His smile grows, just a bit, and I wonder what a full, genuine smile would look like on that pretty mouth of his.
“See you soon,” Specter says, eyes still boring into me.
“À plus tard.”
I watch him walk out and exhale slowly to center myself again. Jesus, this man. I can’t fully wrap my head around his attention, but it’s become very clear that I better get used to it because he doesn’t plan to let up.
And maybe, for once in my life, this is a good thing.
CHAPTER 19
Specter
I’ve been standingin this alley for almost an hour waiting for the target to leave the drug house he’s currently at. I’m sure he didn’t slip by me somehow, but I can’t imagine what’s taking him so fucking long in there.
I glance at my phone again. No new texts from Phantom or Ghost, which is a good thing. It means everything is calm at Segreto. I’m still jumpy though. Still want to get back to Cashmere.
Twisting my neck back and forth, I blow out a slow breath, then light a cigarette. I need to focus. If he’s not out here in thirty minutes, I’ll need to switch tactics. I was hoping to be done with this job in time to see Cashmere dance, but I’m not sure that’s gonna happen.
Twenty more minutes pass before the target appears again. He’s different than when he went in there, more disheveled. He’s tucking his shirt into his pants in a hurry, glancing back and forth down the street before he reaches into the darkened doorway and pulls a woman forward. Even from where I stand, I can see that she’s not willingly following him. She looks cold, her hair is messy, and I’m pretty sure her makeup is running down her face.
What the fuck is going on?
The woman resists, trying to peel the target’s hand from her arm, but he’s rough with her, practically shaking her like a doll. She doesn’t go easily though, leaning down to bite his hand and running when he lets her go. She heads in my direction, and after a few seconds of shaking his wounded hand, the target stomps after her.
Oh, hello there.
The victim rounds the corner and smashes straight into me. She gasps, and I put my hand over her mouth, pulling her behind a dumpster. That’s when I notice that she is no woman. She’s a child. My blood boils as I tuck her behind me.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “But you may want to close your eyes.”
She nods, huddling as she kneels.
“Where the fuck are you?” the target shouts into the darkness. “I paid good fucking money and I’m not leaving without you.”
He turns the corner into the alleyway, but he’s looking in the opposite direction. When he turns his gaze to me, he squints, unable to fully make out my form in the darkness. Exactly how I like it.
“Is that you, slut?”
My jaw ticks.Just a little closer, you bastard.
“Go away,” the girl behind me yells, unknowingly luring the target straight to me.
He grins. “Now this doesn’t have to be this hard. I can give you a shower, clean clothes, some food. Better than what you were getting here.” He walks a little bit closer, but he’s smart enough to be hesitant.
I’m against the wall of a building, my gun locked and loaded in my grip, silencer on, not that anyone in this neighborhood gives a fuck or would react to a murder right before their eyes. Makes my job a hell of a lot easier that the target decided to visit this section tonight.
When he’s finally close enough, I step out of the shadows, my arm extended, and wrap my fingers around his neck, twisting him around and slamming him against the wall behind me in one swift move. He barely has time to realize what’s happening to him as I knock the air out of him.
“Hey, man, I just want my girl. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Marc Wiskowski?”
He pulls his head back slightly, gripping my fingers around his neck. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Answer me.” A small technicality, but I always like them to confirm who they are. Best to avoid any mistaken identity mix-ups like the one we dealt with years ago. I know it’s him. He matches the photo in his file, but I still like to hear it.
“Yeah, who the fuck are you?” he spits.
