Blind Trust Excerpt

For your entertainment, please enjoy this eight chapter excerpt from Blind Trust: A Novel. This romantic suspense novel is a dual POV New Adult stand alone for mature audiences.

Prologue

I stood near the pier, awaiting the call to wrap up. Lingering eyes of a passerby caught my awareness. His gaze stuck for a sliver of a second, recognizing me, until he turned his attention to his path. Ignoring his unswerving stare, I focused on the robotic voice in my earpiece, informing the mission was complete.

Heading for the arriving ferry, commotion erupted behind me. I drew my gun, pivoting. A sharp pain struck my arm and I immediately became dazed, my surroundings dividing in twos before everything went black. My body crumpled to the ground as a searing pain coursed through me and my head connected with the concrete.

A metallic taste flooded my mouth as consciousness reclaimed me. My head was hurting so badly, I knew it had to have hit the concrete ground I lay on. Maybe I was slammed onto it and knocked out.

Slowly, I pushed up from the ground. The concrete was cold and rough under my hands. I was indoors; I could tell from the stale and still air.

I blinked. My surroundings took longer than normal to come into focus.

“What happened this time, Shultz?”

I cringed. That gravelly voice was the last thing I wanted to hear upon waking with a concussion. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing here. I didn’t know where here was.

“Where am I?” I asked, sitting up. There was a wall to my back and I leaned against it, placing my head against its cold stone.

“Once again, your daredevil stunts, reckless need to endanger everyone, and inability to follow instructions got you put on your ass.”

“Am I back in the States or still in the UK?”

His hard-soled dress shoes clacked against the ground as he drew near me. “You’re back home, in Austin.”

“What did you hit me with?” I pressed my fingers to my temple in an attempt to quell the pain coursing through my head. I had to have passed out; I hadn’t been knocked out. From the cottonmouth and sluggishness I suffered from, they had dosed me. Sons of bitches probably set me up.

“Something better than what they would have shot you with.”

I blinked again. A soft haze coated my sight but I was able to make out Agent Johnson standing two feet before me in his beige suit, bald head and shiny, all-black dress shoes. I stood up, using the wall for support. “Am I in trouble? Are you going to suspend me or what?” I examined the concrete room we occupied. It was brightly lit from a lamp hanging over a white table.

Johnson stuffed his hands in his pocket, glancing up at me from his bowed head. “You are suspended. I have no choice. Two months out.”

“Two months! For what?! We got the guy. The others involved have been―”

Cutting me off, he shouted, “We did get the guy at the cost of over five hundred K you can’t afford to cover! You were supposed to stick to the plan, Shultz. All we ask you to do is stick to the plan.”

“Your plan was weak! I did what was needed to accomplish what you sent me there for. It doesn’t matter how the job was done, only that the job got done. I’m the best man you’ve got on this team. You can’t afford to have me out for two months.” I brushed my hands through my hair, feeling the stress of suspension worsen my headache. There was no way I could afford to be out for two months. It was bullshit! Every time I gave an assignment my all and succeeded, they’d come down on me like I’d fucked up because I didn’t do it their way.

“That’s you young kids’ problem. You think the world revolves around your swollen heads. The job you do, we can get someone else to do.”

“Is that right, Johnson?” That was it. I looked for a door. “Let me see you get someone to do my job. Find someone better than me. No, find someone as good as me.” I headed to my left, to a metal door that was unfortunately locked. I banged my fist against it. “I’m out,” I told whoever was listening, hoping they’d open it.

“Take this time off, Shultz. A lot has changed for you over the past couple years. Since your brother Nixon got arrested for killing your father, someone needs to be around to help with your niece, Chrissy. Your mother’s sick and you need to take the time to help her. Use this opportunity to get yourself together. Make sure your family is okay.”

It irritated me that they knew every ounce of my life and Johnson mentioning my mother stabbed me in the pit of my stomach. “Don’t worry about my family.”

The door buzzed.

“I’ll call you, Shultz.”

“You’ll get my voicemail,” I said over my shoulder.

“We’ll talk soon,” he called behind me as the door closed.

“Eye and voice recognition required for entry,” a robotic voice requested from a screen when I approached the door to exit the lengthy hallway.

“Agent Kyle Shultz,” I told it, bringing my face close to the eye detector. I opened my eyes wider and a green light beamed out before scanning them.

“Agent Kyle Shultz. . . Identity confirmed.” The door slid open to the main floor of the Purcell Building.

A building I intended never to step foot in again after that day. No matter the cost.

“Kyle,” Grimmer stopped me before I could make it to the exit. “You leaving early?”

“No, I quit.”

Doubt overtook his face. “For what? We need you around here.”

I shrugged. “Apparently not. Johnson just suspended me for two months. Said I fuck up missions more than I help them. I’m the only person in this entire agency who has ever been successful in shutting down as many drug lords and crooked cops as I have. And for him to suspend me every time we come back from a mission, all because I didn’t do it his way is bullshit.”

“You know no one walks away from this . . . alive.”

“I’m walking away. Purcell and Johnson can kiss my ass. Plus, my mom does need me way more than you all. She’s getting sicker.”

Grimmer nodded. “Well.” He threw his hand out and I met it. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be around.”

I nodded and headed out of the revolving doors.

Chapter One
Kyle

“Hey, Shultz!” Rick, a student in my chemistry class, was jogging toward me. He was alone, which was unusual from him. He normally traveled with a group.

I reverted my attention back to my phone, though I was curious about what he’d want with me. I was standing outside the chem lab, waiting for a call to come through. The benefactor had some new names on a million-dollar hit list and I needed at least one name. I’d take one hit and count myself out for a while. It wasn’t that I was greedy, but I had debts and more than myself to take care of.

“Shultz,” Rick called again, slowing his jog to a halt.

My last name sounded better than my first to these people. It reminded me of being back with Purcell.

“It’s Kyle, not Shultz,” I corrected him, walking into the lecture hall with him following close behind. “Wassup?” I asked, taking another glance at my phone. Not one damn call was coming through.

“My bad, bro; you’re new here. I wanted to introduce myself appropriately,” he said, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders.

I wasn’t new. I’d been registered at the University of Texas at Austin for the last year and a half. After attending, maybe, two classes back then, I left to do other things. But I’d been back for ten months, sticking to myself, watching my peers, and observing my surroundings. I’d seen this guy over twenty times in a few of my p.m. classes.

I came back, fully intending to stay under the radar. Because I had fucked up some shit in the black market, a few agencies had me on their shit lists. Plus, my mom was concerned about my safety, constantly saying, “Kyle, I am not going to bury my son like I had to bury my husband. I’m not ready for you to die.” I promised her I’d lie low after I’d been involved in a few incidents that nearly got me killed.

Rick rambled on about what he did at school. He wasn’t the least bit self-conscious, I could tell by the way he carried himself; head held high, confidence in his tone, a constant smirk on his face regardless of what he said. He seemed easy going but stoic.

I studied him for a second. To help further my plan, I was in need of some friends. They would help make it look like I was actually involved in the college-boy life I forced myself to believe I was a part of. Befriending Rick could turn out to be a good thing.

I lightened my tone to sound accepting of my new acquaintance. “Yeah, okay, Rick. Wassup? What’d you stop me for?”

“Right, bro.” He grinned. He was the guy everybody knew. The benefit of hanging with him was that I’d probably be involved with everything and around a lot of people. They’d keep me busy and help me further my disposition. The downside of it was. . . I’d probably be involved with everybody and unfortunately around a lot of people.

“Let’s grab this row here.” He shuffled around me, scooting into a row of seats.

I needed to have a low profile as much as I needed to be known. Realizing that, I took the seat next to him.

“We have American Lit together. I watched you save that chick from choking on a Bugle.” He smacked my arm with the back of his hand. “If it wasn’t for you, she would have died.”

This skinny girl had been lugging down chips on a bingeing spree. I didn’t know if she forgot to chew or swallow, but she started choking and her face was going purple. Everyone, including the instructor, stared at her like they expected the Bugle to pop out on its own. I had to do something. Heimlich maneuver it was.

She was fine. I offered her my water, knowing her throat had to be sore after choking. Respectfully, she declined, sat, and finished the rest of her bag as if nothing had happened.

“Yeah, that happened. Couldn’t let the chick die,” I said, shrugging.

“Good thinking. I was just looking at her, hoping she didn’t die, you know.”

I nodded. “Yeah, man. I found out if you stare and hope real hard, you can save someone’s life.”

He laughed, shoulders shaking. “Aw, he’s a hero and he’s funny!” He threw his head back, laughing harder. With a chuckle in his voice, he asked, “Ay, you live on campus?”

“No, I got a spot.”

