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I stand and smile down at her. “Well, Reese Grafton, I have a meeting to get to. Thank you for our predate to our date I will call you about.” My hand reaches for hers as I bend over at the waist, pressing my lips into the silkiness of her flesh. “It was a pleasure to sit and talk with you.”
She stands up, staying close to me, and the strong coffee smell from her pink lips draws my attention. “Thank you, John Peterson. I enjoyed being late for work this morning. Until next time when you attempt to educate me on the difference between soccer and football.”
“Oh no, no, no, say it correctly!”
She giggles again and walks away, speaking over her shoulder. “I’m sorry— water polo,” she sassily quips and dips out the door.
I swiftly follow behind, but I’m too late. She’s fast in those leather heels and is already across the street and waiting for the bus.
Smiling broadly, she holds up her phone, just as I feel mine vibrate. I immediately pull it out of my pocket.
Soccer! is the text that fills the screen. Reese Grafton, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.
The brakes of the bus screech when it pulls to the stop. The smell of diesel emitting from the engine burns my nostrils in disgust. After relishing Reese’s sweet espresso scent, the diesel fuel is nauseating. She boards the bus, and I watch it fade in the distance. Shaking my head, I walk in the opposite direction. I sent her a quick text back. Those lips are itching for a correction.
I see that she opens the text but doesn’t respond. That’ll do, Adam. Well done!
The bus drives away as I continue to walk down the sidewalk. The streets are clogged with the morning commute. The city is a mix of old versus new. The classic architecture of the historical buildings is in vast contrast to the modern all glass skyscrapers that adorn the skyline. I loathe the city— from the rush of pedestrians to the cars continually honking at the jaywalkers. People shove and elbow to be first to the finish. What the finish line is, I will never know. Vendors from all walks of life line the streets. From food, merchandise, pop-up electronics stands to classic news and magazine stands.
I stop by a newsstand and pick up a paper. The man behind the small counter is unfazed by the surrounding madness. Unfolding the newspaper, I see a picture of Reese in a hard hat standing in front of the York building. Glass encompasses the outside of the tall structure, and sunlight reflects off its smooth surfaces, illuminating the street around Reese in the picture. The York building is currently being renovated by the biggest financial tycoon, Mitchell DuPont, one of the men I have my eye on.
I smile at the picture. “I’ve got you now, Reese Grafton.”
I continue on to the apartment that I’ve rented for only a short time. This abode is a small loft that I don’t use except for one purpose. Walking into the cramped dwelling, I toss my keys on the bare kitchen counter. This cheap apartment is deprived of any comfort. There is barely any furniture in this dingy place. The bland wallpaper is covered by the dozens of pictures that fill the wall. Reese at work, at the park walking her dog Max. Reese at the coffee shop at the same time every day. Reese in her apartment in her skimpy pajamas. She secretly loves to watch the Food Network, even though she’s proven that she can’t cook. There is a picture of her meeting with whom I now know is Greg Johnson. He’s another person of interest. A second lead vital to my operation.
I pivot to face the wall that is opposite my photo time line to stare at the man I left bound and gagged, who is currently glaring murderously at me. Sweat beads off his head and his shirt is ripped. Dried blood mixes with his sweat. That has to burn a bit. He should’ve told me what I needed to know.
I drop the newspaper with the photo of Reese in front of my prisoner. His eyes glance down at the bleak paper, then return to match my glower. Reese is the hook and the trigger for this man, which makes her the perfect bait.
“So, Kevin Grafton, I met your sister today.”
CHAPTER 2
LET’S BEGIN
Adam
I kneel in front of his face and turn my head to the side. The stench of his sweat brings bile to the surface of my throat. Grabbing the edge of the duct tape from the side of his mouth, his eyes closed, prepared for the pain that might come. I rip it across, pulling hair, and dried bloodied skin with it. He winces in pain but doesn’t make a sound.
He glares at me through his black eye. Fury rages behind his green eyes. Eyes that match his beautiful sibling. His disheveled brown hair, which is a perfect shade of black at the moment, mixes within his beard, tangling together as it mats against the precipitation his body expels. He looks shorter when he is restrained.
“What did you say?” he whispers. Clearly shocked by the open admission that I approached his sibling.
“I met your sister, Kevin Grafton.” I smirk. “Reese.”
He pulls at his restraints, trying to come after me, but I don’t flinch. His disastrous attempt is admired. “You stay away from her!” His words are filled with venom.
I tenderly tap his face while leering. “You know what I was looking for. She, fortunately, has given me the next person on my list.”
His eyes give way to his worry. He’s been an exemplary prisoner and has endured all the torture that I’ve inflicted. It hasn’t been as bad as others since I know he is the lowest man on the ladder. His loyalty is admirable, and I can see now why he didn’t break —he’s protecting Reese. After speaking with her, I can’t help but feel the same way.
“No harm will come to Reese. She is only a stepping-stone. Innocent, like the people of the village. The one Mr. DuPont instructed you to wipe out!” I snarled while laying a hard fist to his cheek. He spits blood while his face contorts in pain.
“Greg,” is all I have to say. The small sweat that forms on his brow shows that I am on the right path. I narrow my eyes at him. “Greg is the one keeping you from talking. He’s got his claws in Reese to keep you quiet. She doesn’t know, does she?”
He says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. His displeased expression is all the confirmation I need. A mutual understanding has now formed between us.
“It’s not just Greg, is it? It goes up the chain of command at that building. All leading to Mr. DuPont?” I surmise.
