Codename: Blackheart Chapter Three

God dammit! Severing major arteries is messy business. I’m usually able to keep myself out of the line of fire, but not today it seems. My black hair is matted, my maroon bra looks black from the blood soaking into it, and my matching maroon satin and lace panties are soaked and not in the good way. The gorgeous tattoos that cover the ivory skin of my arms and legs are now veiled in blood. I look horrific, but sometimes this comes with the job.

Killing people can get messy sometimes, and not everything goes to plan. Like in this case. Everything was running smoothly, going exactly how I wanted, but then one little mistake forced me to deviate from my plan slightly and now here I am, straddling a dead man while looking like a living, breathing Jackson Pollock painting. But let me go back a bit and explain how I got here.

Thirty-nine-year-old Miroslav Đorđević was a Serbian arms dealer who, as it turns out, had been skimming off the top and his partner wasn’t happy about it. Sometimes when people in our world want someone dead but don’t want it coming back to them, they reach out to me, and I take care of it for them. For a fee, of course. After studying his routines, habits, and background for the past month – as I do with every new contract – I put my plan into action.

I learned Miroslav was going to be at Square Nine Hotel having a dinner meeting with Земунски клан (The Zemun Clan), one of the Belgrade clans of the Serbian Mafia. I waited in the lobby bar in a full-length, black velvet gown that had one full sleeve down my right arm and a thigh slit that came right up to my pelvis. The only accessories I paired with the dress was my gold 5” ankle strap stilettos and my matching gold clutch. I kept my makeup light with mascara, a cat eye and blood-red lipstick, with my hair pinned to the right. The tattoos on my left leg and left arm were on display to tantalise those around me. Safe to say, my 5’6” self looked good. I don’t have much to flaunt chest-wise as I’m a B cup; my ass, on the other hand, is sinfully curvaceous and this dress showcased it to the fullest.

I waited patiently while discreetly monitoring the meeting going on not too far from me. My mother tongue is Romanian, but I’m fluent in several other languages including Serbian, so listening in on their conversation was no issue. I stole flirtatious glances with Miroslav during his meeting, and he responded to each glance with a wink, or a smirk, and a lust-filled gaze, often zoning out of the conversation, distracted by the deadly woman flirting with him from across the bar. This wasn’t even a challenge, but I won’t say it wasn’t fun.

Once he finished his meeting, he came over and struck up a conversation which resulted in him inviting me up to his room as intended. The door was barely shut before he was pulling me into a heated make-out session which, I will be the first to admit, was hot as hell. He made quick work of his clothes and at his command, I peeled off my dress while he lay on the king-size bed of his Junior Deluxe Suite in all his naked glory. The man was indeed glorious.

Light brown, spikey hair, teal eyes and toned muscles with olive skin covered in hair. Not in a bearish way though. The hair wasn’t wild, but instead, tame, accenting the curves and dips of the muscles on his body. Boy am I glad we didn’t get to the sex because I think his dick might have killed me. Not much to brag about in terms of girth, but it was long, roughly eight maybe nine inches which is just too much if you ask me and from what I could tell about this guy, he’d have used every inch mercilessly.

Once out of our clothes, I moved on top of him resuming our foreplay. I’ll hand it to him, the man could kiss, and his hands were skilled, but while he was busy leaving wet kisses on my neck and whispering erotic things in my ear, I carefully pulled Crimson out from her hiding place under the mattress, where I had hidden her earlier when I snuck into his room.

I was just about to go for his neck when he noticed what I was doing and acted fast. He grabbed my arm to keep the blade away which meant the way we were positioned didn’t give me a clear angle of his neck. So while he was busy trying to disarm my right hand, I switched the blade to my left and pierced Crimson into the femoral artery of his right thigh. He screamed in pain and shock and once I withdrew my blade, blood began spurting everywhere. May have had something to do with the fact so much blood was already pumping down to that region, but who cares? We struggled for a few minutes with him desperately trying to get me off of him while throwing Serbian curses my way, but just as fast as he began fighting, he became lifeless underneath me.

And that brings us to my current state. The bed is soaked in blood. There’s even blood on the wall above the bed. I climb off the bed, look myself over and shake my head. Definitely not what I had planned, but the job is done at least. I slip Crimson into the waistband of my panties and collect my dress and purse. I walk over to the door and listen for anyone in the hallway. When I’m satisfied the coast is clear, I use my dress to open the door, ensuring I don’t touch it with my bloody hands. I quickly look both ways down the hall and make a dash to the room next to his, which I had reserved earlier for myself.

Once inside I grab a garbage bag from my suitcase, strip off my bra and panties, and toss my clothes inside the garbage bag. I then pad my way to the bathroom and get into the shower. I take my time scrubbing the blood off my body and washing it out of my hair. Another rule of this business: don’t wash up in the same place you do your job.

After showering for a good thirty minutes, I get out and dry off using a towel I brought with me. I never use the hotel’s items. The fewer traces of me the better. I pull clean clothes out of my suitcase and get dressed in a royal blue button-down satin blouse and a black, pencil skirt, tucking the blouse into my skirt. I slip on a pair of black pumps and tie my hair into a bun on top of my head. I look myself over in the mirror and see I’ve successfully washed all the makeup off as well. Good. I put all my belongings neatly back into my suitcase, along with anything with blood on it, including Crimson, who is tucked safely into a side compartment – I’ll give her a thorough cleaning when I’m on the jet. With everything ready, I make my exit and check out of the hotel.

I do feel a little bad for the maid who’s in for a nasty surprise. I wonder how many people around the world require therapy because of me. I do tend to leave bodies scattered about rather than hiding them, usually for two reasons. First reason is that it may relate to a scenario I have created such as the one with Martin Allard last month. The second reason is that the body being found – regardless of by whom – proves I completed the job. Should never give someone a reason to suspect you double-crossed them and their target is still alive. It never ends well.