“Cool, me too. We should hang out sometime. You seem like a guy who likes a lot of action, girls, and parties. But could also be a good friend to have around.”

I did, and if I cared enough, I could. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Ay, Rick.” More of his crew came around. “What’s up, Shultz?”

Again with the Shultz. My last name had to have a ring to it. It wasn’t that I disliked my last name, it just reminded me of my ex-agency, and them I disliked.

I bumped fists with five of Rick’s guys. “Wassup? It’s Kyle, not Shultz. The instructors call me that because they messed up and registered my last name under my first name,” I explained, in hopes they would start addressing me casually.

“Oh, okay. Kyle fits you better anyway. Shultz sounds like I’m addressing a police officer.”

We joked and laughed, talking loudly about some gathering last night. My comfort with Rick and his friends was a little unnerving, but I went with it. It was something I’d have to get used to. New friends and congregating. . .

“You should come by tonight.” Rick hit my arm again. “We’ll be hanging out at Rob’s place. He lives over on Cypress Avenue. In that three-floor apartment building across from the Delta house.”

“Yeah, I live in the same building. I’ll stop by,” I said with a slight shrug to my shoulder.

“Ay, Rob. Kyle lives in your building.”

“Get the hell out.” Rob was a big guy; six-four, had to be over two-fifty. He played on the football team with Rick and was a decent quarterback. “Ay, man. That means I can come by your crib and get some peanut butter.”

I shook my head. “No, you can’t.” I tried to sound casual, but I meant it. I wasn’t a fan of drop-bys.

“Boys,” called Instructor McMenamin, requesting our attention.

I called her Winter, for reasons not related to her looks. She was twenty-six, a couple years older than I, and liked bending the rules. During class, she’d steal small glances at me, and if she looked at me four times too many, I was staying behind. Bad boy status.

The guys calmed down, taking seats around me. Winter stared at me for a while, and then looked around at my new associates. She knew it wasn’t like me to hang out. Especially with these guys. But it’s what the mom called for. Had to keep the heat down. Couldn’t have my mom burying me. So, friends it was.

Winter continued to stare, asking me questions with the pinch of her brows and crook of her lips. When she looked away they pursed, then crooked back when she looked up from her notes. She knew I didn’t do questions. I looked away from her. Don’t ask, don’t tell. I liked to keep my lives separate. There was family, friends, relationships―which I didn’t have—and my benefiting friends. That’s what she was. There was only one thing we did and that was as deep as we got. I couldn’t get involved with someone; I’d get too attached.

Unfortunately, I suffered from this disease called easily enamored. I tended to get too close and put too much into it. And these merciless women would take me and my love and tear both of us to shreds. I gave up relationships at twenty. That shit was for the birds. It wasn’t worth it after the last one.

Val

TARGET: KYLE SHULTZ, EX-PURCELL AGENT.

INSTRUCTION: TERMINATE TARGET.

SUB-INSTRUCTION: TERMINATE ALL RELATIVES OF TARGET.

I watched Shultz from across the lecture hall of our chemistry class, something I’ve done going on a year now. He’d finally found some friends and I wondered why the sudden change of heart. He sat, crowded by his new associates, engaging himself in whatever the conversation was. Kyle wasn’t average, unlike the guys who sat around him, he stood out. And I’ll admit, I enjoyed surveying him. He wasn’t at all hard on the eyes and I was embarrassed to say I could describe every feature of him down to a T. Six-foot-one, enchanting green eyes that lightened and darkened based on his mood, a trimmed boxed beard that complimented his oblong face, and a smile that could knock a girl off her feet.

From what I’d picked up from Kyle, he was a loner. Never got too close to people and never let people get too close to him. So him accepting new people into his life threw me off. And of all people to befriend: Richard Newman, the campus hot boy. Rick was very popular at UTA. He had all the girls falling all over him. He was also a pompous asshole. Kyle fit in well with Rick and his friends, but they didn’t seem like the type of people he’d associated himself with. The party-boy, loud-mouthed, rude guy demeanor didn’t seem like Kyle’s M.O. I could’ve been wrong, but it seemed to me he was more of a cuddle-up-with-one-girl kind of guy.

I received notice a year ago that Kyle was next on our hit list, along with everyone in his immediate family. As an agent for Cohen and Associates, I got the assignment. My instructions were to watch Kyle until I got the final notice to terminate. I was a secret agent, as was Kyle before he dropped Purcell and started doing business with a national benefactor.

His benefactor, Cunningham, was next on my list. We were using Kyle to lead us to him.

I leaned back in my seat, studying him. Kyle was a cutie. He thought nobody saw him, but we all saw him. You couldn’t miss his light brown hair, which stood up in the front and fell down in the back just the right way. His unyielding confidence that shined out through the way he carried himself with his strong posture and broad shoulders.

Everyone swooned over him, including the men.

“Hey, Val.” Audrey Herdul. She was perfection in warm-toned skin with long flowing brown hair, and clothing that accentuated every bit of a perfectly toned body. I couldn’t hem a fabric to hug my body the way hers did.

“Hi, Audrey.” I pushed out a kind smile. Audrey and I weren’t friends; the only time she spoke to me was when she needed something.

She popped her gum and said, “You get the notes from Anatomy? I only got the first half. Can I copy yours?”

I dug through my bag in search of my notebook labeled ‘ATY.’ Everything I had contained labels. It helped me keep my life organized. “Yeah, here.” I handed her my five-subject notebook stuffed with excess loose-leaf and computer paper.

She turned up her nose at my notebook like I was passing her a spoiled napkin. “Can you turn to the page for me?” she asked. “I don’t want to lose something important if I drop one of your sheets or put something back in the wrong place.”

I was tempted to tell her, with her perfect straight nose and her little pointy finger waggling at my notebook like it was baby drool, “No, you may not see my notes.” If she wanted them so bad, she should have paid attention instead of dallying with Tommy. But I was a peacekeeper when on an assignment.

“Sure, Audrey.” I flipped through my notebook until I found Tuesday’s ATY Notes, February 3rd labeled in the top right corner of the notebook page.

“Thank you, Valerie. You’re the ultimate best!” she praised.

I rolled my eyes and tended back to my target.

Our chem instructor called on Kyle a few times for the answers to her questions, but he avoided her. She always stole looks at Kyle and I often wondered if they had something going on.

Honestly. . .

If I wasn’t meant to assassinate him, I would understand.

Kyle was one of those guys the ‘bad girl’ hoped wanted her because there was no way she’d deserve his time. And dammit did this bad girl want his time.

Class ended and I gathered my notebook from Audrey and my chem notebook from my desk, stuffing them in my knapsack. Since my agency had forced me to go back to school, I should’ve forced them to provide me with all the essentials. A good bag, better clothes, colored hair, abs, a tan . . .but they didn’t want me to stand out or draw attention to myself.

I stayed near the door of the lecture hall to keep an eye on Shultz, wondering if he’d be doing something different today. He’d stayed behind.

He still hadn’t left ten minutes after class ended, and I lurked to find out if he and our chem instructor had been having a fling.

Instructor McMenamin approached Kyle, removing her glasses. She eased into the row and leaned against the seat in front of him, giving him a seduce me stance with her unbefitting intentions sewn deep in her dark eyes. They spoke back and forth until he pulled her onto his lap. She glided up his legs, pushing her hands over his shoulders as she leaned toward him. He avoided her kiss, his head dipping into her chest.

I had spared myself the disgust of witnessing the remainder of their illicit activities by leaving.

She was one lucky tramp. I hated to admit it, but seeing him with other women kind of irked me.

You know that guy . . . that good guy you never realized was a good guy because he didn’t look that way from the outside? But once you got to know him, he actually turned out to be really amazing? But because every girl had treated him so badly, he always kept his distance?

That was Shultz.

I had been watching him for too long. Secretly, I’d gotten to know him so well I’d fallen in love with him. I had fallen for his kindheartedness, his care for others though he tried to keep it concealed, his like for all the same foods I liked, and the way his ears moved when he got an idea. My employer had called a hit on the guy of my dreams.

Even worse, I was forced to see him with other women, watch him smile, know what could make him happy, catch him angry, see him get sad about his mother and sister, and watch him hide out. He was doing a good job at hiding from everyone but me. And I was doing a better job at staying unnoticed by him.

“Excuse me, Valerie Harper?”

Oh God.

It was him. He’d spoken my full name. Was he on to me?

I stopped on the sidewalk that led on a twenty-minute walk to my small loft. I built up my courage to see what he wanted, silently, turning around.

“This yours?” He held out my literature book. “I think it is. You answered to the name written inside its cover.” He opened the book, showing me my inked name in my handwriting scribbled in large letters on the outer cover.

