Meet Sean Riley

Meet Sean Riley, from the Michael Sykora Novels

 

Sean: I am not going in there.

Michael: You are. I promised you’d talk to them.

Sean: What the hell did you do that for? I don’t talk about what I do – what we do – with anyone. You know that.

Michael: It’s cool. They’re Darcia’s readers, not an inquisition committee.

Sean: You’ve lost your mind.

Michael: Just go.

Sean: Fine. But if this all goes bad, it’s on you.

Hello. I don’t see anyone, though I suppose you’re out there. If you overheard the exchange between Michael and me, you’re aware that I’m not happy about my presence here. I’ll tell you who I am, but I’m not answering questions. And I don’t repeat myself. So pay attention.

My name is Sean Riley. I met Michael a few years ago, when he needed some work done. We got along well and have been friends since. There you go. Perfect fairy tale ending.

What?

Oh, hell. Michael tells me I’m being too vague. You want details? Of course you do. I’ll be more specific.

After Michael’s fiancée was raped and murdered, he contracted me to find and kill the creep responsible. I found the guy. Michael killed him. He and I have been working together since. We only kill bottom-feeding scum. No one you’d miss.

Better?

Hell no! I will not tell them something personal about how I got started in the business.

If you want to know more about me, I’m told Darcia has stuck me in a series of novels with Michael’s name. Not quite fair, if you ask me. He’s the star. What do you need me there for?

Damn right, I’m cranky.

Fine. I’ll try to be nicer.

I excel at murder. We all have to be good at something, and killing people happens to be my specialty. How I got to this place in my life is a long, messy story that starts with a psychopathic father. He killed my mother. I killed him. And that’s all I’m saying on that subject.

You’ll find more detail in the short story The First Kill. Darcia wrote it. I haven’t read it but, if I had my way, the piece would disappear. You might have guessed I did not cooperate in the telling of that story. Having someone get into your head and tell your personal stories without your consent is unsettling. I wish she’d stop.

I love old blues and old jazz, board games, and I’m an excellent cook. Hard to put that image together with a hired killer? Yeah, I’m a study in contrasts.

Now, I’m late for an appointment. I’d like to say it was nice meeting you, but it wasn’t. In fact, a dentist visit would be preferable to this experience.

Michael: It’s over. You can stop scowling.

Sean: Don’t ever do that to me again.

Michael: C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.

Sean: Not that bad? It was brutal.

Michael: Hey, it’s not my fault. You were loved in Killing Instinct. This is the price of fame.

Sean: Smart ass. Now where’d you put my gun? I have a rapist to kill.

 

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