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Augustus, shrouded in his disguise, had been there when Tiberius had handed her the dossier of the man she was to extinguish.
She’d read the information on him. He’d been a domestic terrorist who’d gotten away with murder on several occasions because of technicalities. He’d run a lucrative drug trafficking business, supplying deadly drugs to dealers throughout the northwest.
Still, he’d been a living, breathing person.
PJ had refused to kill him.
Until they’d threatened to go after her family.
She’d taken the assignment, studied her target and discovered all the horrible things about him were true. She’d also learned that he’d been involved in the trafficking of girls, some as young as six years old.
She’d infiltrated his estate located on the rocky coast of Northern California, where she’d discovered he liked to take midnight strolls along the cliff. One late night, she’d waited behind a boulder and helped him accidentally fall over the edge.
The authorities found no evidence of foul play and ruled it an accident. Media lauded it as a fitting end to a man who’d considered himself above the law.
She’d rid the world of a man who’d killed others, supplied deadly drugs and sold girls into the sex trade. He wouldn’t be able to do that anymore.
It made her realize she couldn’t die and leave Augustus unchecked in his efforts either. Too many lives had already been ruined by him. He’d continue to abduct men, women and children and force them to do his bidding through brainwashing or by threatening their loved ones.
She had to stop him. On the few occasions he’d been around, he’d been surrounded by others. She’d never had a clear path to take him down. Somehow, she had to make a path and get in close. Sooner rather than later.
With his push to build his army, he had to be planning something big. He had to be stopped before more people were hurt or killed.
In the meantime, she had to continue in her role as a trainer for a man who didn’t seem to fit the radical extremist mold. She’d tried to warn him off meeting with Wiley, but he’d stepped right into the hornet’s nest. If she had refused to train him, someone else would have been assigned, and she would have lost a chance to move up the ranks and maybe get closer to Augustus.
PJ led Judge to the area where they practiced throwing knives.
Several targets were attached to hay bales. A teenage boy with dull brown hair and a young woman were busy throwing knives. Another recruit threw his knives at a vertical log set at a distance from the hay bales.
PJ stopped at the container where they stored the practice knives and selected two sets of six throwing knives tucked into sheaths. She wrapped one of the sheaths around her left wrist and handed the other to Judge.
He wrapped the sheath around his wrist and secured the Velcro straps.
“Throwing knives are not that deadly unless you’re extremely accurate with your aim.” She took out one of the knives and threw it at the target in their lane, hitting half an inch left of the bullseye. “You try.”
He eyed the target, weighed the knife in his right hand and threw it. The blade hit outside the target’s rings, embedding in the hay bale. When he frowned, she hid a grin.
“That’s good for someone who’s never thrown a knife before,” she said. “Stand with your right foot forward, left back. Hold the knife by its handle, blade pointed to the sky.” PJ demonstrated the hold and stance. “Then use moderate force. We’re aiming at hay bales. The knife will usually embed. It gets trickier when you throw at a wooden target.” She held her stance and threw the knife. It hit dead center.
She turned to him and nodded. “Show me the proper stance and hold.”
He held the knife, blade up, his right foot forward, left foot back.
PJ moved closer and touched his hand, moving his thumb over his fingers, realizing her mistake as a current of electricity ripped through her fingers and spread throughout her body. Immediately, she stepped back, heat filling her cheeks. She turned toward the target to avoid his gaze. “Relax, breathe and throw.” She tried to follow her own advice but couldn’t seem to catch her breath with Judge standing so close.
For a moment, he remained still, his focus on the target as if he hadn’t felt that jolt of sensation. Then he drew a deep breath, let it out and let the blade fly. It struck inside the outer ring.
“Better,” she said. “Keep practicing and work with the other recruits so that you all stop throwing at the same time when you need to retrieve your knives. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
His brow descended. “You’re leaving me?”
“I need to check on something,” she lied. What she needed was to put space between them. The more she was with him, the more confused she became.
She was the trainer. He was the recruit. That was all she needed to know. Not that his touch made her heart flutter or that she’d never craved a kiss as much as she had that moment before Tiberius had arrived.
What she was feeling had no place in her mission. This man had voluntarily joined TCW, though she doubted he’d known how radical and extreme the missions were that Augustus operated, or he might not have met Wiley on Old Quarry Road.
PJ spun in her boot heels and walked away from the man who was turning her insides to mush.
