The Billionaire's Assassin [COMPLETE]

File 2: Atonement

Napa, California

*Eight Years After- 2018*

Rex

Atonement had become a pleasurable taste to Rex, like the sweet zest of a ripe, succulent fruit on a sunny day. That sweet taste coated his tongues, the sensation igniting with every toe curling scream and sizzle of flesh. His succulent fruit, Samuel Ando, now hanging over a tank of luminously crimson acid. Raspy wails elicited from Samuel's burly throat.

“Stop this!” he panicked, his body flailing like a fish out of water. “I treated you like a son!”

Rex stared up at his ex-boss, clipping the end off of a cigar. His dark, green eyes never left the swaying man as he lit the tip, slowly breathing in the luscious smoke. It was from Samuel’s hidden stash, most expensive cigars money could buy. He’d seen Samuel chop off a man’s hand, swift and mercilessly, his first day when the man tried to reach for one. It’s been a goal of his to try one ever since.

“Well, you were a poor example of a father, then,” Rex mocked, blowing a puff upwards.

He recalled his initiation over that tank of acid to prove his loyalty to Samuel. Only the tip of his toe touched the liquid fire. But it was enough to send a scorching path of agony through his entire body. The muscles beneath his skin clenched. His sinews burning all the way to his fingertips. Pain was his companion, a warm embrace during frigid nights, but never like that. It was robust, sweltering. Exhilarating even. That night, he returned and stuck the tip of his pinky in, memorizing the searing pain of the liquid fire licking every nerve.

Like the passionate flames of misery. Heat of seductive solitude he’d become so familiar with. But overall, the burning sensation reminded him of her. The girl with wild, smoldering curls and her torturous touch on his frozen heart.

“Who’s making you do this, huh?” Samuel’s cries returned Rex to his rightful place in the present. “Was it Bobby, because I killed him? He knew what he was asking for!”

A gut curdling chuckle reverberated off the flimsy warehouse walls, Rex holding his stomach at the thought. Bobby, his mentor in the dark, dangerous world of drugs and money laundering, wasn’t even close to the reason Rex was there. Yeah, he was an upstanding man who bled for his loyalty, but insignificant compared to bigger fish to fry.

Catching his breath, Rex took another drag of his cigar and pressed the remote in his hand, inching Samuel into his acidic grave. His pricey shoes weren’t enough to shield his skin, the liquid smoking as it touched his flesh. A blood gurgling scream tore out his ex-boss’s throat before he brought his feet up, probably the closest thing to exercise he had in years. Sweat dripped into the tank, sizzling on the surface with a breath of smoke.

Two words left Rex's tongue, stabbing Samuel with silence and dread, “Cattleya Trianae.” The words were softly spoken, a prayer in their ears.

Samuel bit his thin lips, his body trembling to keep his lower half up. “I’m not him, I swear!”

A brilliant smile lit Rex’s features. “That’s blatant. Never did I think a stupid old man like you would be him in the first place. But you have connections, don’t you?” Silence raptured the room along with impatience. Rex pressed the button lower, Samuel’s legs dropping into the fiery acid at the sudden jerk. Rex watched every moment of the hefty man spasming with his toes submerged. His screams of torment like a symphony as he waltz to take a seat with pride. “Where is he?”

It took a while for Samuel to catch his breath, bringing his blistering toes back to his side weakly. If they were doused again, they’d surely melt off his feet. “I don’t know! Last I heard, Cattleya Trianae died then--poof!--he just comes back to life. Did that before. But he hasn’t made any kind of connection with me in years!”

“You’re lying!” Rex prepared to press the button once more.

“Wait!” The crane holding him above vibrated from his sickening trembles. “A message came through a month ago! It had the Cattleya Trianae symbol with it! I wanted an update on him, probably meet him for the first time, but he never contacted me after that! That’s all I know!” Rex scrutinized the man a moment longer, finger above the button. “Get me down from here, por favor!”

“Gladly.”

In a split second, Samuel’s entire body submerged into the tank, bubbling a soft pink slush before becoming static with a vibrant crimson. Chunks of flesh float to the surface. He was the last, having to watch all his loyal followers go before him. He stayed silent and placid for each one until it was his turn to die. That’s when the sob-fest started.

