Jonathan, I’ve been trying to figure out why you look so different to me today, and it just came to me. I’ve never seen you without a necktie. Not in thirty-two years.”

Jonathan smiled at her through the thick glass and said, “Well Miriam, things are different now.”

Jonathan was their estate manager. Well, he had been, when they had an estate. That was before the Federal Government froze their assets. It was before the Ponzi scheme that made Lenny and her hundreds of millions of dollars came apart. And it was before Lenny abandoned her and disappeared, and before her humiliating arrest and trial, and before she was convicted and sentenced to spend what would likely be the rest of her life in prison.

She was sixty-three years old, and didn’t think that she deserved to die caged up like an animal, at least not alone. But Lenny had seen things coming apart before she did, and he’d abandoned her. After forty years of marriage, he’d left her to face arrest alone. He’d run away with his little blonde tramp and left her to rot alone.

Miriam felt like a fool, but not a complete fool. Over the years she’d put a little money aside, just in case something happened. It always paid to have a little cookie jar money stashed away. Her cookie jars were bank accounts around the world, held under false identities. She had a few million in her cookie jars – a pauper’s coffer – but it was enough to pay private investigators to find that son of a bitch Lenny. Even though he’d changed his name and changed his face with plastic surgery, they’d found him.

She was sitting here alone, rotting in prison, and Lenny was free, free to breathe fresh air and bask under a warm sun with his little blonde tramp.

That son of a bitch.

Miriam pressed the phone tight against her mouth, stared through the glass at Jonathan and said, “Yes, I want to go through with it. And Jonathan, however you make it happen, I want it known that he has to suffer. I want him to suffer.”



Kailua-Kona,Oahu, Hawaii
Kona Coast Resort Hotel

That looks so tacky, Nikira thought.

She was naked in front of the hotel suite’s dresser mirror, checking herself out as she did her morning stretches. Thanks to a Clairol rinse, her long ebony hair was a deep copper hue, but down there it was still coal black. This wouldn’t be cute if I was on a hot date.

When they were in Japan she’d once put on a blonde wig to give Duncan something different to play with. He’d laughed at her because she was blonde up top and black down below. So she’d run into the bathroom and got rid of the hair down there. He’d liked that, a lot. So after that, she made sure she kept her kitty clean shaven for him.

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?

Nikki wondered if Duncan’s wife did that for him. The way Maisha looked at him, like she’d lick his spit off the sidewalk, she probably did. She’d probably shave her fucking head if he wanted her to.

Fucking bitch.

Nikki stopped stretching. For several minutes she stood as still as a statue, staring at her reflection, into her own eyes with her mind empty. Sometimes she had to do this, to go away from herself to still the rage that threatened to take control of her spirit. Sometimes she had to hide from herself.

After a while she blinked and came back to herself. She felt better. She felt that the rage was gone. But as she padded to the shower the rage came back a little, wearing its false smile. The rage whispered into her mind’s ear, and made her smile, too.

Now that would be fun.

As Nikki Horikoshi showered and got ready to go take care of the contract, she played the idea over and over in her mind like a favorite scene from a movie: Her and Duncan playing together.

That would be so nice, she thought, if they could kill Maisha together.


Mindy was running on the treadmill when Steve Benton entered Lenny’s home gym. The bodyguard checked her out as he went over to the free weights. No, she wasn’t running, she was galloping.

A thoroughbred filly, he thought.

Her blonde ponytail bobbed behind her. Her boobs bounced in her sports bra in sync with her long strides. The boobs were fake, paid for by his boss Lenny, but they looked good on her Barbie doll body. Mindy’s rock hard abs glistened with sweat. The muscles in her long, tanned legs pulsed with her efforts. She had her iPod buds crammed into ears on which diamond studs glittered. She seemed oblivious to everything but her music and her workout.

Steve checked himself out in the mirrored wall as he strode to the incline bench. He thought his build was like Stallone’s in his Rocky days. Of course with his Hawaiian tan and ash blonde hair he knew he was way more handsome than that grease ball.

Yo, Adrienne!

He looked back toward the treadmill. Mindy saw him now. She cut him a half smile and refocused on her workout. Even though she was thirty years old, when Lenny was around she acted like a ditzy, empty-headed teenager. But when Lenny wasn’t around she was all business. No time for bullshit.

