The Contract: Kill Jessica White Read online

  THE CONTRACT: KILL JESSICA WHITE

  By

  REMINGTON KANE

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE CONTRACT: KILL JESSICA WHITE

  First edition. December 26, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Remington Kane.

  Written by Remington Kane.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

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  CHAPTER 1 – The delay

  CHAPTER 2 – The contract

  CHAPTER 3 – The refusal

  CHAPTER 4 – Accidents will happen

  CHAPTER 5 – Look, but don’t touch

  CHAPTER 6 – Pro bono

  CHAPTER 7 – Keeping watch

  CHAPTER 8 – No rest for the wicked

  CHAPTER 9 – Out in the open

  CHAPTER 10 – Let’s make a deal

  CHAPTER 11 – Ice ice baby

  CHAPTER 12 – Party ‘til you drop

  CHAPTER 13 – I know something you don’t know

  CHAPTER 14 – One of us

  CHAPTER 15 – Work can wait

  CHAPTER 16 – Nice night for a walk

  CHAPTER 17 – Taken!

  CHAPTER 18 – Tricky

  CHAPTER 19 – Reconnaissance

  CHAPTER 20 – The eyes have it.

  CHAPTER 21 – A predator and a shadow

  CHAPTER 22 – Kick ‘em where it hurts

  CHAPTER 23 – The ole shoe trick 2

  CHAPTER 24 – First come, first kill

  CHAPTER 25 – Gant?

  CHAPTER 26 – Fire and ice

  CHAPTER 27 – Glass and fire

  CHAPTER 28 – Number 12

  CHAPTER 29 – She should have paid

  CHAPTER 30 – Turnabout

  CHAPTER 31 – To the death

  CHAPTER 32 – Ice man

  CHAPTER 33 – Not a finger!

  CHAPTER 34 – Triumphant trio

  CHAPTER 35 – Thicker than water

  COMING SOON!

  A PLEA

  ALSO BY REMINGTON KANE

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  Further Reading: Occupation: Death

  This book is dedicated to Gail, my faithful fan, aka "G"

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  REMINGTON KANE

  http://www.remingtonkane.com/contact.html

  THE CONTRACT: KILL JESSICA WHITE

  The events in this book take place between

  TANNER 11 – Tanner Times Two & TANNER 12 – Occupation: Death

  It also takes place between the events in

  TAKEN! 16 – Taken! – Michael & TAKEN! 17 – Taken! - Bedeviled

  CHAPTER 1 – The delay

  While he was headed for a clandestine meeting in the Nevada desert off U.S. Route 50, Tanner was attacked by a man with a rifle.

  Tanner brought the jeep he was driving to an abrupt stop after having caught sight of sunlight reflecting off glass. The jeep had its top removed and Tanner had a clear view of the surrounding terrain.

  When he stared up at the ridge where the shot came from, he saw the silhouette of two figures, and one of them was holding what appeared to be a rifle.

  An instant later, the sound of a shot came as the sand three yards in front of him plumed into the air.

  Before the sand had settled, Tanner had the jeep in reverse and had backed it up and over the edge of a sand dune that would offer protection from the sniper.

  Tanner realized that he must have stumbled across something illegal and that the participants were willing to kill to keep it a secret. Either that or the sniper was simply out to kill anything that crossed his path just for the hell of it.

  In any event, the sniper’s reasons didn’t matter. What mattered was killing the man and his friend and ending their threat, but first, Tanner had to survive.

  The dune he had driven behind gave him cover from the sniper atop the ridge but was only about fifty feet long. All around it was open desert, with the next opportunity for cover a larger sand dune, which was some distance away.

  He could use the jeep for cover, but the sniper wasn’t alone and he would soon find himself caught in a crossfire.

  Tanner could also make a run with the jeep and hope that the man with the rifle was a poor shot, but again, the man wasn’t alone and Tanner didn’t have enough information to know what weapons or skills the men possessed.

  He could flee the sniper and wind up running into the man’s partner, or, the sniper could damage the jeep with gunfire and then he would die once they opened up on him.

  There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, and so Tanner decided that he would stay where he was.

  The sniper would come to him eventually, and most likely before nightfall. If the sniper made no move on him before the sun went down, the sniper would lose all advantage and Tanner could slip away in the dark on foot, or better yet, creep up on the sniper and kill him and his friend.

  Tanner figured that the sniper wouldn’t wait and was likely already closing in for the kill. Whoever was wielding the rifle had no patience.

  Had they waited only a few seconds longer before raising their rifle to take a shot at him, he would have been much closer to their position and away from the cover of the dunes.

  That told Tanner that he was dealing with an amateur at killing.

  Tanner was not an amateur when it came to killing.

  In fact, he was the best killer that had ever lived, but in order to practice his art once more he would first have to find a way to stay alive.

  Behind the shelter of the sand dune, Tanner drove the jeep in a tight random pattern that would disrupt the sand over a wide area. Once that was done, he backed the jeep into the center of the jumble of tire tracks.