I grabbed the book. “Thanks,” I said, letting my hair curtain my face.

I wasn’t shy, I was nervous. Nervous for many different reasons. One, I didn’t want to make an impression. Two, I didn’t want to give him the googly eyes. Three, he was kind enough to bring me my book, which totally matched with the real him, the guy who cares. And four, if I stared at him too long I would find twelve reasons to invite him on the twenty-minute walk to my place to have a warm cup of coffee, then off him in the kitchen. After, and I repeat, after I got him closer than clothes.

“No problem. I’ve seen you around before. You’re in a few of my classes.”

I’m in all of your classes. “No. Well, maybe in a couple. I think.” Don’t fraternize with your target, Val, I reminded myself. My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t stand it. I’d not yet been this close to him and it made me uneasy.

“I’m Kyle,” he said.

One year. One full year I had been around this man. One year I had watched him, studied him, designed so many ways to kill him without him seeing my face. One long drawn-out year, I’d tried to stay unnoticed by him. And now, today, three days before I was supposed to take out his dear mother, did he speak to me.

A frustration blossomed in me causing my face to twist in annoyance.

“Sorry. Kyle Shultz is my name.” He extended his hand.

God, and now he was making it worse. He wanted us to touch. No, absolutely not.

I clutched my book to my chest to stop myself from reaching out for him. Perturbed, I stomped my foot, rolled my eyes, and whipped around to flee his vicinity.

This was seven levels past bad.

“Sorry, did I offend you?” He ran to my side, quickly catching up with me.

“No.” I stopped walking. As I glanced at him, the remnants of McMenamin’s lipstick smeared on his neck stole my attention. I put all my weight on my left foot and crossed my arms, still holding my lit book to my chest. “Is there something I can help you with?” I purposely asked too harshly. I needed to put an end to this, and coming off as a bitch seemed like a good way to push him away.

His brows furrowed. “Yes. What’s up? You just stomped off on me like I was being a jerk. Did I do something to offend you? Did I say something wrong? All I was trying to do was return your book.”

“Sorry about that. I just really need to go.”

His lips drew to the side. A sardonic expression swept over his face. “Okay, I understand.”

“Hey, Shultz!” Rick yelled for him.

I restrained myself from looking their way. “Thanks again for bringing me my book. That was nice of you,” I admitted.

“Yeah. I can take a hint.” He jogged off.

Though my bitchiness served its purpose, regret and a strong disapproval for my actions climbed onto my shoulders. It added an extra weight to me that made my legs heavy.

***

“Cat.” I slid closed the heavy door of my loft. My roommate was a small cat that came and went as he pleased. I wasn’t sure what window he came in, but I got used to his company.

It meowed from somewhere around the kitchen.

I made sure the cat had some dry cat food and a fresh bowl of water. It often came near me, but we didn’t have a companion relationship. It didn’t want me to touch it and I didn’t want to touch it. Hell, its name was Cat. . .

I rummaged through the cabinet for the small bag of food I’d bought it. The bag was empty. I didn’t care much for the cat, but it relied on me for a meal so I headed out to the market.

I should have said to hell with that cat and its food. I’d never wanted to get away from anyone I spent so much time around as much as I did standing in line at the market a cashier away from Kyle. He looked at me, made direct eye contact with me, and his perfect emerald eyes rolled hard as if my presence just annoyed the hell out of him.

He tried to do that talking thing again. Back in the bread aisle, he’d said, “Bread, huh?”

I looked at the bread I held, gave it to him, and said, “No.” I walked away, carrying my small bag of cat food.

He just didn’t get it. Like, dude, I am here to kill you . . . this is going to be a lot easier on the both of us if we stop having contact. I guess that was too much to ask for.

I stopped looking his direction because each time our eyes met, he rolled his eyes even harder, looking even more annoyed.

I was happy I was annoying him. Good. If he got pissed off enough, maybe he’d stop flashing that perfect smile that weakened my knees as he laughed at Rick’s joke. Maybe killing him would become a lot easier. Maybe I could quickly get this over with and finally be done with him.

I walked through my loft, dropping clothes on my way to the bathroom. There’s trails of clothes leading to many different areas of my loft. Tuesday was not a cleanup day. It was a make a cup of tea, sit in front of the computer in my underwear and listen to Kyle’s calls as I throw my legs up on my desk and read a book day.

My life was unfortunately flooded with Kyle. I was hoping it would soon be coming to an end. I’d added in books to level things out, take me out of Kyle’s world. But in books with romance, I’d often wind up replacing the woman with myself and the man with him. I tried to stay away from romance novels. Thrillers and mysteries were my thing.

I’d dreamed over and over about taking Kyle out. Each dream ended the same way. . . I couldn’t do it. He licked his full lips with his deep pink tongue. His vibrant green eyes would narrow. The muscles in his masculine arms would flex as he readied himself for my shot. One word woke me up in a cold sweat. One word kept me from pulling the trigger. One word made me not want to do it.

The phone rang from the hall. It was the landline; it rarely rang. “Who is this?” I answered.

“Valerie Harper?” a woman’s voice requested from the other end. It was direct and prepared to deliver information I wasn’t ready to hear.

This drew on my discomfort. “Possibly.”

“I’m sorry, but I have some terrible news.”

Chapter Two

Kyle

BNFCTR: KS, I have two for you. 24 hours to complete. Name one: Alfred Greene, 250K. Name two: Levi Jeffery 1.2M.

I reread the text, shocked I had an opportunity for two names. I’d been waiting for that text all day.

“Ay, man. I’m sorry but I gotta go,” I told Rick. We’d just walked into his spot.

“Aww bro,” he whined. “You just got here. Your phone rings and you’re off. What is it, a chick? If you’re going to blow me off, she better be a hot chick. Not ‘the dude, hot chick,’ but an actual hottie who’s a girl. . .”

I left as he rambled on. Rick was cool. He took a little getting used to because he was loud and full of energy. But he was a guy I could hang around and know what I saw was what I got.

I tapped in Janet’s number as I walked to my apartment. Rick’s was three blocks from mine.

“Hey Kyle, what’s up? You got some work?”

“Yeah, I need a car. I’ll pay you when I come back. Go check on my mom for me in three hours. And make a note to send an e-mail to my instructors letting them know I’ll be out of class tomorrow.”

“I’ll have a Challenger waiting for you at Buns in forty-five minutes. I talked to your mom about an hour ago. I’ll spend the night at her house tonight. Yes, I’ll be there in three hours, I know you’re going to repeat it. I’m creating the e-mail now, sending it from your e-mail address. Who?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Please?”

“No.” Not like she’d know them anyway.

“Kyle, we’re almost like partners.”

I juggled my keys, running up the stairs to my floor. “Almost is never enough.”

“When you die, I’m going to put that on your tombstone. Because that has to be your favorite line for life. Almost is never enough,” she mocked.

“Alright, Arch, I’ll see you later.”

“I don’t like it when you call me Arch. It’s not cute.”

“It fits.” My door whined as I pushed it open.

“Nothing about me says Arch. Are you making it home?”

I smirked. “It’s not something about you, it’s what you do. Yes, I’m home.”

“Let me come by.”

“Nope.” I hung up.

Janet, Janet, Janet. . . I shook my head, thinking about her. I liked that no matter the request, she’d look out for me. We’d been best friends for eighteen years. Thick as thieves she and I were. With my mom being sick, she helped take care of her. My mom was like a mom to her, and Janet went out of her way to check on her or sleep over. Since I got back, Janet had been hot for me, flirting, trying to look sexy―her body arched just by being next to me. It was cute and I liked teasing her about it. But Janet was like a sister. I looked at her like a sister but it seemed she’d had a change of heart.

Grimmer: Someone is watching you, Shultz. Watch your back.

A text from my ex-partner at Purcell. He was my inside man. He kept his eyes and ears open for my name if I happened to come up on another hit list, letting me know who sent the name and who got the request for the hit.

Me: From who?

Grimmer: Unknown, I’m on it. I’ll update you when I’m updated.

I made a note to check with Grimmer in a couple days to see if he’d come up with anything. Two shit lists were enough; this meant now I was on three.

***

Yes! A chance at one point four million was just what I needed.

It’d been six months since I’d gotten a name. I had requested one four months ago. The job paid well. Who couldn’t live off a few hundred thousand, let alone a mil? But it wasn’t mine to keep; I owed Purcell over a mil for the shit I wrecked when I worked for them. My mom needed money to survive, I had to pay for school, the cost of living was far from cheap, and my little sister was a handful. She left at sixteen and I only heard from her when she needed something. I hadn’t the slightest idea how she was doing or what she was into because she wouldn’t allow us to check on her. She never kept a phone, knowing I could track it; never kept any electronics or e-mail. She’d always call from private numbers and they were different each time. Therefore, I always kept some money set aside for her.

