My boots hit the sidewalk with a loud thud and a woman walking by stumbles as she stares at me. I slam the van door shut, catching Reaper’s furious expression, and effectively muffling his threat of shoving small cakes down my throat until I choke. I take off across the street, my heart skipping with each step.
The target and her best friend walk east, chatting, oblivious to the chaos of tourists and locals swarming around them. Two security details, Rune’s shitty soldiers, follow behind them, eyes all over the place, but they don’t see me weaving between cars then blending into the mass of bodies behind them. I keep my focus on the two guards, assessing how they move, how completely fucking oblivious they are to the deadly weapon walking a few feet behind them.
I could take them both out within minutes, grab the woman they are paid to protect and be out of here before anyone realizes what is happening.
But that would defeat the entire purpose of the mission. Besides, the urge to snatch her up, take her to the estate and watch her writhe in pleasure beneath me, is a problem. And it doesn’t just rest with her. I’d love to get my hands on the sexy little redhead that we’ve watched just as long and just as intently as our target.
Stepping slightly to the side, I focus on the girls. They both wear tight jeans hugging perfect asses. Both in cute little shirts showing off their petite frames and sneakers on tiny feet. For them, it’s another weekday. Just Rune’s two accountants out for a day of shopping before Christmas.
For me, it’s a heart-thundering risk to be so close to them.
If only I could get close enough to smell them. See their eyes up close. Feel the soft texture of their hair.
Right now, I’m defying the direct order to keep our distance and stay well away from them. To wait, wait,waituntil the timing is right.
Delilah stops suddenly, dragging Cora by her wrist into a store. My throat tightens, heart beating rapidly, as the two guards take up position on either side of the door.
Fucking idiots didn’t even go inside.
I debate it for all of three seconds and charge past them, my eyes on my boots. Cold AC blasts across my face, and I mutter in relief as it brushes my skin, then pause just inside the entrance when I spot the girls looking at a rack of clothes.
Delilah pulls out a shiny black dress, holding it up against her body. The enormous diamond on her finger flashes garishly under the store lights. My stomach clenches oddly at the sight of it.
Fucking Dave Sobian. The sack of shit asked our target to marry him earlier this year. How the sick bastard convinced her he was worthy of her is beyond me, but every time I think about it, my gut twists, green thorny vines slicing up my insides.
She’s Rune’s daughter.
His blood.
Our revenge.
The reminder I tell myself more and more every day doesn’t settle as convincingly as it did years ago when we all sat down to review the plan.
It doesn’t settle well at all.
It leaves a cut-up feeling in my chest, and the more I repeat it, the less appetizing our plot looks.
Shelooks appetizing. Sweet and delicate.
Innocent.
They both are.
“Look at this one,” Cora says, her honeyed voice slipping over me warm and smooth. She holds up a slinky little dress that would barely conceal her curves.
My teeth gnash together, and I realize I’m in the middle of the store, staring like an untrained soldier. Like I haven’t spent years tracking a target unseen. I step aside and pretend to look at a display case of sunglasses and those little wallets with the wrist strap women carry all their stuff in.
From the corner of my eye, I watch as Delilah trails a hand over the shiny blue material. “You should wear it to dinner tomorrow.”
The image of the sexy little vixen wearing that dress out in public burns my insides. Just the idea of men looking at her sprouts another thorn of jealousy. Because they would. Look and desire and hit on her. She would likely take a man home in that dress. Then they would see her slip it off. See her pale flesh andall those little freckles. Sink their teeth into the delicate skin along her collarbone.
The image of my teeth nipping at her jaw, then Breaker’s, then Striker’s, as Reaper sucks at her bottom lip, nearly takes my breath away.
Shit.
I need to get a grip on myself.
“Can I help you, sir?” A female voice slams into my thoughts. I look up and see a small woman with brown hair pulled into a severe ponytail, leaning over the counter, eyeing me. “Are you looking for something in particular?”
