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A light clicks on above me and I know my target is home. Now I just need to wait until she falls asleep. Then I can sneak in, drug and bind her, and get back on the road. I could be back in New York tomorrow morning and on my way to my new life by tomorrow night.
I’m not sure exactly what I want to do, and that feels like a breath of fresh air. No more assignments, no more jetting around the country whenever my phone rings. Just me and whatever the fuck I want to do.
I weigh my options between a tropical destination or a remote cabin in the woods while I wait for my target to fall asleep. It takes another hour for my target to finally go to bed and for the Eye Candy Ink light across the street to finally be turned off, leaving me in the dark. I wait another half an hour just to be safe before I climb out of the car and head over to the fire escape.
I climb up slowly, taking care not to make a sound on the metal rungs. The mistress lives on the top floor and I stop outside the window, looking in to make sure I have the right apartment. No pictures are hanging on the wall, no keepsakes or personal touches anywhere. Exactly the apartment I would expect to find from someone on the run or hiding.
I use my knife to pick the lock, prying the window open and slipping inside. The light on the microwave is on and I use that to see as I move stealthily down the hallway toward the bedroom.
It’s only a one bedroom apartment; small, but tidy. The bedroom door is open and I peek around the edge to see a body under the covers on the bed. There’s a nightlight plugged in across from the bed and I push the door open wider, slipping inside as I pull the syringe out of my coat pocket. I move around the other side of the bed, sticking to the shadows.
I grab the zip ties out of my other pocket as I stop beside the bed and look down at the sleeping figure. My heart starts to race when I get a look at who is lying in bed.
My angel.
She’s the mistress?
My boss never told me what she looked like or showed me a picture. He’s being extra secretive about this target since he promised his wife he was done with all of his other women. I was just told a name and to find her.
But could this girl really be her? She doesn’t look or seem like the type to rob someone or be a mistress for a mob boss. Usually, those women are a little harder, they have more of an edge to them that this woman is sorely lacking.
I don’t know how I know that about her, but it’s true all the same. My gaze travels down her body and then back up to her face. I study her delicate cheekbones, the few freckles splashed across her nose, and her light blonde eyelashes fluttering against those rosy cheeks.
She looks...precious. I don’t think I’ve ever used that word to describe someone. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever used that word before, period. Her skin is porcelain, smooth, and delicate. I want to sink my teeth into her flesh and make her wear my mark.
Jesus Christ, get it together!
This woman, angel or not, is in this apartment. I have good intel, even if I hate the prick who gave it to me. Plus, who am I to question Mario Gambino, the feared and respected head of the family? This is my last job; no time to be making waves. Get in, get the girl, get out. That’s the plan.
Besides, I’ve been lurking in the shadows, working off my debt for the family long enough to know looks can be deceiving. The women who come and go around mafia men are often manipulative, always looking for an angle to play, some sort of agenda to press. She’s probably no different.
My mind flashes to an old acquaintance, Rocco. He’s another enforcer, though he works for the Moscatelli family over in Chicago. He found himself a wife and even has a kid, from what I hear. In fact, everyone who works for the Moscatelli’s seems to have found love, including the boss himself, Matteo.
Alright, so fine, noteverywoman is deceptive, but this one sure is. She has to be. How else would she get herself in this position?
Focus.She’s not yours, Locke. She never will be. Put the attraction aside and get this job over with.
I step closer and when she still doesn’t wake, I set the syringe on the bed and get the zip ties ready. No use drugging her if I can shut her up and get her bound without it. Despite being the coldhearted bastard Mario made me, I still don’t like the thought of hurting or drugging a woman, especially this one.
I lean down closer to her and barely resist the urge to bury my face in her hair and breathe in her sweet, tangerine scent. The woman sighs and snuggles deeper into her pillow. A picture of curling up behind her and pulling her lithe little body against my much bigger one flashes across my mind, but I shut that shit down immediately.
Angry with myself for my wayward thoughts, I yank the covers off her body and quickly roll her onto her stomach, gathering up her wrists and securing them with a zip tie behind her back.
“What…?” Her groggy voice indicates she’s still half asleep, though I know she’ll snap out of it any second now. “What the hell?!” There it is. The panic in her voice lances my heart, causing my hands to tremble as I grab her kicking feet and secure them with a zip tie as well.
I hate every second of this, but I keep going. She’s a job. She’s a mistress. She’s a thief and a manipulative liar, no different than the other women Mario messes around with.
The target flops around on the bed, rolling to the side and revealing her face to me once more. Fear clouds her blue eyes as tears threaten to spill over those delicate cheeks I want to kiss.
Dammit, focus!
She opens her mouth, undoubtedly to scream for help, but I grab a scarf I see hanging on the edge of her mirror and stuff it in her mouth, tying it behind her head with a tight knot. The woman whimpers, her eyes pleading with me as those tears break free and wet her cheeks.
I grab the syringe, needing her to stop looking at me like that when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, letting out a curse when I see it’s my boss.
I hold one gloved finger up to my mouth, letting her know to be quiet before I answer. She makes a whimpering sound that pierces right through me, nearly toppling me to the floor.
I squeeze my eyes closed and take a calming breath before turning around and walking out of the room, taking the call out in the kitchen. I can’t look at her while talking to Mario. I don’t want to think about his grubby hands on her.