Every name counted, despite the individual, because they each put money in my pocket. That’s what mattered.

I showered and headed out for Buns to pick up the car. Buns was a local burger spot not far from campus. Their burgers sucked but their fries and onion rings were pretty good. I walked there and spotted the Challenger in the parking lot.

Janet knew I needed something dark and fast. I sat in the car, examining it before I swung my left leg in and closed the door. The navigation system was ripped out, just as I had requested. The seats were leather and I could swear a bottle of Janet’s perfume had died in here. The keys dropped from the visor and I cranked the ignition, falling in love with the sound of the car’s purr. Challengers were my favorite, and I would’ve been looking forward to the long ride in it had I not been reminded of Janet every time I inhaled.

I left Buns to head to the school library, where I did my research on my targets.

Besides Janet and Grimmer, I had one more person on my team I relied on.

Reagan Skye.

I hated her and I loved her. I hated her because she broke my heart, and when I dropped her, she was the sexiest broken girl I’d ever witnessed walking away from me. She had strawberry-blond hair, perfect amber eyes, perfectly petite, and a brain smarter than Albert Einstein. I guess I wanted her to turn ugly after I dropped her.

Like all hot girls, she used that damn beauty to get what she wanted, played me, and then made me feel bad about leaving her. I loved the heartbreaker because she was the best damn PI I knew. She could find any person, except maybe my sister, at the drop of a dime. I needed her for that purpose and she needed me for the money. We used each other. And we were both okay with that because we knew a rekindling would never happen.

I sat at an open computer terminal in the library. Reagan’s phone rang four times before she picked up.

“Hi, Shultz. Who do you need?”

“Hey, Tulip. Check your e-mail.”

“Logging on now. Haven’t heard from you, Kit Kat. What have you been up to?” she asked sweetly, putting on her flirtatious voice . . . like she always does when I get her on the phone.

I flirted back. “Tryna make us some money.”

I could hear the smile as she said, “I got one, waiting on two. When can I see you?”

“You can’t. Where’s one?”

“How long do you have?”

“One day.”

I heard her keyboard and mouse clicking in the background. “Well I have some good news, but I need some heavy cash.”

“Name a number.”

“Six-fifty. . .”

What? “Absolutely not! For what?” I asked, disgusted.

“Shh!” Someone angrily hushed me from a couple computers down. Some guy with headphones and a baseball cap on, typing louder than I questioned Reagan.

“Guy, you have headphones on and are working on breaking the keys off your keyboard. Shush yourself.” He rolled his eyes and looked back at his computer screen.

Reagan grabbed back my attention. “Please, Kit Kat, I need it.”

“No, Reagan. If you need that kind of cash, ask the guy you fucked while you were with me. He’s got it, I’m sure. Jeff, wasn’t it? The Yale graduate, mommy and daddy million-dollar-account trustee.”

“Kit Kat. I’ve apologized. Forgive and forget.”

I crossed my arms, propping the phone on my shoulder. “Three twenty-five. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it, I don’t have a choice,” she said morosely. “I have to drop off something or it’s my head. I’ll come up next on your list. Anyway. I got one. He’s about seven hours from you, in Louisiana. I’m texting you the exact location. Two I’ve got about two hours from you right in Texas. I’m sending the location for him in a separate text.”

I leaned back in the chair, hearing her distress deep in her soft voice, void of her usual confidence. Reagan was always self-assured, her voice always strong and direct. It slowly faded as she spoke.

“What happened, Tulip?”

“I messed up, Kit Kat. Messed with the wrong guy. I did what I was good at.”

What she was good at was stripping you for all you had. For these guys, she’d make them love her, trust her, then she’d take every penny.

“I thought he’d be a good hit, and he was,” she said. “He drove a Bentley, graduated from Harvard, Mom and Pops were loaded. We dated for a couple months before I made my move. I thought he was just some guy, you know, someone I could quickly get in, get out, stay clean, and jet. Skip town.”

“I suppose that didn’t go over so well.” While she spoke, I got directions to the destinations.

“I got about twenty mil.”

I sat forward, shocked. That was a lot of cash. One rule I had taught her, and our group swore to live by, was we never got greedy. “You saw it and got greedy,” I accused.

“Hacked the accounts, wired the funds to an unmarked account in less than five minutes. In less than two minutes from the money leaving the account, Denis Reynolds was calling me.”

“Who?!” Not him! “The Denis Reynolds?”

“The Denis Reynolds.”

“Shit, Tulip. You were dating his son, Hayden Reynolds? The fact that he never dated women wasn’t a clue for you to stay away?”

“He was around women all the time. I thought he just didn’t want a girlfriend.” She sighed loudly. “Anyhow, I had already blown a mil. I’ve repaid all but six-fifty. I have seventy-two hours from ten tonight to get him the rest or I’m dead. Courtesy of D. Reynolds himself.”

“I’ll give you the six-fifty, Tulip.”

“Oh, Kyle! You will?” she exclaimed excitedly.

“Yep, right after I follow up with your story.” Reagan was a good liar. She reminded me of one of the girls from those Cruel Intentions movies. “If it turns out you’re telling the truth, I won’t make you wait. I’ll have the money wired to you before ten tonight. If it turns out you’re lying, I’ll be over tonight to make you regret it,” I threatened.

“Mmm, sounds like a win-win,” she crooned.

I knew her story was a load of cow shit. “Win-win my ass. You’re lying! You almost had me going when you mentioned Reynolds. But one thing you were missing.” I held up my finger in front of the computer.

“What?” she huffed.

“Hayden likes dick more than you do. It’s their younger son Cormac who’s the ladies’ man.”

“Dammit,” she mumbled.

“Stop being greedy, Tulip. Thanks for the spots, I got your texts.”

“You’re still coming by, right?”

“Never.” I hung up.

I got the direction to the exact locations Reagan texted me. She also texted me pictures of their faces. I figured I’d take the longest drive first, get a little shuteye, then head back and get the second before twelve noon. I’d have the money in my account after I sent the “completed” text, and I’d go visit my mom before night fell. Oh yeah, and I’d make sure to wire Reagan, Grimmer, and Janet some money before two.

I had my plan all figured out.

Val

No news is always good news. It’s much better than terrible news.

In this book I read, Before I Let You Go, this woman had lost every family member she’d loved to an assassination error. Conveniently enough, the main character, Julie, was out of town at a real-estate agent’s convention. But when she came home, every single family member was slaughtered, their bodies sprawled out in a pool of red vengeance by her front door. What hurt was she did nothing to the person that did it. The killer, the hitman, killed them by mistake―wrong family.

Her family was all she had and from that point on, she was ruined. Ruined like a melted oil portrait.

I got it. . . How ruined Julie was.

That was me, in my hallway, phone fallen from my hand, clicking against the hallway’s hardwood floor. I’d lost my balance and had fallen against the wall. The wall, at that moment, was my tether. It held me up and kept me from hitting the floor. I was ruined. I was unable to hear the officer’s final words after telling me my own mother and father had passed away after being in a car accident, courtesy of a drunken prick who thought it would be a good idea to drive.

The officer fucked up by telling me who it was. She didn’t know who I really was. And before I took out Kyle, twenty-six-year-old Hayden Reynolds would be first. Supposedly he was out on bail. Based on what police detective Dana Lianas from Missouri said, his parents were loaded.

Rich people never went to jail. They always got off scot-free. No. I believed in justice. In my book, if you committed a crime, you should be punished for it.

If I were to get caught for the things I’ve done, I would expect to possibly face life in prison or the death penalty and I accept that. Your color, your account balance, or who you fuck should not justify how you are punished. Everyone should be treated equally. This person, Hayden Reynolds, should be held responsible for killing my parents. It was against the law to drink and drive and he should be held accountable for their murder. Since the goddamn government couldn’t make sure of it, I would.

More anger than I could handle riled in me and I screamed out. Sadness enclosed my entire body as I slid down the wall to the floor. I slammed my fist on the floor, gritting my teeth, bulldozed with too many whirling emotions of sorrow, fury, defeat, revulsion, and resentment.

I thought long and hard about crying. I wanted to cry. I could’ve cried. But screaming was how I chose to release my pain, because if I cried, I’d want to be comforted. And there was no one here to comfort me. So what would I do? Lie in the hallway of my loft by the wall that held my phone and just, what, cry? Cry until my tears dried?

