𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓐𝓼 𝓘𝓬𝓮 [𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖊]

9

Ms. Jennie Kim was rapidly becoming a pain in the ass, Rosé thought. She ought to finish what she started, toss her unconscious body over the side of the boat and let the fish have her. In the end she doubted it would matter. As long as they found identifiable traces of Kim Jongin's body in the rubble of his island home the authorities would be satisfied. They wouldn't go to that much trouble trying to ascertain if his pretty little lawyer was there too.

Unless, of course, the suspected foul play. She highly doubted that-she was an expert at her job, and she seldom made mistake. Kim Jongin had done a magnificent job of convincing the world what a decent, charming, humanitarian fellow he was, and most people outside of a select few would have no idea just how overdue retribution was. It was Rosé's job to see to it, and if Kai's death was supposed to look like an accident then it would. And those were her orders.
She shifted the dead weight in her arms. It would be far easier to dump her over the side than figure out what to do with her. But she couldn't. But things had gone too far-the unpalatable fact was that she was going to have to end up dead anyways. Why complicate matter by putting it off?

Having her found on the island would be neater, and when it came to her job she tended to be fastidious. The thought would have astonished her mother. She'd never been the orderly type, and chaos had suited him very well for many years.
But her job required precision, attention to the smallest detail, a cool detachment that nothing could permeate. Ms. Kim was undoubtedly going to die, whether she liked it or not, but now wasn't the right time.

She could have left her on the deck and had Bobby haul her into the cabin where she could keep an eye on her, but she never delegate work she could do herself. Besides, Bobby had his limitations, and he liked to hurt women. There was nothing she could do about Ms. Kim's upcoming fate, but there was no reason why she should have to suffer. After all, she was a civilized woman, she mocked herself.

She hauled her limp body over her shoulder. She wasn't that bad, not compared to some at the dead weight she'd carried in her twenty-six years. Odd, but when someone was simply unconscious they weighed less than when they were dead. It made no sense, but it was true.
Or maybe it was the weight if her conscience when she had dispose of someone. Except that she had no conscience-it had been surgically removed along with her soul years ago.

Still, maybe she retained a trace of sentimentality. Otherwise she wouldn't feel the random regret about Jennie, and she wouldn't feel the random regret at all.

She dumped her down at her down on the huge bed in the main cabin, next to Kim Jongin's unconscious body. She had milky white skin, and long, pretty legs, and it was hard to forget the distracting taste of her mouth. She still hadn't figured out why she'd kissed her. An aberration, a momentary indulgence...she wouldn't let herself do it again.

She stared down at her for a long moment. She'd killed women before, it was inevitable in her line of work. At times females could be a lot deadlier than male. And she was one of those few. But she'd never forced to kill someone who'd simply gotten in the way. And she didn't want to start now, no matter how goddam important it was.
Of course, one could argue that the world would always be a better place with one less lawyer. But looking down at Jennie Kim's unconscious, undeniably luscious body, she wasn't completely sure she could make herself believe it.

--

Jennie came awake very slowly, letting the strange sensation wash over her. She was conscious of an odd sense of relief, quickly washed away by an unshakable sense of entrapment. She was lying in a bed next to someone-she could hear his steady breathing, feel the weight of his body next to hers and her panic increased. The room was shadowed, the oh light at the far end, and she blinked, trying to focus, trying to get her brain to work.