There’s no passion in killing for money. You get in, you do the job, you get out. No enthusiasm, or pride, in the work. Nothing like a personal vendetta. Kills for money come in two flavors: eliminate, or intimidate. Some are meticulously crafted to look like accidents, or cover-ups. Others are meant to send a message, and those are probably the most creative of any, but still don’t quite measure up to the high of exacting your own personal brand of revenge. I was eighteen years old, the first time I killed a man. He was one of three who raped my mother in front of me, and when I finally
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