I was seventeen when I left home to take on a career as a privately contracted assassin. Fifteen when my aunt started training me. I was supposed to be strong and . . . alone. Death was supposed to be a blow in the wind, along with the desire to be wanted or cared for. I made up my mind a long time ago, crying only helped when you had someone to console you. To pick you up from the floor and say, “It’s okay, Val. I’ll be here for you.” They’d rub your back as they lay down with you and provide consoling words like, “Let it out. It’s fine. I understand.”

No one was going to come around the corner and say those things to me. No one was going to hold me until I stopped crying. My life dictated that I’d be a loner. Left to comfort myself.

I cringed, hurting, fighting back the tears that would mourn my parents, fighting back the want to be held at that very moment. To be consoled by a “It’s okay, Val.” I screamed again as a striking pain shot through my chest.

It was too much for me to take on by myself. I was hurting too bad and I could use a friend. I couldn’t handle this one alone.

Too lazy to stand and put the fallen phone back on the hook and dial another number, I grabbed my cell from my pocket and dialed Janet Porter while the landline beeped busy.

“Hey, Val. What’s going on?” She was already concerned and I hadn’t even told her yet.

I took a deep breath and released it. “I just got a call from a detective who said my parents were in a bad car accident.”

“Oh no, Val. Are you okay?”

I broke and the tears streamed from me like a rushing waterfall. “She said . . .they didn’t make it.” I choked up.

“Oh no, Val. Give me a minute and I’m on my way.”

“Thank you.”

“You know it. You’re my best friend. Of course.”

“The door is open. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Kay. Bye.”

I couldn’t move. My body seemed anchored to the floor. It was the only thing that kept me from floating away. Like a balloon losing its air and spinning in random swirls before it died, deflated on the ground, I would stay in the same spot until someone peeled me from the floor.

I was a fit of tears, balled in the fetal position, waiting on Janet.

My computer and phone constantly beeped, informing me of new e-mails, incoming and outgoing calls from Shultz’s phone and his whereabouts. For the first time in a year, I wasn’t the least bit concerned with that assignment. I refused to move myself from that spot on my floor.

All I could think about was calling my mom and dad and hearing them tell me everything was going well. Hearing them tell me how proud they were I pursued my dreams. Whatever dreams I had sold them because there was no way I could tell them I was a secret agent of an agency that branched off the CIA and I basically stalked and killed people for a living. No, I couldn’t tell them that. And at that moment, I felt guiltier than ever for lying to my parents for all those years. For telling them I had pursued a career as a supermodel, stealing the life of one of my favorite characters in this novel by Phillip Casselton called Away in My Dreams. Anderson was the girl’s name. She left home and pursued her dreams of being a supermodel, but was murdered at eighteen. Or so the book made you suspect. But really she’d faked her death, had her boyfriend played his role so well he’d gotten millions from a donation they set up. They lived off it for the rest of their lives.

My life was no storybook. Stealing Anderson’s ‘life’ had seemed pretty legit at the time. Now, I wished I had told them the truth. Even though they would have disapproved, I wouldn’t have felt so bad about lying to them. But they had died with a lying daughter. What a disappointment I turned out to be.

Maybe I should be happy they would never know who their daughter really was. How devastating it may have been to find out their daughter was a professional assassin. My mom would have probably offed herself if she knew all those years of etiquette classes and training were flushed down the toilet, or that I preferred to carry a gun instead of a purse.

My dad, on the other hand, probably would have patted me on the back and offered me a glass of Scotch, a seat in one of his big comfy chairs in his man cave, and started treating me like his son instead of his little girl.

“Val!” My loft door slid open. “Val,” Janet called again. “It’s me. Where are you?” The latch clicked as the heavy door slid closed.

I sat up, trying to catch my breath. “I’m here, Janet. In the hall near the phone.”

“Oh Val.” She came around the corner with a large bottle of vodka, a lime cream pie, and two forks. I love her. “Val, I am so sorry. I brought stuff.” She was the perfect friend. “I knew you needed stuff because I would need stuff if I sounded the way you did when you called me.” She bent down to hug me.

I wrapped my arms around her and buried my tear-streaked face in her neck. “Thank you so much, Janet.”

“I am so sorry, Val.”

Janet’s sincerity was so real, so honest.

She was such a good friend. I had no choice but to love her short haircut, odd pear shape though she wasn’t wide, long neck, and smooth skin. She was brighter than the sun and I loved every bit of her bubbly personality.

“You don’t have to tell me you’re sorry, Janet. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I’m sorry just seems like the right thing to say.” She sat next to me and cracked open the bottle.

I snatched it from her once the top was off and took it straight. Then I broke, hard.

“Val, you just let it out,” she said, rubbing my head. “You let it all out. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Well, not until like maybe ten. But until then, I am a shoulder for you to cry on.”

I ignored her and wept against her shoulder between swigs of her vodka bottle.

“I just wish,” I sobbed, “I had the chance to tell them goodbye. You know. Tell them I love them,” I whined.

“I know, Val. I know. I felt the same way when I lost my cat.”

“Your cat?” I asked, confused, looking at her through tears.

She wiped my face. “Yes, my cat was hit by a car. The only thing I wanted was to tell him I’d loved him before he died.”

“Oh noo,” I cried loudly. If that wasn’t just the news to make this moment even worse. “The guy that hit him was probably drunk tooahh.”

“Oohh Val,” she cried with me. “He probably waass.” She snatched the bottle from me and threw back a gulp as she cried.

Like two big babies, we moaned and cried loudly; she over her cat that was possibly road-killed by a drunk driver; I over my parents who I knew were murdered by Hayden Reynolds, who would not be living past tomorrow.

The moment I could gather my stability and stop crying, I was heading out on a manhunt.

***

“You know, Val, it’s like they say.” She stuffed a forkful of pie into her mouth. “It’s unexpected.”

I washed my pie down with another gulp of vodka that was now as smooth as water. I tried to tell her that I thought I had enough, but the words came out a garbled mess of unrecognizable syllables.

“What?”

My second attempt was worse than the first.

“I’m not understanding what you’re saying. It’s all gibberish, Val. I think you’ve had enough. Maybe you should eat more pie.”

I nodded and shoved another forkful in my mouth. It was tasteless but cold and soothed my sore throat.

“When was the last time you talked to them? Take your words slowly.”

I cleared my throat, hoping it would take away the slurs that were present in my speech. “Yesterday . . .morning,” I replied.

“Okay, that’s not too bad. I know you and let me say this, Val. They know you loved them. And they loved you. Don’t think about ways you could’ve changed some things. You don’t want to crowd yourself with that type of negativity or focus on things you don’t have control over. And lastly, Val, don’t be vengeful. Keep a happy heart.”

“Thanks, Janet. I feel so heavy. And drunk. And a little hungry. I just want to kill the bastard that did it.”

“I’m not sure of everything you said, but I got kill and bastard.”

I nodded. “Good enough.”

“Good enough?” she guessed. I nodded again. “Okay, that’s enough vodka for you, my lady friend,” she said. “I will be staying the night over here with you. I had other plans but this is way more important than staying with my friend’s mom.”

“What friend?”

“Oh, my guy friend Lewin.” She became uncomfortable talking about Lewin. She had mentioned him before; I thought nothing of it until she made a call and the same instant, the alert for Kyle’s incoming calls beeped from my computer. Luckily, my computer was always locked and only I knew what each sound it made meant.

“Hey, I know I said I’ll be staying at your mom’s house but I have something else to do. I stopped by for a few hours earlier and she was fine.”

I tried to focus on her facial expressions but my head was spinning.

“Hey, don’t be mad; I have a life too, you know. And it does not revolve around you,” she blurted angrily.

“Janet, it’s fine, you can go be with his mother.”

“Do you hear this?” she blurted into the phone. “My friend needs me. She can’t make coherent sentences. Say something else, Val.” She tucked the phone in my face.

“Something else.”

“See?” She whipped the phone back to her ear. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She slammed the phone down on the empty box the pie had come out of. “God! Men! Can you believe them? They think the world revolves around them or something. Like, um, Lew and I have been friends for years. He’s the greatest. But sometimes he can be such a, I don’t know . . .too much.”

“You don’t have to stay, Janet. If it’s a problem, you can go be with his mom.”

“I’m not sure about everything you’re saying, but I picked up on mom. So I’m going to assume you’re telling me to go, but I’m not leaving. I love him, but I love you too. His mom is clearly alive and right now you need a friend. Come on. Let’s get you showered, clothed, and on the couch with a loaf of bread to suck up that alcohol.”

“Bread?”

“Bread?”

I nodded.

She nodded.

“Bread,” we agreed.

She helped me from the floor and tried to take the bottle from me. I held it tight, clutching it to my chest. “You don’t have any bread?”

I shook my head, feeling something cold squish between my toes. “Eww!”

“Well, I understood that. You just stepped in the pie, didn’t you?”

