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“I’m clumsy. Sorry.”
I bent down next to her, helping her pick up the jars. The wisp of her scent shot straight to my dick. No matter how many times I got close to her, the effect was the same.
And I’d become addicted to it. Craved it. And did everything I could to get her next to me, as evidenced by my latest pathetic stunt. I excused my behavior as research, because I had to figure out if she had anything to do with the shooter or not.
“Maybe you should stick to ordering online.”
I put another jar back on the tower that was slowly taking shape again. “How can I know if the lawn mower feels right when I don’t push it around before buying it?”
Her hand stopped halfway to putting another jar back up. “You’re getting a lawn mower?”
“Why is everyone so surprised that I’m getting a mower?”
“Because there’s no grass at the apartment complex?”
Oh, right.I hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe I want to add some lawn.”
She continued cleaning up my mess, and I helped as best I could, but kept getting distracted by watching her. If I believed in love at first sight, I’d say that was exactly what had happened to me. But since there was no such thing, I was puzzled as to why I seemed to seek her out whenever I could.
She shot me a tentative smile. “A bit more greenery would be nice.”
And now I’d be going to the garden center and adding planter boxes wherever I could fit them.When did I become so pathetic?
We continued cleaning up in silence since I couldn’t come up with anything else I could ask her. She was the first woman to literally render me speechless.
She put the last jar on top of the once-again pristine tower and turned to me with a half smile. “Thanks for your help.”
As much as I told myself that I was only trying to get closer to her to find out why the information we had led to her apartment, I liked spending time with her.
Once she’d disappeared behind the camping display, I bought the lawn mower and TV, then went to the garden center.
3
ARIEL
I wiggledmy nose in a vain attempt to stop it from itching. The bush I was lying under was smelly, something I’d only realized once I was set up. It was also the perfect position, and I was reluctant to leave only to avoid slight discomfort.
Blinking, I refocused my sight and prayed this would be over soon. I’d been motionless on the ground for almost two hours. If I sneezed now, it would have all been for nothing, and I’d have to start all over again.
I focused through the scope, but there was still no movement. I’d long stopped thinking of my targets as people. It was the only way to disassociate myself from what I was doing. I wasn’t a psychopath, nor did I take pleasure in my job. Pretending they weren’t real was the only way for me to keep myself from losing my sanity and myself.
It was a job, one I got paid handsomely to do. And do it I would. There was no other option. Once you were in, there was no way out. Joining Gladius had been the best and worst decision of my life. But without them, I likely wouldn’t be alive, so the drawbacks were worth it. At least for now.
The barn door opened, and I suppressed a relieved sigh. Adrenaline shot through me, and my body tightened, my finger hovering over the trigger. A boot-clad leg appeared, and then my target became visible.
I never knew much about my targets. The only information I needed to do my job was a name and location. This was no different. And I’d wasted enough time today. I needed to end this.
I squeezed the trigger, and the guy went down without a sound. Except for one unfortunate incident, I hadn’t missed a target since my first few weeks on the job.
After wiggling out of the bush, making sure my beanie was still covering my hair, I disassembled my rifle, then packed it back in its case. Before I left, I searched the area to make sure I didn’t leave anything but a few broken branches behind.
Creeping closer to the barn, I detected no movement. One rule I always followed was to check that the job was finished. I stuck to the tree line until I had no choice but to cross a paddock. Crouching next to the crumpled form of the man I’d shot, I felt for a pulse. I ignored the blood pooling under him, and the hole in his forehead.
Surviving a shot like this was impossible, but I’d learned early on to never assume anything. Unless I checked, then checked again, I couldn’t be sure. I took a photo, then sent it to my handler.
Shouts from the large farmhouse caused me to jump up and run. Dirt sprayed around me from the bullets hitting the ground, one grazing my arm. I didn’t falter and zigzagged my way to the tree line.
I slipped on something on the ground and went down hard. Not investigating the cause or what I’d landed in, I jumped back up and disappeared into the forest. The shouts grew fainter and eventually stopped. I climbed a tree, making sure I wasn’t followed.
