She stepped from the kitchen of the bungalow rented indefinitely and onto the sand. A bottle of water in one hand, a book in the other, she was excited to recline in the hammock and watch the sun go down.
Her eleventh sunset since coming to this little island few knew of in the South Pacific.
A quiet place in complete solitude after what felt like a lifetime of hard work.
There were no friends or family with her.
There was no technology.
The locals didn’t speak English.
Nothing but sand beneath her feet, the sound of the surf, and whatever a woman whose name she’d been forced to shorten to Dina because she kept pronouncing it wrong brought her.
They didn’t understand her words but they understood her currency and the things she’d been told to bring to barter.
Never a good cook, she finally made it clear what she wanted and the woman pointed at stacked boxes in the corner of the bungalow. Holding up one finger, she walked to them and removed a swath of fabric with vibrant print. Running her hand over it, she smiled.
She didn’t know how long the bolt of fabric would keep the woman coming back but she’d offered her another when several days went by with a fresh meal of local fare delivered daily.
She’d come to the island with three dozen such fabrics in different designs as well as needles, thread, and various items to make jewelry.
The “travel agent” who arranged her trip and necessary documents with a frown explained that the women of the island exported their goods for astronomical rates to surrounding resorts on other islands. They prized supplies to make them highly.
“May I ask why you’re going to such a place? There are better…”
Removing a small-caliber weapon, she shot him in the forehead. “No, you may not ask.”
Collecting her information, she wiped his computer and cell phone. Starting a small fire in his trash can, she left highly flammable materials around it.
By the time the cab carried her a mile away, she could see a thin plume of smoke rising into the clear sky.
For twenty years, she’d been a highly trained and incredibly successful assassin. She couldn’t risk anyone tracking her. A man like the one she’d eliminated would easily sell the information to the first person who asked.
Now, she didn’t have to worry about it.
A reprieve from the hustle and bustle of her old job was long overdue.
Killing people was exhausting. Particularly in the modern world. She’d had to get ever more creative in her methods.
As she watched the sun lower in the sky of her new home, she sighed. It was good to have time off at last.
© Shayne McClendon
PS: You can find all my books on Amazon (there are more than four dozen of them). Look for dramatic romance under Shayne McClendon, paranormal romance under Sabrina Rue, and m/m erotica under Charlize Rojos (not for the faint of heart).