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Chapter One
Harm
The evening is quiet, the gulls have finally calmed and the sea hushes the shore.I stand in the shadows, behind the trees while watching the glasshouse up on the cliff. It belongs to my target, the one who’s going to die tonight. My gloved hand clenches and my body floods with a tranquility I only feel in these in moments.
This is why I’m good at what I’m doing.
I’m a machine, I don’t get anxious or whiny and I never ever get cold feet when it’s time to execute. When I was younger I attempted to live a normal life and become a normal gent. I tried a career as a car salesman, a bouncer and I even tried my luck at stand-up comedy but none of it worked for me. It seems that I was born with poison in my veins instead of blood.
Others can sense it and most people choose stay away. Wise of them. If I could I’d stay away from me too. I check my wristwatch for the third time. Soon darkness will fall and then I’ll make my move.
I flex my jaw as my muscles tense and I try not repeating the target’s name in my head.Ava Minty.Her name is a name like any other but there’s something inherently feminine about it that rubs me the wrong way. Sudden chills slide down my spine, as if a woman is standing right behind me and dragging the tip of her finger down my back. For fucks sake, I’ve never killed a person belonging to the fairer sex before. The wind ruffles the trees and the sound reminds me of whispers.
Don’t do this.
Letting out a curse, I raise my binoculars and spy through the grand windows. I can see the woman moving in there. Her golden, fluffy hair falls down her back and she wears a rose colored robe with a fur hemline. Luxury and exclusivity clings to her and I wonder what it would feel like to bed a lady like that. Fall asleep with her pink lips pressed against mine, wrap my murderous arms around her and hold her close. Not to kill but to cherish.
Would it be like finally finding a dark paradise?
A frown crosses my face when I realize where my thoughts are wandering. This isn’t the time to be unprofessional and I should stop watching her, take a moment to get a grip but I can’t. My eyes have already become her devotees. She’s in the kitchen, pouring popcorn into a bowl before crossing the hall. Her soles sunnily thump against the floor, as if she’s dancing through her way in life. I get an impulse to take her hand, whirl her around and watch her do a pirouette just to see her eyes flare in delight.
I wonder what her eyes look like, what shape they have, I wonder about the wetness of her mouth, the wetness of her...Clenching my fist, I bite into my knuckles. Sudden agony flares in me because of her fragile humanity. She seems like the kind of woman who makes sure she doesn’t step on any flowers or ladybugs.
I’m the opposite of that. I don’t care what dies under my boot, or what dies by my hands but suddenly I seem to be developing the faintest conscience. It’s distant, howling in the back of my mind and my tongue feels dry in my mouth. I swallow a couple of times, coughing and punching myself in the chest.
The woman sits on the couch, turns on the TV, pulls a fleece blanket over her lap and makes herself comfortable. She’s absorbed by her romantic comedy, completely unaware that she’s being watched by a killer. A part of me wishes I could join her. I bet she smells amazing and if I was right there with her, I’d slide a hand underneath that robe then tickle her until she laughs louder at me than that movie.
I could make her feel good.... if I wasn’t her assassin, that is.
I want to see her face and suddenly I wish I knew more about her. What does she like to do in the morning, what magazines does she read and has she ever had a man between her legs who knew how to make her scream at the night in ecstasy? Has she ever clung to a man the way I would make her cling to me? The thought makes a sudden burst of violent possessiveness explode in my chest.
The woman might not be mine but she can’t be anybody else’s. The man in me wouldn’t be able to handle it and the murderer in me would lose his marbles. I know she’s a fantasy but she’s nowmyfantasy. In another life I would have been her boyfriend, then her husband. She would look up to me, confide in me and be in awe of how I never let her down. If I had her in my life, I would find my existence meaningful.Beautiful.Death would take the backseat as she takes the front seat.
The movie ends and she gets up, crossing the hallway once more but stops suddenly and looks out the window. I tense, wondering if she can sense she’s being watched and my temples start pounding, the junk in my pants throbbing with excitement. A sick part of me likes the idea of being caught, hearing her scream in fear then moan as I trace my hand up her thigh to silence her. She doesn’t see me, considering she’s looking out the wrong window.
I’m on the other side.
Her shoulders shrug and she walks into her bedroom, before entering the adjoining bathroom. I imagine her in there, brushing her teeth, combing her pretty hair...when she walks out again, she drops the robe and casually tosses it on a chair.
She’s now only wearing what can best be described as assassin kryptonite. There are ribbons, bows, mesh... my mouth waters and my fists clench.
That target of mine may be an angel but her fate is in the hands of a devil.
Chapter Two
Ava
I laugh out loud, when the couple on the TV kisses and their dogs’ leashes entangle their legs.Aw...that’s nice. I’ve always had a thing for happy endings and I get up, wandering down the hall. This house is a sight for jaded eyes and I bought it with my own money when I was just eighteen. I’ve lived here for about four years now and never regretted a second. The sound of the sea has become meditative music to my ears and I can’t fall asleep without it. I’m miles away from the stress of the city but I love it like that. I crave the privacy.
As a child, I never had much of it. I grew up on sets, took my first steps in an actor’s trailer and I’ve been told my first word wasHollywood. There’s even an Oscar tucked away somewhere on my bookshelf but it’s mostly just collecting dust. I don’t miss that life one bit, because it never allowed me to be myself. There was no Ava Minty back then. Only Avalon Arden, my stage name.
These days I mostly just enjoy my wealth and my alone time. I think I’ve basically squeezed everything out of life by now and I’ve done more than most people my age. I’ve hiked in the Alps, posed next to skyscrapers in Dubai and played bagpipes with Highlanders and tasted the finest Swiss chocolate. I’ve experienced fame, worship, had a wonderful career...
But nobody to share it with.
I pinch my lip when the thought pops up in my mind. It’s true I’ve never shared it with anyone, but most people think of the spunky sweetheart Avalon Arden when they see me, and I’m not her.
I’m much more brittle.
