Forty-five minutes later, the swimming facility materializes before me. A fence circles a modern, single-story structure that features clean lines and a wrought iron gate out front. One guard mans the booth.
I could do this in my sleep.
I hop the gate on the west side of the guard shack as he’s facing east. The closer the better when you’ve got a gated entry. As I propel myself over the top, I peer through the window to ensure he remains occupied, practically reading his texts along with him.
People think the age of technology has made being a criminal more difficult. It’s just the opposite. Everyone’s caught up in their own shit or the shit of total strangers, glammed by social media, by the drama of it all.
As a result, my life’s gotten easier.
No one ever glances up long enough to see the murderer under their nose.
Inside the compound, I expect to find at least one guard or enforcer, in addition to the guy in the shack. It’s a swimming pool where mafia business has probably never taken place and never will.
With no intention to end any lives today, I walk straight through the doors leading to the pool and head toward the big guy in the black suit.
“Is this the Y?” I give him anI-come-in-peacesmile. “Because my Uber’s been driving in circles, and I’m supposed to meet my buddies for a pickup game.”
Cat’s guard stalks toward me. “Get the fuck out of here!”
When he’s close enough, with one hand on the gun at his waist, I launch forward, wrapping my arm around his neck in a chokehold.
He grunts and tries to shove me off, but it’s too late.
In ten seconds, he’s out. I should probably talk to Cat about upping her security quality.
I drag him toward the nearest door, where I find a janitorial closet. Perfect.
I set him on the floor inside the cramped space, steal his phone, and secure the outer doorknob with a metal lockout device. Then I place his phone on the ground up against the wall.
He can have that back later, after his time-out.
Now, to find my prize.
I follow my nose to the water. The burn of chlorine aside, this facility is state of the art. White-and-navy tiles glisten under bright but not obnoxious indirect fluorescent lighting. From behind a wall of glass, I watch Cat do laps back and forth in the fifty-meter pool.
Though I’d like to get closer to see those muscles in action, I can tell she’s skilled from here as she glides through the water like a blade. The movement is methodical. Soothing. I hope she enjoys it the way I do, because I’m all kinds of relaxed.
In the locker room, I locate a nice spot behind a white, honeycomb-patterned shower curtain, the first of three oversize showers in this expansive changing area. I guess that’s in case Cat ever has a playdate she wants to bring along? Surely no one else uses this space.
I shove down white-hot jealousy at the idea of another man and lean against the shower wall, biding my time.
Less than ten minutes later, Cat emerges dressed in a practical navy one-piece. Despite the suit’s modesty, my dick twitches at the sight of her through the curtain.
She unsnaps her swim cap, freeing her dark hair from its cage.Thick waves spill over her shoulders as she tosses the wet rubber onto the bench parallel to the lockers.
After peeling off her suit, she slips into the shower area.
Going past my stall, she enters the last one—just as I figured—and the hiss of water steaming out of the pipes fills the quiet room.
I’m pretty sure I saw a horror movie like this once. The villain hid in the locker room, waiting to strike, the final, virginal girl clueless…
I leave stall number one and rip Cat’s curtain open.
With a scream, she spins and covers herself, but her shock cools into annoyance once she recognizes me. Her eyes narrow, and she drops her arms, not bothering to hide.
Wise, since I’ve already seen everything she has on offer.
“I’d ask how you got in here, but all I want to know is?—”