“I’m going to track this stuff to the damn bathroom,” I groaned, irritated.

“It’s okay, I’ll clean it up.” She dragged me to the bathroom. “I’ll clean up your whole place. I can tell you don’t do between-Tuesdays cleanups. There are clothes everywhere. For a person as organized as you, you’d think your home would be spotless.”

“Uh huh,” I muttered, trying to keep my eyes open.

Chapter Three

 Kyle

I never asked questions to find out how peoples’ names came up on hit lists. And I can’t exactly explain how I got involved in this line of business. It just happened that, as I was walking out of the Purcell building the day I quit, I ran into one of my army buddies. Ralph Watson was his name. Tall, dark-skinned guy with a tattoo of one of those evil skull faces on his bald head with the white face and black around the eyes. He made it his business to bow his head when he met people, just to freak them out because he had a white face on his black head. I found it pretty freaking hilarious.

Ralph told me it was hard finding work after he was sent home from being blown up, and he ended up working with a man that let him use his army skills to make money. Best damn sniper I ever met, Ralph was. And when he mentioned that, I got an idea of what he was involved in.

Seeing I had just quit Purcell, I was conveniently in need of a new job.

Purcell had requested me after three years of being enlisted in the U.S. Army. I had acquired better training than a lot of the others and they wanted to use my “elite skills” to help the government. They used me and I was happy to quit them. I wished I’d done it sooner, but the pay was good and I needed it. It’s peculiar how the economics of life can twist the person you want to be. The person you think you are.

My mark, Greene, was at a hotel gathering. He was the host.

I had a couple of ways I could take him out. I could wait for him to come out, but who knew how long that would take. Or I’d have to go in, catch him alone, and take care of it that way. Only thing was, going in, being around all those people put my face in the spotlight.

I couldn’t be seen. I was on two hit lists I knew about and now some new one. But I had to do something. After the long drive out here, waiting was out of the question.

“Excuse me.” I approached a woman sitting alone in the bar of the hotel. She had the look: young, tight skirt, and loose blouse with enough cleavage showing to draw in an old man like Greene. If she had the squeaky voice to match, my plan would be successful.

“Yes?” she squealed.

Perfect.

She smiled; it was obvious she was older than she looked, and Botox was likely her best friend. “May I help you with something, young man?”

I took the seat next to her. “Are you here alone?”

“I am now,” she said, grabbing a coat slung across the back of her chair and throwing it behind the bar. “How can I help you?” Her hand cupped her chin as she leaned her elbow on the bar’s counter.

I grabbed her thigh and turned her to face me. She was cold but quickly warmed the longer my hand stayed on her leg. “Sweet talk me,” I ordered.

“Right now?”

“Obviously.”

She batted her eyelashes. “And where will this lead?” She puckered her lips, turning her head a little more my way.

“Wherever you want it to.”

“I can show you a few things if we leave this bar. I can take you to my room and let it talk for me.” She was good enough.

“Tell you what. I got this friend. He’s out for a good time. I need you to use this . . . talent and help him out tonight.” I pointed at her in an impertinent manner.

“And what about you?” She bit her bottom lip, cocking a brow.

Bland and uninterested, I said, “You can have me after.”

“What’s in it for me?”

I slid my hand up her skirt to grab the side of her ass. “What do you want?”

She gasped. “Young boys sure have some strong hands.”

My lips twisted into a wicked grin. “What do you want?”

“I don’t give my love away for free. Not to kids or friends.”

I laughed. I knew she was hookin’. “What’s your price?” Hookers were the best to run a hit with. They would get you your man, take your money, and keep their mouths closed.

“If he takes the full ride it’s ten thousand.”

“You get him alone with you in a restroom. That’s all I need. You don’t have to turn tricks. Get him out of that ballroom and get him in the furthest restroom. If you choose to suck him off to distract him a bit, that’s fine too. I’ll give you eighty-five hundred.”

“Fine. Cash first.”

“No, that’s not how your business runs.”

She growled and glared at me. Her hand fell from her chin, smacking the bar’s counter.

I leaned back in my chair. “Take it or leave it, Toots.”

She stood. “I’ll take it. And throw in an extra five for the grab.”

“You liked it. It’s free.”

Her hands flew to her hips and her eyes narrowed. “I like your game, kid. Who is it?”

“Alfred Greene.”

Her interest sparked. “Oh, Attorney Greene. I’ve had my eye on him since he walked through these doors.”

“Do it now. Wait for me outside by an all-white Hummer. I’ll have your payment.”

“My payment of nine thousand dollars.”

“Your payment of eight thousand. I’m knocking off five hundred by the half hour.”

She trotted off, ass tighter than her skirt. I’d have to remember to wash my hands after this. The bar area was dark with soft yellowish lights lined along the top of the walls. It was mostly empty, save for a few at the bar and a couple at a far table.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I get you a drink?” I turned on my stool to face the blond bartender who looked about my age.

“No man, I’m alright. I’ll be out of here in one second.”

“There is a sitting charge,” he said.

I dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.

“Sit as long as you want.”

“Yeah. Bring me some hand sanitizer.”

Nineteen minutes later, Toots was walking out with Greene. He looked about five-nine, two hundred ten pounds. He was so damn touchy the hooker didn’t even like it. And he didn’t care how many people could see him grope this woman in public. The hotel’s lobby was nearly full, and he caught a few disapproving eyes.

I got up when they hit a corner and followed behind them, keeping a good distance. She trailed him down a long hallway the people milling around started to lessen. Once she got him into a restroom, I waited five minutes before going in behind them.

“I’m sorry, this area is occupied,” Greene’s heavy voice called from a stall.

“Thanks, Toots,” I said.

She walked out of the stall, wiping her mouth and straightening her skirt. “I’ll be waiting for you.” She winked.

“Uh huh, see you in a bit.”

She left the restroom.

Greene’s drunken eyes settled on me.

“Hi, I’m Kyle Shultz. You don’t know me, but that’s okay. Very shortly, it’s not going to matter.” The man was getting higher by the second. “Pull your pants up and come on.”

If he passed out, he would be way too big for me to carry. And he didn’t seem to comprehend pulling up his pants.

I’d been hoping I could get him to another room; I didn’t want Toots to come back snooping around and see him dead. She’d know it was me. But what the hell. I had her as an accomplice.

As I screwed the silencer onto my gun, I watched Greene haze in and out. He was ultra-drunk, head swaying as he tried to keep his eyes open.

The execution always got me. Just at the moment I planned to go through with it. I’d be good until the last minute. Right before. . .

I breathed. “Seriously, I don’t know what you did,” I said. “But I’m sorry you fucked up and I have to punish you for it. On a lighter note, it will live with me longer than it will live with you.” I sucked in my pride as I inhaled, and blew out my regret as I pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit Greene in his head as he stood. He fell back, sitting on the toilet, pants still down.

I snapped a shot of the hole in his head, just in case they needed proof, and then I left the hotel. I found Toots near someone’s white Hummer. I hadn’t actually known there was going to be a white Hummer in the parking lot. Cool.

I dropped eighty-five hundred in her hands and headed to my car.

I thought she’d go back into the hotel, but she got in a Beemer and pulled out with another guy. Maybe someone she met in the parking lot while she was waiting on me.

I texted the number that texted me earlier.

Me: One is out.

Two minutes later my phone alerted me of a new e-mail that let me know I just had a deposit.

I liked this guy, whoever he was. He didn’t make me wait around and he trusted me. He didn’t know me from a can of paint, but he always took my word for it.

My original plan included a nap but Janet told me she couldn’t keep an eye on my mom tonight and I needed to hurry back to town. She blew my mom off for some drunken friend of hers. She had some nerve. I bet that girl didn’t even know who Janet really was and they called each other best friends.

Me: Janet, I’m texting you again, letting you know how bad of a friend you are. Don’t text me back. I’m not your friend for the next day and a half.

This drive back is going to take forever, I thought as my phone buzzed with a text. Probably Janet responding after I specifically told her not to text me back.

Arch: Shultz! You cannot do that. Plus, you love me toooo much. I’m sorry.

Me: It’s illegal to text and drive.

Arch: Sad Face!

I cranked up the radio, ignoring her.

***

“Kyle, you need to come to this house right now!” my mom shouted through the phone.

I didn’t know why I answered the damn phone in the first place. “Mom, I’m in the middle of something right now. I’ll be over there as soon as I wrap it up.”

“No, Kyle. Now!” she yelled.

“Mom, why are you always yelling about something?” I pulled the phone away from my ear, awaiting her shout.

“Kyle, I expect to see you in forty-five minutes.”

“Mom, I am over an hour away from your house. I’ll be over in eight hours. Take it or leave it.”