Even though she wasn’t looking at him anymore Steve smiled back.

Yo, Mindy! Want some morning cock?

Lenny had done what he called a workout last night, damn near killing himself to press up ten reps of sixty pounds. If the old fuck hadn’t been trying to impress his gold digging girlfriend he wouldn’t have bothered exercising at all.

Steve added a couple hundred pounds to the bar to warm his muscles up and lay on the bench. He was on his second set of ten when out of the corner of his eye he saw her reflection in the mirror, stepping over the rubber mat toward his bench. He smiled and racked the barbell.

She stood over him, dripping her sweat onto his forehead. “Is he up yet?” she gasped.

She was Lenny’s mistress, but they had separate bedrooms. The old fuck did more looking at his kept Barbie doll than touching her.

Steve said, “He took a pill late. He probably won’t start creaking around until lunchtime.”

Now Mindy smiled at him for real. “Want a spotter?” she asked. Without waiting for his answer she stepped forward, wide-legged, and straddled his face.

Steve looked up. Her gym shorts – which were little more than a thong – were drenched with her perspiration. A part of him wanted to get pissed off by her arrogant conceit. Mindy knew she was hot. She expected that he’d be happy to get at her pussy even if it was sweat-funky.

As he looked up, she reached between her legs and pulled her shorts aside, showing him her stuff.

She thought he’d want her even when she was funky.

She was right.

“Yeah, gimme a spotter,” he said.

Mindy squatted and fed him her wet funk.


“Ah fuck!” Mindy gasped. “Know what I want?”

Steve’s answer came out as a muffled “Mmph?” because Mindy’s pussy was pressed down onto his mouth and his nose was squashed against her asshole.

She said, “I want to sixty-nine right here. I want to suck your cock while you eat me.”

She was about to lean under the bar to go after his meat, but suddenly she straightened up, stood up and said, “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Steve felt a bolt of dread shoot through his chest. Oh fuck, they were busted. The old bastard had caught them. Steve straightened up, ready to walk out because he didn’t want to hear the old cocksucker’s mouth. But then he saw that it wasn’t Lenny walking across the gym toward them.

The woman wore a snow white tennis dress, white sneakers and a white visor cap. Large dark sunglasses hid most of her face. She had one hand behind her back as she approached. Steve noticed that on her visible hand she wore a white cotton glove, the kind little girls and old ladies wore to church. Her complexion made him figure she was a local.

Mindy said again, “What the fuck are you doing in here? This is a private residence!”

The woman stopped about ten feet away. She brought her hidden hand from around her back. She had a gun in that gloved hand.

Steve’s first thought was that she was police, and that they’d caught up to Lenny and had come to haul his ass off to jail for his crimes. But then he saw the silencer on the weapon. Cops didn’t use silencers.

Still sitting on the weight bench, Steve raised his hands and said, “There’s a safe, but we don’t have the combination. The owner knows it. There’s money and jewelry. Don’t shoot, okay?”

The gun took away all of Mindy’s bravado. She sobbed, “Please don’t hurt us…please.”

Now the woman looked at Mindy. She said, “Mindy, I have to hurt you. Actually, Miriam wanted me to kill you in front of Lenny, but I see you’re busy, and he’s tied up right now anyway. So I’ll just tell him that I shot you in your face.”

And then she did it. She raised the gun, and Steve heard a sound like a metallic clank –louder than he thought it would be – and then a thump behind him as Mindy collapsed to the mat.

He looked around, and in spite of the danger he was in, had the crazy thought that Mindy’s head wasn’t empty after all. The evidence of that was sliding down the mirrored wall, leaving a red trail in its wake.

He looked back at the woman and said, “Look, please…I’m just the bodyguard, okay? I didn’t even know him before he came to the island. I’m just the bodyguard.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Steve. Steve Benton. I’m just the bodyguard. I won’t talk, I swear.”

The woman said, “Well Steve, you suck as a bodyguard, so you’re relieved of duty.”

Steve was going to beg some more, but the gun clanked at him and cancelled his intended plea.


Nikira went back up to the target’s bedroom to finish the contract. Lenny Lefker was as she’d left him: Spread-eagled on his four-poster bed, bound by his wrists and ankles with piano wire to the bedposts.

He’d struggled to get free while she was gone. His wrists and ankles dripped blood where the wire had cut into his leathery skin. When he saw her he moaned into his gag.

