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I grin ponderously, my cheeks flushed with excitement at the possibility. It's endearing that he believes all he needs is a lucky break. A single, small piece of paper that could land me in court. I chuckle merrily to myself at the prospect.
But, as with so many other instances in the last few weeks, my thoughts return to Heather. She had a natural talent with a gun; even simple sniping jobs were no problem for her. Sure, she wasn't an expert, but she was more than adequate for the job.
“It’s taking too long,” I mutter. I can't help but be frustrated with myself. It's incredibly satisfying just being around her, and it's difficult to recall why I approached her in the first place. I enjoy playing with her; leaving her alone after finger fucking her in the gun range. It made her nervous, and by the time I called, she was practically panting for me. “But I have to get a move on my plans. The longer I leave Shaw alone, the worse it’ll get for me.”
Not to mention, as much fun as it is to play with Heather, she has a job to do. I don't want her to think she's off the hook. I rub my chin before grabbing my phone from the desk and turning to face the window behind me. I open the app that connects my phone to hers, and I can hear her faintly, muffled.
“She’s talking about colors by numbers?” I whisper to myself, shutting the app that displays nothing but a black screen. A fond smile stretches my lips before I stand up to leave my office. “I hope she’s learning that there can be a balance.”
“Jack, there you are,” I pause as Robert comes up behind me, obviously heading for my office. Arching quizzically, I turn to face him, foreboding worms into my gut. God, he’s so tense all the time; his face is tinged pink up to his ears, scrunched and unhappy. “When are you gonna deal with Mayor Shaw? It’s been almost 3 weeks since you confronted her.”
“This weekend,” I answer, catching my cousin off guard. “She’s got an address on Monday, outdoors and public. This’ll be Heather’s trial run. I’ve been making sure she’s prepared. She’s gotten adequate with a sniper rifle in the last couple of weeks, so I’m confident.”
“What about Long?” Robert asks; I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, he knows about that FBI bastard before I do. Crossing my arm over my chest, I prop my elbow on my forearm to rub my cheek with the backs of my fingers. “If she’s in contact with him, do you honestly think Heather will be able to shake him if he gets a whiff of her?”
“It’ll be fine. I’m having Wallace make her prosthetics when she comes by after school. She insisted on it,” My reply makes my cousin grumble, but he jerks his head in a nod. “I guess, if she looks like someone else, it’ll be easier for her to compartmentalize. Plus, it’ll make her more comfortable. If we’re assassinating the mayor, I want things to be as easy and smooth as possible. We’ll see if my being cheap and not hiring a professional will pay off. I’ll send Jimmy with her to keep an eye on things.”
“Well, that’s more than I thought you’d do. That’s fine. What about her mentality? You’re confident she’ll take the shot? We’ve confirmed that the dinner she’s attending will be with Long,” Robert worries his teeth. I grunt in agreement, and he sighs. “If you say so, Jack.”
My thoughts return to Heather as I turn on my heel and walk towards the kitchen. She stinks at close combat, but her skill with a gun is undeniable. My only concern is whether she will actually take the shot. That is why I agreed to the prosthetics. Wearing a disguise or having an alter ego allows people to feel more at ease with their dark side.
Heather is still hesitant, but there are plenty of ways around that.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Heather
“Where were you last night?” I jump with a squawk of shock at the question, whirling around to find Liam standing at the opposite end of the living room by the stairs. He’s tense, an immediate wariness slithering up my spine when I meet his gaze. Accusation paints his face, and he points at me with a stiff finger. “Where were you, Heather?”
“Who the hell do you think you are to question me?” I snap, clutching my purse to my side. I can feel the gun inside pressing against my ribs, and a wave of panic washes over me. I'd switched purses, but I'd brought this one to Jack's mansion the night before. Liam winces and opens his mouth, but I stop him with a hand and a ferocious glare. “You don’t get to ask me anything about my life. You’re a tenant—and not a good one either. You never pay rent; if you do, you’re short and not on time. You steal my food when I tell you not to. You never clean your room. And you’re gonna stand there and ask me where I was like you have any right to know?”
“You’ve been acting weird since—” Liam starts, and I bark a laugh devoid of mirth. He tinges pink on the face, and I cast him a wild, quizzical look.
“Excuse me? Weird? What constitutes ‘weird’ in your definition, Liam? Ever since when? Huh? When you let someone break into my house?” I fling questions at him that Liam clearly doesn’t like, and my heart leaps into my throat. But there is something in his eyes that I don’t like—a certainty, almost like he knows something but can’t prove it at this moment.
I scoff, shaking my head. “I’m tired, and I am not gonna do this. If you don’t like how I’m acting, you’re free to get the hell out of my house. The door’s right there.”
“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” Liam sneers, throwing an insult at me before running for the stairs with a flourish. I roll my eyes, the adrenaline coursing through my veins hot and heavy. I set my purse down on the coffee table, sitting on the sofa with a grunt. My mind churns at the confrontation I’d just had.
Liam had never treated me like that in the two years we'd been living together. I cast a wary glance behind me. Everyone around me, including myself, has been strange since Jack Murphy entered my life.
My stomach tightens at the thought of him, and I grab the TV remote to keep my hands from tingling. The way he touches me, expertly guiding my body no matter what we're doing. He's so sure I won't land a fingertip when he demands I throw a punch at him. The thrill of knowing those hands could break me sings in my veins.
“I still don’t know why,” I whisper and shake my head. My cheeks tingle with the residue of plaster. Jack had agreed to get prosthetics made for me, but the process took all damned night, and my face is heavy and achy. Covering my eyes with my hand, I fight a groan. “I don’t need this today, or ever. God, I hope Liam kicks his own ass out. Who does he think he is, starting shit with me in my own house?”
Snatching my purse from the coffee table, I kick off my shoes and prop my feet up to look for my phone. The cold metal of the Glock 19 evokes such vivid, explicit memories that my gaze wanders.
Whatever job Jack is working up my courage for, he's keeping quiet about it. Trepidation has a vice-like grip on my heart, and I feel stupid; of course, this is all because he wants to use me. His horrific attitude lulls me into complacency with the way he touches me. My body is covered in goosebumps as phantom hands wrap around me. He'd been teaching me hand-to-hand combat.
Jack admitted that I wasn't very good at it, but I needed to know anyway. Under the bright lights of a gym studio, his weight on me, pinning me down, his skin glistening with sweat... It felt more like sex without sex than combat training. When I think of what he wants me to do, I sigh loudly, my arousal chasing away the ice in my chest.
“God,” I groan, covering my eyes as my face burns from the memories. Dropping my purse, thethudbrings me back to the present, and I jump and tense as the contents come tumbling out of the bag to spread across the floor. “Damnit.”
“What the fuck is that?” I stiffen at Liam’s high-pitched wail, my head snapping up before I can even reach for my stuff. Icy prickles race up my sternum as he stares unblinkingly at the gun. His face is filled with accusations, and I scramble to grab the piece and stuff it into my purse.
“It’s for protection,” I say as panic rises up in my gullet. Standing up on unsteady legs, I hold my breath as my heart leaps into my throat. Liam points at me with a shaking finger, his face going pale.
“You— you're working with them! Oh, he was right!” Liam’s rasping cry echoes in my ears as he hastily pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.What?But my mind stalls when he opens his mouth again. “You work for them! I’m calling the cops! I knew it! I knew you were acting differently! It’s because you’re working for them!”
