Read Online Kill on Command by Slaton Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Slaton Smith
Ads: Link
on a pair of Adidas capri length tights, fresh socks, a jogging bra and a sweatshirt. She had to be ready when Sean emerged. She knew he was going to start working out as soon as he woke.
She reached for the radio.
“I have the next three hours. Both of you get some rest. We all need to be ready to go at 0500. His routine will not change state side. Don’t let the cop spot you.”
She snatched the laptop off the table and balanced it on the edge of the couch and sent a quick email to an anonymous account. The laptop produced a new address every day.
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
RE: #2
No change. Still operationally ready.
She hit send, changed the screen back to the camera view and placed it on the table.
She grabbed a Greek yogurt and a one-liter bottle of water out of the fridge and sat in a chair that afforded her a view of the cameras and the front of the house.
She glanced at the rifle and opened the yogurt.
VI
It’s a Grande – Not a Medium
Shadyside – Saturday - Early Morning
Sean woke up around 8 A.M. Bailey had wormed her way under the covers of the bed, her nose just sticking out of the top of the comforter. Sean lay on his back for a moment and stared at the ceiling, but was quickly overcome with the need to do something - keep moving. He threw the covers off his side of the bed, clad only in his boxer shorts and dropped back down to the floor and started doing push-ups. Like the night before, he kept knocking them out without regard for the pain in his arms and the pain in his shoulders. Bailey hung her head over the edge of the bed. She let out a “huff.”
Sandy watched on her laptop from across the street. She alerted her team and got ready to move.
“I hear you girl. I’ll take you out in a minute.” Sean popped back up and looked in the mirror. He looked good, but something kept telling him “Go! Go!” He walked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth and rubbed the beard that was covering the sharp features of his face. He was working a nice five o’clock shadow. Not quite Sonny Crocket, but nice.
“You know, I should have named you Tubbs,” he said to Bailey.
Bailey watched from the bed. He came back out into the bedroom and opened the bottom drawer searching for a pair of lacrosse shorts. He found an old pair from a club team in Atlanta – Pete’s Wicked. He slipped his sandals on and went downstairs – sans shirt. He and Bailey would sprint to Starbucks after breakfast.
“Let’s go outside!” Bailey jumped off the bed and roared downstairs. Sean walked through the living room into the kitchen and opened the backdoor for Bailey. She ran off into the backyard. Sean looked in the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs, cheese and OJ. He placed everything on the counter and took a frying pan down from the pot rack. In the cabinet adjacent to the stove, he reached for the PAM, treated the pan and returned the can to the cabinet. He turned on the gas, the Viking Range roared to life - he placed the pan over the burner and started cracking eggs. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Eight. That looked about right. Too lazy to beat them in a bowl, he did it in the pan. Bailey pounded on the door and he let her in. She took up a spot at his feet, knowing there was something in it for her.
“This is for you too girl,” Sean said looking at her. Bailey shifted her weight anxiously. Sean added a handful of shredded cheese to the mix and started folding the eggs. He did not notice Stacy enter the kitchen. Bailey did, but did not care. Stacy did not exist as far as the dog was concerned.
“Got enough eggs?” she said as she opened the fridge looking for bottled water. She looked him up and down. She was wearing last night’s clothes.
“Brian was right. You have been working
She reached for the radio.
“I have the next three hours. Both of you get some rest. We all need to be ready to go at 0500. His routine will not change state side. Don’t let the cop spot you.”
She snatched the laptop off the table and balanced it on the edge of the couch and sent a quick email to an anonymous account. The laptop produced a new address every day.
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
RE: #2
No change. Still operationally ready.
She hit send, changed the screen back to the camera view and placed it on the table.
She grabbed a Greek yogurt and a one-liter bottle of water out of the fridge and sat in a chair that afforded her a view of the cameras and the front of the house.
She glanced at the rifle and opened the yogurt.
VI
It’s a Grande – Not a Medium
Shadyside – Saturday - Early Morning
Sean woke up around 8 A.M. Bailey had wormed her way under the covers of the bed, her nose just sticking out of the top of the comforter. Sean lay on his back for a moment and stared at the ceiling, but was quickly overcome with the need to do something - keep moving. He threw the covers off his side of the bed, clad only in his boxer shorts and dropped back down to the floor and started doing push-ups. Like the night before, he kept knocking them out without regard for the pain in his arms and the pain in his shoulders. Bailey hung her head over the edge of the bed. She let out a “huff.”
Sandy watched on her laptop from across the street. She alerted her team and got ready to move.
“I hear you girl. I’ll take you out in a minute.” Sean popped back up and looked in the mirror. He looked good, but something kept telling him “Go! Go!” He walked into the bathroom and brushed his teeth and rubbed the beard that was covering the sharp features of his face. He was working a nice five o’clock shadow. Not quite Sonny Crocket, but nice.
“You know, I should have named you Tubbs,” he said to Bailey.
Bailey watched from the bed. He came back out into the bedroom and opened the bottom drawer searching for a pair of lacrosse shorts. He found an old pair from a club team in Atlanta – Pete’s Wicked. He slipped his sandals on and went downstairs – sans shirt. He and Bailey would sprint to Starbucks after breakfast.
“Let’s go outside!” Bailey jumped off the bed and roared downstairs. Sean walked through the living room into the kitchen and opened the backdoor for Bailey. She ran off into the backyard. Sean looked in the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs, cheese and OJ. He placed everything on the counter and took a frying pan down from the pot rack. In the cabinet adjacent to the stove, he reached for the PAM, treated the pan and returned the can to the cabinet. He turned on the gas, the Viking Range roared to life - he placed the pan over the burner and started cracking eggs. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Eight. That looked about right. Too lazy to beat them in a bowl, he did it in the pan. Bailey pounded on the door and he let her in. She took up a spot at his feet, knowing there was something in it for her.
“This is for you too girl,” Sean said looking at her. Bailey shifted her weight anxiously. Sean added a handful of shredded cheese to the mix and started folding the eggs. He did not notice Stacy enter the kitchen. Bailey did, but did not care. Stacy did not exist as far as the dog was concerned.
“Got enough eggs?” she said as she opened the fridge looking for bottled water. She looked him up and down. She was wearing last night’s clothes.
“Brian was right. You have been working
Similar Books