“No.” She hung up.

Shit . . .

I’d never know what I did to that woman to make her yell at me day in and day out. I thought I was a good kid. . . Maybe. But my mother was always yelling. She shouted my name, shouted me orders, and anything else she wanted to get across to me. Maybe she just thought I was used to hearing people yell all the time, since I was in the army. But I enlisted when I was seventeen; she was yelling long before that.

The time was around ten a.m. I was tired and just now making it to Levi’s house. Luckily, he was a loner. I liked the loners. No witnesses, nothing to wait around for. Sometimes this job was too easy.

This was number two, worth over a million dollars. Whatever this guy did, I was very happy about it. Wait. . . That made me sound really bad. I wasn’t happy he had to die, nor was I happy that I had to kill him. Actually, there was no way for me to rectify that statement, it all sounded bad.

I snuck through his back door and crept upstairs to his bedroom. I lay beside him in his bed. He slept soundlessly . . . peacefully. The thought of a quick catnap grew heavy on my mind. That incredibly long drive had taken a lot out of me.

Levi yawned, stretched, and blinked before he noticed my presence.

I jabbed a needle in his neck before he was able to focus on me completely.

After shooting Greene, that was enough blood for today.

Levi’s eyes grew hazy as he stared at me in confusion, searching his neck for the needle I’d already removed.

“Hi, Levi,” I said, capping it. “I’m Kyle Shultz. You don’t know me, but in a minute it won’t matter.” I stuffed the needle in my pocket. “Seriously, I don’t know what you did. But I’m sorry you fucked up and I have to punish you for it. On a lighter note, it will live with me longer than it will live with you,” I concluded, watching him lose focus, his head droop to the side, and his eyes close.

I took the pic, sent the text, and took a catnap in his living room. Not that I wanted to be disrespectful to the dead man, but I was truly tired. I mean dragging-my-legs tired. And the car would not have been comfortable.

Arch: Did you make it back, Kyle? Can you please go talk to your mom?

Me: Do I know you?? Your day and a half is not up.

I was going to see my mom. I just needed to finish my job first. I was thankful I was able to finish before my twenty-four-hour time limit was up. I decided that I would go home, clean up, and change before I went to her house. This talk with my mom was going to run me all night. She’d probably come up with thirty things to accuse me of or blame me for. She had too much time on her hands; her mind ran rabid with thoughts and senseless ideas.

Rick’s car was sitting on the street in front of my apartment, and he and Ron were standing at the main door.

“I hoped I’d run into you here,” he said when I walked up to them. His smile was wider than his shoulders.

I pushed the door open. “Wassup?”

“You stood me up yesterday. I came by to catch up.”

I walked through the main door with him and Ron on my heels. “Are you gonna be one of those guys I end up dating because he won’t leave me alone?”

“Definitely. I’m going to be your new boyfriend. Get used to me, baby, I like commitments.” They climbed the stairs behind me up to the second floor of my apartment building.

I stuck the key in my door. “I’m not your type, Rick.”

“I don’t have a type. But you have potential. All jokes aside, I wanted to hang out.” He followed me in. “You need some friends anyway.”

“If I don’t have friends, what makes you think I want them?”

“Everybody wants a friend.”

“Not me.” I walked to my room and he followed me there, too. “You mind giving me a little personal space?” I asked with my arms thrown out at my sides.

“I don’t believe in personal space when I’m starting a new relationship.” He said it so seriously that I looked over my shoulder, checking his facial expression. It held amusement and humor as he looked around my room.

I laughed. “I’m going to change. Don’t check out my body.”

“Oh, yeah,” he sang. “Jackpot!”

I shook my head, looking through my closet for a button-down shirt. I needed something to make my mom chill out. If I walked in with an all-black tee shirt, all-black jeans, and my boots, she’d know I was up to something.

“Ay man, why your pad so big? My spot looks nothing like this,” Ron yelled from the front.

“I asked for it,” I called back, pulling my shirt over my head.

“Shit, bro, you’re ripped.”

“I thought I asked you not to check me out.”

“No homo. I’m not into guys but I compliment when it’s owed. I know a good-looking guy when I see one,” Rick said, standing by my dresser, which was further in my room by the balcony doors. Originally he had been looking in the mirror, but I apparently distracted him from himself.

“You say no homo, looking at me with googly eyes. Look in that drawer behind you and throw me a tee shirt,” I said, pointing.

“Ay bro, how do you get your hair to stick up like that in front? You use gel or something?” He rummaged through my drawer and found a shirt he thought was suitable and threw it at me. All he really needed to do was reach in, grab the first shirt his hands could touch, and toss it to me.

I caught it and pulled it over my head as I walked over to the mirror. “No. It actually just does that on its own.” I checked out my hair in the mirror behind him. I ran my fingers through it. All it did was stick up, I wished it would lie down or push back. But hair wasn’t my thing. I didn’t put any effort into perfecting it. Wash and dry was it, along with the occasional haircut.

“I wish I could get my hair to do that.” He admired himself in the mirror, playing with his blond-streaked hair. His might have been the same length as mine, but it laid down.

Lifting my arms, I checked myself to make sure I didn’t stink. I was good. “I had intentions on showering.” I walked over to my full-length mirror next to my dresser as I buttoned the blue-plaid shirt I pulled from the closet. “But with you here, I’m scared you might jump in with me.”

“Why are you always going somewhere? Don’t you sit down at all?” He stood next to me in the mirror, looking like he was checking our heights and comparing his physique to mine.

“I’m much bigger than you, bro, and I’m taller too by a couple inches.”

He grinned. “I knew you’d fit in well with me. You know me so well already. How’d you know I was looking?”

“Because you’re into guys,” I joked. “I gotta go check on my mom before she sends the Feds out for me. I’ll come by when I’m back.”

“Okay. Ron! We’re out, Kyle’s gotta go.” He smacked my arm, keeping me from walking away. “Real quick, before you leave, make a muscle.”

I raised my left arm and flexed. He mimicked me and looked back and forth at his arm and mine.

“Dammit!” he blurted, slapping my arm down. “Well, at least you don’t look better than me.” He smoothed his hands over his low-cut beard, smirking.

I laughed and left the room. He reminded me of my brother Nixon. It was kind of comforting and kind of weird at the same time.

Ron had made himself comfortable on my couch with a beer and a protein bar, getting crumbs on my damn floor. He stood and a few more trickled onto the coffee table.

“Ron, before you leave, there’s a vacuum in the closet and make sure you clean that table. Just because you’re a big guy does not mean you have to be a slob. Clean that shit up.”

“He’s a neat freak,” Rick stated conclusively. “Please go beg your mom to go back twenty-four years and fuck my dad instead of your dad so we can be brothers.”

“Dude, you are too weird,” I told Rick, shaking my head.

He slapped my shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. I’ll see you later. Ron, make sure you clean that up. You don’t come to someone else’s home and messy it up. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ron said, grabbing the vac.

My phone buzzed. “Hello, Mom. I’m walking out the door, on my way over right now.”

“He sure is, Mom,” Rick yelled into the phone, too close to my face. “He’s kicking me out the door right now so he can make it to you.”

I pressed my hand to his face, pushing him away.

“Who was that, Kyle?” Mom asked.

“Richard.”

“You met a new friend?”

“Yeah, I guess.” The vac turned on, drowning her out. “Mom, I can’t hear you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Val

I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by an eighteen wheeler truck. “Ugh. . .” I groaned. “Water. . .”

“Oh good, you’re alive,” Janet cried, coming around the corner.

I rubbed my eyes, looking around my living room at my lavender walls, a bookshelf that seriously needed a twin, and the pictures on my far wall. Immediately, I remembered Hayden Reynolds and my mom and dad.

“Here. It’s water. Drink it.” Janet passed me a large glass.

“Thank you.” I sat up and the truck ran into my forehead, right between my eyes. “Oh,” I groaned, reaching for my head. “I need major aspirin.”

“I’ll get it.” She jumped up and ran to the bathroom. I could hear her shuffling through the medicine cabinet.

My living room was oddly clean. I mean really clean. I never kept it this clean. “Janet, what time is it?”

“Three thirteen.”

I drank the rest of the water and looked behind me, out the window. “It looks like it’s three in the afternoon.”

“That’s right, Val. With how bright it is, you couldn’t have possibly thought I meant the morning.”

She handed me a bottle of aspirin.

“No, but I hoped for it.” I’d slept incredibly late. So many things could have happened between whatever time I passed out yesterday until now.

