"You'll wanna make sure you don't miss. Wheelgun's only got six shots." I didn't look at her, I didn't dare. She'd give me a look that said something warm grew in her cold heart, but that was just to distract from the cold iron in her hand. It'd be hot, soon enough, trailing a wisp of smoke just like my cig. "It's not like—" she started in.
"You played me," I cut her short. "You played me good, don't try and cut it a different way. It is what it is." I took a drag from my cigarette, and blew the smoke out.
"You got another one of those?" She hadn't moved.
"The condemned's usually the only one to get one, but sure." I fumbled out the pack, and gave a casual toss to her, then followed it up with the lighter. "Just so you won't think I'm trying to take your piece." No clatter on the ground, so she caught them. I knew she would. I heard the lighter's action, like the hammer of the gun in miniature.
I took a slow glance at her, and saw those too red lips blow out a streamer as she looked at me, eyes hot. "It doesn't have to be this way."
"Sure it does. If you don't take care of me, I talk. It's my job."
"Damn you!" she threw the cigarette down. "Why do you have to be so damned stubborn about it! I didn't hurt you, I—"
"Doesn't matter who got hurt. It's who I am; it's the job. If I go with you, then I'm like you, a criminal, and we spend our days eyeing each other because we can't trust each other. Knowing we each got something on the other. That's no way to live. No way to love." I took another drag, and looked up into the sky at dark clouds.
"Can't you just let me go?"
"Then what does that say about me? Any skirt comes along and shows a little leg gets to wrap me around her finger? No. You played me good, but I won't just roll over."
"This is the way it's got to be, doll, so let's be done with it." I tossed the cigarette down, and stamped it out.
I heard the lighter's big brother click, a soft curse, then the boom of a shot.