
This week’s theme is weapons and weaponry. My characters have used all sorts of things for weapons. In Fancy Free the heroine used a fibre glass penis and her elderly friend used her knitting needles to great effect. In Wanderlust intruders conked one of my secondary characters on the head with a pot. In the following excerpt my heroine Isabella is an assassin on one last job before she retires. Her weapon is more traditional.
ASSASSIN by Shelley Munro
The bastard was out there.
Isabella Black could feel him like an irritating itch at her nape. He was there. The same instinct that had led her to come outside searching told her he was there, hidden out of sight, waiting patiently. With heavy tension swirling in the pit of her stomach, she scanned the hills and rocky outcrops surrounding Middlemarch, resisting the urge to stomp back and forth in a show of frustration. She didn’t like the situation. It pushed her temper from calm to uncertain, which wasn’t good for someone in her line of work. Her breath escaped in an impatient hiss.
At least the target was safe, stashed in a secure house on an isolated farm. Felix Mitchell would keep his new family from harm or die in the effort. As it should be, Isabella thought with approval. Felix was an honorable man and perfect for Tomasine. Isabella swiveled silently to scan the main road dissecting the small township below. The breeze ruffled her shoulder-length hair and she brushed it off her face with an impatient hand. She reached for the case holding her high-powered rifle. Without looking down, Isabella assembled the weapon and loaded it, holding the rifle lightly in her hands. She turned slowly, eyes watchful.
No strangers. Not a thing out of the ordinary.
Then a flash of light caught her eye, just to the right of a leaning pine.
“Move again. Let me get a good look at you,” she murmured.
Patiently she waited, watched. Finally she caught the outline of a figure picking his way across the hill, slinking from rock to tree.
“That’s it,” she crooned, her fingers flexing around her rifle. She watched him in her telescopic sight, noted his familiar face. One of Mika’s cronies. Even if she hadn’t recognized him, the weapon he carried would have given him away. The man meant business. Kill or be killed. She aimed until his face lined up in the crosshairs of her sight and gently squeezed the trigger, feeling not a trace of remorse.
He fell instantly, remained still.
A quick check ensured no one had witnessed the hit. Not a soul stirred, which wasn’t unusual around Middlemarch since it was a small country town. Isabella moved carefully, needing to check for peace of mind. She watched the body up on the hill, saw he didn’t move, and cautiously approached to check his pulse. When he didn’t move, she nudged him with her foot.
Dead.
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To read other excerpts in the Snippet Saturday trail follow the links below:
Anya Bast
Vivian Arend
Ashley Ladd
Leah Braemel
Jaci Burton
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Sasha White
Jody Wallace
TJ Michaels
Victoria Janssen
Elisabeth Naughton