She’d left a duffel gym bag on the floor next to the bed. She retrieved more piano wire from the bag and climbed on the bed. As she scooted over the sheets toward the target she said, “Okay Lenny, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you should know. I just caught good old Steve the bodyguard down in the gym, snacking on Mindy’s pussy like it was an energy bar.”

Lenny made a muffled sound behind the gag.

As Nikira lifted his head and looped the wire around his neck she said, “I know, right? It’s so hard to find good help these days. Anyway, I knew you’d be upset with her, so I shot her in her pretty face.” She patted Lenny’s cheek and said, “That’ll teach her, huh? Oh, and I did Steve, too. In my opinion, he just wasn’t a very competent bodyguard for you. That’s just a feeling I have.”

She pulled the wire tight enough to bite into his neck. A pink line formed around the wire, and then became a ring of blood around his throat. Then she tied each end of the wire around the headboard posts, pulling it taut. “There we go Lenny, nice and snug.” She plucked the wire, and Lenny groaned his pain into the gag.

Nikira climbed off the bed. “Okay Lenny, here’s the deal: The more you move, the more the wires will cut into you. If you move too much, you’re going to end up cutting through vital veins, and maybe even your jugular. So you probably don’t want to get too frisky. But the thing is Lenny, Miriam is really mad at you. She said you owe her big time, and now it’s time to pay. She said that you suffer from musophobia – a fear of mice and rats. Is that true, Lenny?”

Nikira leaned to the bag and lifted out the cage. She held it up for the target to see.

It had taken her a couple of days to find the rat. It was a big one, about a foot long not counting its tail. Its fur was dull gray. Its long segmented tail was the fleshy pink of a fresh-scraped wound.

Now Lenny’s eyes grew so wide they looked about to pop. He screamed behind the gag, and his body trembled his terror as he struggled not to move. Still, even his trembling made the wires bite deeper into his flesh. Now his neck, wrists and ankles were ringed with slow dripping blood.

Nikira sat the cage between Lenny’s spread legs, with its door facing his privates. She said, “This is nasty work, Lenny. It really is. But this is the way your wife wanted it. She said she wanted you in Hell before you really went to Hell.”

Nikira pulled the cage door open, and then pulled the comforter up and over Lenny’s head. She hurried around the bed, tucking the comforter under the mattress as tightly as she could.

Lenny’s screams and thrashing told her that the rat was on the move. She straightened up to see. Poor Lenny was thrashing so hard that she couldn’t tell where the rodent was.

And then, just like that, his cries turned into a choking gurgle. He was still thrashing though, and now she could see the moving lump of the rat, moving around Lenny’s midsection.

Nikira peeled the cover down to the target’s shoulders, and saw blood gushing from his severed jugular. She watched as Lenny’s thrashing subsided to shudders as he bled out, and then back down to trembling, and then the only thing moving under the comforter was the rat. It was near one of Lenny’s ankles, probably attracted by the scent of blood. She figured it would enjoy a nice feast until the cleaning lady showed up tomorrow.


Nikki left the estate feeling troubled. She couldn’t decide if she should rinse the color out of her hair, or leave it in and shave her kitty. Or, what if she colored her hair down there so it matched her head? No, that wouldn’t be a good look.

Okay, so either wash it out or shave.

As she slid behind the wheel of the rental car Nikki let out a big sigh. Sometimes life could be so stressful.

The Hitman Chronicles: A Woman Scorned
© 2010

This is an outtake from the first draft of my forthcoming novel The Hitman Chronicles.  The series has been years in building, but it’s coming soon.


  1. Black… I have to say that The Hitman Chronicles are my absolute favorite stories. I said it before Nikita is the truth!!!!!! 2012 can’t get here fast enough!!!!!!!

    Question didn’t you recently post some insight into Duncan’s grandfather??? The name of the story escapes

  2. Sorry I meant Nikira!!!!

    • Hi Stace: You might be thinking about my Western story, “The Legend of The Black Gun,” which featured an ancestor of Duncan’s.

      “The Hitman Chronicles” is my favorite too.

  3. Well damn. She went from taking someone out to thinking about how to manicure her bush. Awesome story!

  1. Pingback: New Free Story: The Hitman Chronicles: A Woman Scorned « Theblackwriter's Blog

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