GQ’s profile of an undercover ATF agent who poses as a hitman to foil murder for hire schemes is an interesting read.
“Tell me what you want done,” the hit man says. “Do you want something done?”
“Oh, I want something done. I want that bitch’s face cut.”
Just saying it out loud, it’s the first step toward healing. Lucero knows that for sure now, and he says it repeatedly—cut her face up—and each time he feels lighter, a load off his heart, his pounding, suffering heart. The love of his life, she walked away laughing.
The hit man has ice blue eyes that don’t wander, don’t shift or pierce with disdain. “So you don’t want her dead, you want her scarred up?”
“Yeah,” Lucero says. “For all the money she took from me. All the money I gave—I gave her the world. And I got this back? So, here, I’ll put a smile on your face…that fucking smile, why I can’t sleep; I just want her face completely fucking disfigured. Not just cuts. I’m talking about all the way through.”
“I’d use a fillet knife,” the hit man says, “like a fish.”
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