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My fists clenched at my sides when the bastard finally emerged from his apartment building, stepping out into the bright morning light. I didn’t see any of his fellow agents nearby. It was a Saturday, and he must have the day off. This might be my opportunity to get him alone in a quiet alley and…
Fuck.
Sunlight flashed over Evelyn’s platinum hair as she followed him out onto the street, tucking her body close to his for protection. It seemed she was finally ready to venture out into the world after her ordeal, but she would still be jumpy from the violence she’d suffered.
I had to admire her bravery. After her isolation for the last week, I’d assumed she would become reclusive because of what she’d suffered.
The memory of her tears glittering in the darkness played through my mind. I should’ve known she’d be resilient. She was strong enough to hide her distress from Crawford, probably to spare him from further worry about her wellbeing.
My eyes narrowed on him. The corrupt motherfucker didn’t deserve a woman like her. But judging by the way she pressed her body close to his side, she loved the bastard.
She would probably weep when he died. But I could at least spare her the trauma of seeing his dead body.
Was the coward intentionally using her presence as a shield, since his fellow agents weren’t around to watch his back?
I shook my head to clear the thoughts away.
His motives didn’t matter. I had a job to do, and if I managed to find an opening, I’d kill him today. I just had to hope that Evelyn would be separated from him at some point.
I rolled the tension from my shoulders and began to follow them through the bustling city streets. Anger heated my chest as I watched them together: she clung to him, and he held her as though he had every right to own the innocent heart of this fragile woman. Physically, he was probably strong enough to defend her from most men, but he would be no match for me. I had at least thirty pounds of muscle on him, and I was accustomed to killing. He might be corrupt, but I doubted he’d ended as many lives as I had. I’d lost count over the long, bloody years.
I didn’t lose sleep over it, and I wouldn’t feel so much as a shred of remorse for killing this motherfucker. Especially if it meant saving Evelyn from him. She’d never be put in jeopardy because of his criminal activities ever again. I would guarantee it.
As I stalked them to the crowded market, my attention remained fixed on Evelyn. She hovered close enough to the bastard’s side that I could tell myself that I was sticking to my task and hunting my prey.
But I kept watching her, my fascination deepening. She moved with graceful confidence, her shoulders straight and steps steady. She didn’t cower or cringe in the aftermath of her ordeal, even though this was her first time venturing back outside.
Did she find that inner strength because he was with her? Did she think he would protect her if she was threatened again?
My teeth snapped, cutting the inside of my cheek. The way she looked to him to keep her safe made my blood boil, and the red haze of my rage hovered at the edges of my mind. The sight of her small hand clasped possessively in his was almost enough to make me snap. I hadn’t been this unstable since the night I’d killed her kidnappers. It wasn’t like me to lose my shit, not unless my life was in danger. But now, I hovered on the edge of murderous violence.
Luckily for Crawford, she released his hand when they reached a produce stall. Some of the tension eased from my muscles, and I managed to calm my most feral urges. Watching her rather than my enemy soothed the beast inside me, preventing me from recklessly attacking the motherfucker.
As she reached for an apple, I noted the white flash of the bandage that encircled her wrist. A shadow of my rage tightened my fists. She was still recovering from what those bastards had done to her, what her piece of shit fiancé had allowed to happen to her.
I took a breath and forced my fists to unfurl, but my attention remained fixed on her. She moved with a dancer’s grace. Even the way her slender fingers trailed over the produce was alluring, her touch gentle as she considered the fruit, hunting for the best apple in the bunch.
Unbidden, a memory I’d long suppressed stirred at the back of my mind. My mother had been graceful like that, beautiful and pure hearted despite the grubby neighborhood we’d lived in. She’d helped my father at the grocery store, tidying the space whenever she took me to visit him during one of his long shifts.
I shook my head sharply, dashing the memories away. That was a different lifetime; I’d been a different person back then, a sheltered, naïve child. Now, I understood how the world worked, and there was no room for grace or tenderness in my life.
And yet, I couldn’t stop watching her. All my muscles coiled tight with the effort of remaining still; I craved to cross the distance between us so that I could touch her delicate hand and capture her attention.
I wanted to see what color her eyes were. I’d witnessed her glittering tears, but I’d never seen her eyes open. At this distance, I couldn’t make out the finer details of her lovely face.
I crossed my arms over my chest as though that would force me to keep my hands to myself.
She turned her face toward Crawford, saying something that made the bastard nod stiffly, a disapproving frown pinching his features. Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she flashed him a bright smile and brushed a quick kiss over his cheek.
I bit back a growl and forced myself to remain still as a statue, watching as she walked away from the produce stall, brown bag of fruit in hand. He shadowed her, that fucking frown still fixed on his face.
Evelyn approached a man who was huddled in an alcove, a sign begging for money clutched in his hands. For a moment, contempt heated my blood. The man could change his life if he wanted to; he just wasn’t willing to make the hard choices necessary to survive.
Something tightened at the center of my chest when I finally noticed the small child who was tucked close to the man’s side, clothed in a dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans. Evelyn leaned down and offered them both a kind smile, extending the brown bag in offering. Hesitantly, the child reached out and took it from her. The man nodded in thanks and said something I couldn’t hear over the buzz of the crowd. Her smile faltered slightly, twisting with sadness for the space of a heartbeat before she pulled it back in place.
Crawford wrapped his arm around her and steered her away, pulling her back into the market and away from the pathetic man who would rather beg than do whatever was necessary to provide for his child.
My emotions surged, making me feel oddly edgy. Evelyn’s compassion touched something deep inside me—the remnants of the innocent boy who’d been raised in poverty. But at the same time, I loathed the memory of that weak, helpless child.
