2025-01-12 14:58:19He watched the way her slender hips swayed each time she swung her golf club. He noticed that it was a bit too short for her and concluded that she wouldn't be able to get any ball in the hole. After five minutes of watching her, she didn't prove him wrong.
The file on her husband had informed him that she was in her early fifties, but she didn't look a day over 29 years. The skirt hugged her taut frame perfectly and each swing caused her skirt to move dangerously revealing more than enough to entice interested men. Every time she managed to hit the golf ball squarely, she would bounce excitedly and her chest would wobble. But Hector wasn't one of those men who was interested in seeing what was underneath the branded clothes, he had a purpose. He grimaced as she bent again to take a swing. It would be miss after miss, he was sure of that. He smiled at the barman who looked more interested in watching her. He pulled out a few notes from his new wallet and shoved them into his whiskey glass before moving toward her. “You know your stance is wrong,” Hector interrupted her swing. Standing this close, he could spot her aging lines. When she furrowed her brows in confusion at his sudden approach, he could tell that she looked fifty. “And you are?” She placed a hand on her hip and leaned on the golf club. “A man who likes to see good golf,” Hector flashed his pearly teeth. She picked another golf ball from the basket near her placed it on the pin and whacked it again. She did it three more times and Hector realized she wasn't paying him any more attention. “You must be Georgina, Councilman Billy's wife,” Hector shot again hoping to rope her into a conversation. “Mrs.” She stated without missing a beat. “What?” Hector asked. “If you know I'm his wife then you'd add that title to my name,” Georgina whacked the ball again. Hector ground his teeth together, she was proving difficult. “I love your husband's campaigns, you know? He looks like he knows what he's doing,” Hector continued. Georgina picked up another golf ball without replying. “His motto is catchy as well. Was it your idea?” “Can I help you with something? It seems like you're not only a man who likes to see good golf, but you're a political dick rider, and boy do I have a queue of people waiting to hop on.” Hector smacked his lips, she had a foul mouth. This wasn't what he had expected when he prepared the list of conversation starters. He had surfed the net for interviews of Georgina and she looked like she loved to talk about her husband and his campaigns. “Thought as much,” Georgina rolled her eyes, spread her feet into a bad stance and swung. He could hear Henry cackling internally, repeatedly uttering that he told him so. Henry had warned him about it: “Women like this don't care about politics, they just need good dick. Be that good dick.” Hector had retched, utterly repulsed by the idea. There was no way he would betray the memory of Christen by involving himself with the hag. But now, being the good dick seemed like the only option. He massaged his forehead with his fingers, he needed her to be interested in him, one way or the other. “How’s your sex life, Mrs Georgina?” Hector asked brazenly. He wished he had his whiskey here, he would have taken a sip for emphatic effect. Georgina's club was poised in the air, like a statue. “Excuse me?” Georgina's tone was higher than normal. “You heard me,” Hector smirked and took a bold step closer. Georgina looked around at the club but no one paid them attention. “I know how busy your husband is, so when does he have time to take care of a woman like you?” Hector was tempted to take it further by touching her face, but he pocketed his hand. He didn't want to disgust himself, he was already appalled by the fact that he had to feign interest in someone who may have been involved in his family's death. Georgina tucked her reddened lips between her teeth as she leaned on her club. “You know who my husband is and you make such a statement to his wife? Do you want to die?” Georgina smirked. Hector could glean from her glassy eyes that she was impressed. He pressed on. “I know who your husband is and I know who you are, but do you know who I am?” Hector's tone was airy. Georgina’s spine tingled with excitement, it had been so long since anyone caught her interest. “Who are you?” Georgina's voice was airy as well. But the effect on Hector wasn't the same. He internally cringed at how she tried to be seductive. Hector leaned in closer, slowly pulling out his black card from his tight pants. The first thing that caught her eye was his name calligraphed in gold. Then her eyes danced to the top right corner where the company name was: Axrion Holdings. She didn't make it last the first syllable when Hector put the card back in his pocket. “A black card just so I can know who you are? Are you trying to show off?” Georgina had taken the bait. “No, showing off will be me taking you on a date next weekend on my yacht,” Hector ran his tongue along his lips and caught her eyes following it. “I'm a married woman,” Georgina smiled coyly. She wanted to at least put up a bit of resistance. Hector raised his hands in defense. “Let's strike a deal. If you can hit the ball toward the 6-foot mark over there, then I'll leave you alone, but if it passes the mark, then you'd go on a date with me,” Hector's heart was beating erratically. He was entering dangerous waters but his face showed otherwise. Georgina smiled and knelt to pick the ball, she maintained eye contact with him. Anyone who stared at Hector from his back would easily misinterpret what was going on. Georgina placed the golf ball on the pin, got into her bad stance and whacked the ball as hard as she could. The ball soared passed the mark, out of the net and into the night. “Oops,” Georgina shrugged. Hector grinned.
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Hector had seen blood before, he had seen it a lot during the war. But none had hurt him as badly as this. He stood rooted to his spot, goosebumps littering his forearms. He pressed the telephone tightly against his face, his heart racing with anxiety. If he gripped it any tighter, it would snap in two.The desperation in his wife's voice had opened a door he thought would never exist again after the war — trauma. Hector listened to the static noise over the line, praying to hear her voice again. His glazed eyes fell into the pool of blood for the second time and his heart stopped. Whose blood was it?A distorted voice, clearly enhanced, filled his ears through the phone."I'll only say this once. Fifty million dollars. 10 hours, that's all you have before we kill your wife and daughter. The blood in that room, it's a reminder of what you will see—""Where are they?" Hector's voice was still, a deep rumble to mask the fear coursing through his veins."—10 hours, we will call you when