Taking another breath of his cigar, Rex felt the delicious taste of atonement drip along his tongue once more. If only that taste would linger longer. Above him, he heard the heavy thumps of boots rattling the metal staircase from the platform. It’s followed by the clinking of pointed heels and the clank of bangles with each step.

“Sir, we received a message,” his newest protege, Malcolm, informed him. Behind him, his ex-bosses girl stood by the stairs, keeping her perceptive eyes to the ground, to the walls, to Rex. Anything to avoid the exposed tank of bloody, flesh filled acid.

“Cattleya Trianae,” Rex breathed excitedly, jumping up from his seat. The message was in a manila envelope he tore into quickly, lifting the slick photos out. Everything around him froze, time standing still as his icy heart pulsed for the first time beneath his chest. An aching ball caught in his throat. “This…”

This was her. The girl with the wild curls who stole not only his heart but his parents, his money, his affluent life. Leaving only a sleeted void edged with hatred in its place. Her dark coils had grown fuller around her shoulders and backside. Skin, a deep royal gold, still radiated as though affirming her queenship. And mocha eyes that always seemed to pierce into the darkest recesses of one’s mind, ciphering all the mysteries within. Like a game. And she never lost a game. There was no mistaking it. This was Maya. His Maya.

Rex grinned at the cursive letters written in wine red lipstick, smelling the sweet mint lingering on the sheets. Catch me, mi amour. “Where’d you get these?” His deep voice rang with demand, thrill kindling in his cold, green eyes.

Malcolm hesitated, never having seen his boss this intrigued by anything, not even by his current mission of capturing Cattleya Trianae. “A drone brought them to the doorway. Then the drone combusted midair and crashed a few yards away.”

Always going in for the theatrics, Rex mused to himself. He flipped through the papers, scouring each page with intensity, as though they’d vanish between his fingers. He stopped on one page. An invite. A place and time to meet with her. How sweet. Rex scoffed bitterly. The insult of it scratching at his skin, clawing its way through his mortal flesh.

Eight years he’s waited for her. Eight years after she’d ripped his heart out of his chest in the most inhumane way possible. Twice! Eight years ago when she killed his parents so callously before his very eyes. Eight f*****g years! And she sends a measly invite to chat over tea and scones!?

That b***h, he mouthed, his fingers crumbling the papers. He wished his hands were wringing her slender neck, watching the veins in her pretty brown eyeballs pop and bleed.

Malcolm looked timidly over his shoulders at the beautiful woman in the picture, noting the delicate cursive and address. From the features of his newly appointed mentor, he could tell whoever this woman was had some kind of torturous hold on him. Rex, for years, has been his idol during his training as an assassin. His cool demeanor. The swift, meticulous thought process for everyone he encountered. His merciless approach of studying, capturing, manipulating, and killing his prey. Each death poetically structured to the smallest detail.

“Sir, this woman, would you like me to--”

“No!” he yelled, refusing to allow the words to kill slip from his mouth. Malcolm, since day one, has been trying to please him, make things easier for Rex. He didn’t realize he needed these kills. They were practice, substitutions for the yearning, for blood, for the vehement thrill that she’d left him with. “She’s mine!” His head c****d to the side at his disciple. “But you know what you can do? Go see her. Mia-Amber. Tell her we meet on my terms, not hers! Go!”

Wearily, Malcolm nodded and raced up the platform, through the offices and out into the dazzling sunlight that couldn’t be preserved below ground. The sweet taste of atonement coursed through every vein of his being, now sprinkled with tingles of mint. He ran his fingers through his hair, his hands needing something to replace his sudden appetite for his high school sweetheart. Something voluptuous and warm.

His eyes peaked up to Trish, Samuel’s favorite girl, leaning against the stairs. A smile crawled along his lips. She’d been into him since day one, the curvature of her skirts and ample bosoms always a tease. Once, she approached him and whispered she needed a good f*****g from him. Back then though, Samuel would have cut his balls off, but today, Rex made the rules. He gestured for her to come to him which she did so willingly, a sultry grin playing at her lips.

His fingers grasped her chin, pulling her closer to his heaving body. “Make a choice. Sleep in my bed or sleep with Samuel in his fiery grave?”