F**k, Marry, Kill Me, Daddy by Lance Lansdale

SCOTTY
My boyfriend’s been trying to kill me for weeks. Well, I guess he’s my boyfriend. I mean, we’ve never officially been introduced, but he’s always standing in the shadows, watching me. That has to be a good sign, right? The first time I saw him, he was hunched down in my bushes, aiming a rifle at my heart, and he’s turned up with a new weapon every night since. As fun as our silly little game of Murder Daddy may be, I’m getting tired of having to steal my stalker-slash-boyfriend’s affection by disarming him and using his weapons against him.

BRODY
I’ve got to get my head in the game. As my agency’s top assassin, I’ve killed my fair share of men. When Senator Levinson placed his son on my hitlist, I figured it would be a one-and-done. I was wrong. Every time our paths cross, he winds up getting the upper hand. The things he makes me do once he’s pried a gun or a knife out of my hand are downright depraved, and for some reason, I can’t bring myself to stop it from happening. My wife tells me I need to just suck it up and get the job done. My wife’s boyfriend says I’m sweet on the guy, which is absolutely ridiculous. Even if I wanted to take advantage of our open marriage, I’m not gay. This man—this Freakshow—is completely unhinged, and the worst part is, I think I might be just as crazy as him.