In Cold Blood [Ash Lynx] - Banana Fish

Thirteen - Desperado

Glancing over her shoulder playfully as she walks inside the apartment, Tora shrugs his blazer off her shoulders and places it on the armchair with her dark red clutch. Turning around to face him with a flirtatious glint in her eye, she perches on the edge of the chair.

"So, what now, Mark?"

Wearing a dark grey suit —minus the jacket— white shirt and green striped tie, the large man kicks off his brown brogues and loosens his tie. He twists the end of his auburn moustache. "How about we take this to another room?"

He motions to the open door of the bedroom and Tora stands up. "Sounds great, I'll just freshen up. Where's your bathroom?"

Mark shows her the bathroom and she thanks him, walking past him with her purse in hand and opens the door. "I won't be a minute!" She smiles sweetly, shutting the door behind herself.

Standing over the sink, hands gripping the basin edge and lips pursed, the hair on the back of her neck stands on end.

This is the hardest job for a while —he truly is a revolting man.

When she'd read the file from Tanaka, she'd almost thrown up in her mouth. He's lived a disgusting life, his hobbies including harassing, grooming and sexually assaulting minors along with the rape of his past two wives. Senator Mark Stevens is vile.

To think she'd thought it would be an easy task to seduce him —and it had been— but continuing with the charade was the biggest issue.

He'd undressed her with his eyes as soon as she introduced herself at the club before groping her ten minutes later. His eyes hungry, his slimy, clammy fingers had touched her body —the thought repulses her.

A shiver running down her spine, Tora stands up and looks at her pasty face in the mirror.

Running a finger under her eye to remove mascara residue, she fixes a strand of her hair, tucking it back into the up-do before turning the tap faucet on and rinsing her hands under the water.

She rolls down the sleeves of her ruby-coloured silk gown, flattening the front and tugging at the hem on the thigh-high split. Brushing a hair from her chest, she re-positions her diamond necklace in the centre of her chest and the square neckline of the dress.

Glancing to her clutch, laying on the ceramic surface, Tora unzips it and carefully removes the thin metal spikes and knife, placing them to the side as she handles the grip of the gun.

In her 6-years as an assassin, Tora has only had to fire a gun on the job three times. She'd been taught how to fire a multitude of firearms, but it wasn't her area of expertise. Specialising in close hand-to-hand fighting, a variety of martial arts with knowledge of pressure points as well as knife combat, Tora used a gun as a last resort.

Guns have their uses, but from experience, aiming a knife at someone is more threatening. With guns, people don't believe you'll actually shoot them —especially someone like Tora— whereas knives have more use, as well as an element of mystery to them.

She could also control the flow of the job with a knife, witling down their defences and slowly but surely pushing the victim to the point of surrender.

Looking down at the polymer-framed, semi-automatic Glock 17, she checks the safety is on, as well as ensuring the magazine is ejected but that she has bullets ready in her purse. Sliding the gun back inside her clutch front sight first, she places her knife and spikes carefully next to it before zipping it closed.

Taking a deep breath, she plasters a fake smile on her face, opening the door and striding out the room. Her black heels click against the floor. "Mark?" She calls out. "Sorry I took so long."