  There was half a bottle of water sitting in a cup holder. After drinking the remaining liquid, Tanner used his knife to cut a hole in the bottom of the bottle. When that was done, he cut off a wide section of cloth from the hem of his shirt and divided it into several pieces.

  With those tasks accomplished, Tanner grabbed the plastic shopping bag he had been using to hold the garbage he’d accumulated during his journey. He held the bag by its bottom and gave it a vigorous shaking, so that the food wrappers, milk cartons, and other debris settled around the exterior of the jeep.

  Among the garbage, there were several additional empty water bottles. The one he had cut the bottom out of would blend in with the rest of the trash, some of which had scattered beneath the vehicle, which had a high ground clearance. To this rubbish, he added the pieces of cloth cut from the bottom of his shirt.

  Tanner then ripped the door off the glovebox and dropped to the ground beside the jeep by falling on his stomach, while being careful not to leave a boot print in the sand. He then shimmied beneath the jeep and, using the glovebox door as a shovel, began digging.

  After he had dug down about ten inches, and somewhat deeper on the low end, he lowered himself inside the depression and managed to turn onto his back, but it cost him a burn on his wrist from the muffler.

  Once he was lying inside the hole, he began pulling the sand on top of himself.

  There was almost no breeze in the hot desert air and so he didn’t have to pile it up high for fear that it would blow off. Tanner simply needed to cover himself enough to blend in and go unnoticed.

  However, he did stack extra sand atop his left side in a heap. He would need it.

  With his feet dug in and his legs and torso covered, Tanner placed the water bottle in his mouth with its open bottom sticki
ng up. Then, wads of tissue were placed in his ears and nostrils as protection against the sand.

  With that done, Tanner shut his eyes tight and covered his face, neck, and right arm, and shoulder with sand. His gun was gripped in his right hand and Tanner forced it into the sand as deep as he could.

  With all but his left arm covered, Tanner cautiously tilted his right side upward, and was rewarded by feeling the extra sand stacked precariously on his left side fall over. He could feel the sand as it covered his arm, but it wasn’t perfect. From the way it felt, he was certain that part of his shoulder was still visible.

  One piece of luck was with him, in that the shirt he was wearing was nearly the same color of the sand that surrounded it. Hopefully it blended in well, but if it were noticed, it would likely be taken as just another piece of the cloth that was already lying atop the sand.

  Tanner steadied his breathing and used the bottle to suck in air, while trying not to move at all.

  Beneath the sand, the sun, and the hot undercarriage of the jeep, he was quickly becoming dehydrated.

  He couldn’t hear well, and with his eyes shut tight against the sand, he couldn’t see. Twenty minutes after burying himself, Tanner thought that he heard someone shouting. He stayed as still as he was able and waited.

  ***

  The man who had shot at Tanner was named Willy Rudnick, and he and his cousin Rodger Rudnick walked around Tanner’s jeep while scratching their heads in confusion.

  The two men were tall and rangy with scraggly beards and matching Grateful Dead T-shirts. Willie was wearing denim shorts while Rodger wore a pair of raggedy black cargo pants that were gray from repeated washings.

  “Where the hell did he go?” Willy yelled out in frustration.

  Roger looked around while shaking his head.

  “I don’t see one damn shoe print, and what’s with all the garbage?”

  “He’s out here somewhere and we have to find him, or else he’ll bring back the cops.”

  Roger laughed.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere and the guy’s on foot. It shouldn’t be hard to catch up to him.”

  Willy pointed towards the top of the sand dune. They had left their ATV parked on the other side of it before closing in on the jeep.

  “You take our ride while I use this jeep and we’ll check out that other sand dune over there. That must be where he is.”

  Roger agreed and began to climb up the dune. Willy started the jeep and was a hundred feet away when the bullet entered his back.

  ***

  When Tanner heard the sound he’d been waiting for, the starting of the jeep’s engine, he readied himself for action.

  The instant the sound grew fainter, Tanner sat up, vigorously brushed the sand from his face, and raised his gun.

  He was still breathing through the plastic bottle when he shot Willy in the back. He then spat it out and, while tasting sand that was mixed with his own sweat, he looked about for the second man.

  Rodger had just reached the top of the dune and Tanner sent a shot his way. The bullet missed as Rodger dived and rolled down the other side of the dune.

  Meanwhile, Willy appeared to be in agony. He had crashed the jeep into the base of the sand dune after being shot, and had then tumbled out of the jeep.

  Tanner rose from the sand and headed over to Willy. As he ran, he extracted the tissue from his ears and nose, and then rubbed at the sand coating his sweaty face.

  After a quick pat down, he then ignored Willy, while taking the wounded man’s rifle and heading for the top of the dune.

  Roger had made it to the ATV and was driving away in a zigzagging pattern.

  After checking the rifle and finding it fully loaded, Tanner sighted in on Roger through the gun’s scope.

  His first shot missed as Roger spun the wheel at the last instant, But Tanner’s second shot hit home and, through the scope, he saw a red halo bloom from Rodger’s head.

  The ATV stopped moving, with Roger’s body hanging half in and half out of it.

  Tanner then used the scope to check for signs of others and found none.

  When he returned to the jeep, he saw that Willy had died. There was no exit wound so Tanner’s shot must have caused massive internal bleeding.

  After downing two bottles of water, Tanner stripped Willy of his shirt and used it to clean what little blood had gotten on the interior of the jeep. The crash into the sand dune had caused no damage to the vehicle and Tanner drove off, leaving Willy for the vultures.

  A few minutes later, Tanner found the men’s base at the foot of the ridge. It was an old shack with a pickup truck parked beside it, and they had been using the shack as a place to cook meth.

  After washing himself free of sand with water from a 5-gallon jug, Tanner made a quick search of Willy and Rodger’s belongings and found a stash of money.

  Tanner was three grand richer and had Willy’s rifle. The meth held no interest for him.

  He left Willy and Rodger’s meth empire there for the cops to eventually discover, and was soon on his way.

  He had business of his own to get to and hoped that he wouldn’t encounter any other minor delays.

  CHAPTER 2 – The contract

  After leaving the home of his mentor, Spenser Hawke, in Wyoming, Tanner had traveled to Nevada while on his way to Los Angeles.

  He was there to meet a former contact named Jim Horrigan.

  Horrigan was a man whom Tanner once used as a go-between when dealing with clients. He’d left a message for Tanner on an old email account that Tanner hadn’t used in years.

  Tanner had stumbled across Horrigan’s message while browsing the web during his downtime at Spenser’s home, after returning from Mexico. He was surprised to see that there were sixteen messages in the dormant account.

  The other fifteen messages were all spam, and none were newer than two years old, however, Horrigan had left a message for Tanner in the draft file that was only six days old. By drafting a message and never sending it, there was no record of an email. Tanner added his reply to the draft and when he checked back hours later, he saw that Horrigan had also added to the draft and agreed on the time and place for their meeting.

  Tanner then discarded the draft and the two of them had communicated without leaving an email trail behind. If one or the other would like to start a new conversation, they would simply draft a new email, but never send the draft copy.

  When he first read the message, Tanner thought that perhaps Horrigan was trying to meet with him in order to make a play for the multi-million dollar bounty that Alonso Alvarado had placed on his head.

  He soon dismissed that motivation, because Jim Horrigan would know that such an attempt would be suicide.

  Later, he thought of another reason why Horrigan might be making contact after so long a time. The man could be helping Ariana O’Grady.

  Horrigan was from Colorado and had grown up near the small town of O’Grady Colorado. It was possible that he had known Ariana’s father, Hank O’Grady, and might want to help the late rancher’s daughter out of a sense of friendship.

  Horrigan’s stated reason was that he had work for Tanner, a contract, and Tanner hoped that it was the truth.

  While he wasn’t ready to go gunning for the hard target that Burke was lining up for him, he would be willing to take on a less complicated hit.

  Alexa wouldn’t be joining him in L.A. for several more days and Tanner needed something to fill the time.

  It was unlikely that anything would be agreed to however, because Tanner was finished with working for small change.

  From now on, his services began at a million dollars, and there had to be some challenge involved as well.

  If Horrigan’s client could meet those two criteria, well then fine, Tanner would take the contract and get back to work.

  ***

  When Tanner met Horrigan out in the Nevada desert, in a spot where Tanner could see for miles around. He thought that the man had ag
ed badly.

  It was not surprising considering that Horrigan was a drug addict.

  Their association had ended because of Horrigan’s cocaine addiction, but Horrigan had assured Tanner that he hadn’t used drugs for years.

  Horrigan greeted Tanner with a yellow-toothed grin. He was dressed in a pair of old jeans, scuffed boots, and a plain white T-shirt that was tucked into the pants. The T-shirt had a pocket with a satellite phone stuffed into it, and Horrigan was holding a large brown envelope in his left hand.

  Tanner made a swirling gesture with his index finger pointed downward.

  It took Horrigan a moment to get it, but then he lifted his arms and spun around slowly, so Tanner could see that there was no gun tucked into the waistband at his back.

  “You always were careful, Tanner, and damn if you don’t look good. Mexico agreed with you.”

  “How did you know I was in Mexico, Jim?”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve become sort of an urban legend on the Internet—Tanner, the man who faced a cartel and won.”

  “Yeah, but they’ll forget all about me once somebody puts up a new cat video. Now tell me about this contract you mentioned.”

  Horrigan reached for the phone in the pocket of his T-shirt.

  “Before we get to the details, the client wants to know your price. It’s a high-profile target, and what with your new fame, I told him that you wouldn’t come cheap. So what’s your price?”

  “One million dollars.”

  Horrigan laughed.

  “Yeah, right, but really Tanner, what should I tell them?”

  “One million, Jim, that’s what I charge now.”

  Horrigan looked taken aback.

  “That’s... that’s a lot more than I’d thought you’d say. Hell, Tanner, I was thinking about fifty K.”

  “Call the clients; you did say ‘them’, didn’t you?”

  Horrigan looked annoyed at himself and Tanner realized that he had let it slip that he was representing more than one person.

  “I’ll call, but I don’t know if they’ll go for it.”

  “Look on the bright side; if they say yes, you’ll get more money too.”