“Your computer has been beeping and ringing and making all types of noises. You have so many phones around here I can’t tell which one is ringing. There’s this little red light that has been blinking all night in your bedroom. It started to freak me out so I closed the door, but when we didn’t blow up after a few hours, I stopped panicking and thought that maybe your vibrator was running low on batteries or something. I cleaned up. I told you I would. Your place was a pigsty. I washed your clothes, folded them, and put them on your bed. I even folded two of your white towels into those cute little doggies hotels leave on your bed. Just to make it special. I also made you breakfast and called the instructors I know of and told them you wouldn’t be making it to class. Now, tell me you love me and I’m the best friend you’ve ever had because I have to go. I have my first class at four today.”

I leaned my aching head back on the couch. “Janet, you’re the best person who has ever lived. Thank you so much. I love you and you are the best friend I’ve ever had. Thank you again.”

She kissed my forehead. “No problem. I’m sorry about what happened and if you need anything let me know.”

Despair slowly crept in as I thought about my parents. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

“If you’d like, I can come back tonight.” She slid the door open. “Love you, call me.” She slid the door closed as she waved.

I jumped up, not giving the aspirin time to kick in. Racing to my room, I retrieved my laptop and typed in my password. The red light that constantly flashed from my room was not a vibrator but the agency. The agency was in a panic since I hadn’t been answering. I’m required to check in daily, and I would have checked in by now. But calling them was third on my list.

The first thing was searching Kyle’s call history for Janet’s number. I remember her mentioning something last night in relation to him. Lewin had to be Kyle. If he and I shared a friend, I was going to have to break up with Janet. Depending on how long they had been friends, no way she wouldn’t be hurt by his death.

On my iPad, I searched for Hayden Reynolds. I needed a face, family history, location, and contact information.

Finding him was quicker than finding Janet’s number in Kyle’s contact history. His call log was clean of any number that I had for Janet.

“I know he doesn’t have a second phone,” I mumbled to myself. “I should have it if he does. Janet definitely only has one phone that I know about. I know he’s Lewin. . .”

Every phone I had was ringing.

“Shut up, people! Stop calling me. I’m trying to do something!”

On the brighter side, Hayden lived here in Austin with his high-profile mother and father. Dad was a big shot in the corporate world and in the not-so-corporate world. Supposedly, he was a gangster, heavily into drugs, women, and cars. Meaning that if one of their family members showed up dead, they could easily find out who did it and that person would be next.

Taking that into consideration, I thought about my next move, whether avenging my parents was worth putting my own name on a hit list—if I was found out. I was a perfectionist. I made sure I always crossed my Ts and dotted my Is. I was confident that I could take out Hayden and get away with it. For my parents who loved me, who would go to the ends of the earth for me, and who had always been there for me? I was going to be there for them.

Yes. It was worth it. . .

Chapter Four

Kyle

“Mom! It’s me.” I shouted, checking the alarm system on my way through the back door. “Mom,” I called again, closing it behind me.

“I’m in the kitchen!” she shouted sharply.

I shook my head as I walked past her sitting room. She was already yelling and she hadn’t even seen me yet.

“What’s up, Mom?” I sat at the kitchen table.

“How dare you, Kyle!” She threw her dish sponge at me, causing spatters of soap and water to dampen my shirt. This was followed by a plate, which I dodged, and another that shattered against the wall behind me.

“Mom, what the hell did I do?!” I yelled, running from the kitchen and everything else she was throwing at me. “And stop breaking the damn dishes.”

“You’re taking names, aren’t you?” she accused.

“No, I am not!” I yelled from the living room.

“Then what was so important you couldn’t come right over here?”

“I was on a date,” I lied, peeking around the wall I hid behind.

She threw a plate and it broke against the wall. “You were not!”

“Mom, I swear if you throw anything else at me, I am going to pin your butt to the fridge.”

“Don’t you threaten me! You know that’s how your father died. You know what happened to me and now you want to get involved in the same damn thing, Kyle. It’s not safe. And if you―”

“And if I don’t go out and make us some money, to pay for you, to pay for Anna and me, and every damn body else, we will all be fucked!”

“Watch your mouth, boy.” She pointed at me with a knife I assumed was going to get thrown at me next.

“I’m gone, Mom.”

Something large and heavy smashed into my back as soon as I turned around. That shit hurt. “What was that?” I twisted around, looking at the floor. Milk was leaking from a cracked plastic carton. “You hit me with milk?! What is your problem? It’s not like I’m dead or could get caught. You and I both know I’m good at what I do.”

“No, Kyle. It doesn’t matter how good you are. You will stop this. You are not a hit man. Hitmen get hit. It doesn’t take long. The pay is good, but the consequences are bad.” She raised her shirt, revealing the six jagged scars covering most of her stomach. She used them as torture for me. The ‘repercussion scars,’ I called them. She got them when they almost killed her. She wouldn’t tell me who.

“Kyle, when your father died, that was enough. He was good at―”

“He wasn’t good enough. My father was an idiot. He made the wrong decision and got himself killed. I’d never make the same mistakes he did.”

“How do you know? You could get in a situation just like ours and a woman dedicated to her job will take you out just like I was required to do.” She roughly threw the knife in the sink. After it was out of her hand, I walked back to the kitchen. “Kyle, I don’t need you to take care of me.

“Mom, you do. How else would all this stuff get paid for? How else will Anna stay taken care of when she does come around? Where else am I going to get the money to pay off your debts and my own? I’m keeping us safe―”

“Kyle, I’m the mother. You don’t need to do my job! I keep you safe. I protect you. That’s what the mother is supposed to do. Not bury her son!”

“Shit, Mom.” I roughly leaned against the wall, feeling the stress in her statement. I hated seeing her stressed, it wasn’t good for her cancer. I was trying to make things easier—the last thing I wanted to do was make life any harder for her. I pushed my hand through my hair, looking at her.

She looked away from me.

I ran my hand down my face as an overwhelming sense of remorse overtook me. I was disappointing her, I knew. But what other choice did I have than to do this job. There was nothing else. For the past seven years this was all I knew—killing; it was in my blood. Both my mother and my father had been professional assassins. Even if it was by accident, they introduced it to me, encouraged it even. I was locked into this life. Nothing else, like a nine to five, would have worked out for me. Shit, college was still taking me some getting used to.

“Hello!” someone called.

Mom ran from the kitchen to the front door.

Anna sure knows when to pop up.

“Oh, my baby’s home!” Mom cried out. I pictured Mom hugging her and Anna barely hugging her back. My sister and my mom didn’t get along.

“Where’s Kyle? I know I heard you two yelling before I opened the door.”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called, waiting for her to flash around the corner and bum rush me with her “big brother hug.”

She ran in and rammed into me, wrapping her skinny arms around my neck as she rose on her tiptoes. “Hi, Nips! I’ve missed you.”

I lifted her a little, hugging her tightly. “Where you been, Juniper?”

“Don’t worry about me or it.” She wiggled out of my arms. “Why are you and Mom in here fighting? What is she complaining about now?”

“She’s got enough going on. Don’t come back starting bullshit with her.”

She shoved me away from her. “You’re the one always shouting at her. You don’t stay here keeping up bullshit with her. At least I have enough common sense to walk away and leave here.”

I thumped her in the head. “You make it worse, being gone and no one being able to contact you. We don’t know what’s going on with you, where you are, if you’re okay. We just hope you’re good until you decide to come back around.”

“Kyle, I didn’t come back to hear you preach. If you’re gonna rag on me, point out your own problems.” She thumped me in my throat.

I hated that. Being thumped in the Adam’s apple is the most annoying feeling on earth and I wanted to slap her across her face. But she was my sister and looked like she had already taken a hit with that purple bruise hiding behind her sunglasses.

I relaxed, leaning back against the wall, pretending like I didn’t see it. “Why are you back?” I asked casually.

“I need some money.” She’s so damn predictable. When doesn’t she need money and what the hell does she do with all the money I give her?

Mom walked back into the kitchen, eyes red and full of tears.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” I told her. I felt guilty for fighting with her. She didn’t deserve it. “But you don’t work. You can’t work because of your health. I still owe Purcell, we still owe on your doctor bills, Anna clearly needs her hair done and some new clothes, and bills still have to get paid.”

Anna tapped my shoulder. “Don’t forget about Nixon.”

I threw my head back. “Agh, and not to mention Nixon.” I’m glad she mentioned him. I needed to arrange to visit him. “I have to put money on his books. And maybe he can get out soon.”

Anna wrapped her arm around my waist. “He’s been in there too long.”

We went silent for a while.

“I’ll take out a mortgage on the house. I don’t want you mixed in that,” Mom said, wiping down the clean counter.

“What are you mixed in?” Anna asked.

“Nothing. Just making us some money.” From its resting place on the floor, I grabbed the bag I’d brought in with the money I’d picked up for Mom. “Here’s extra cash, Mom. You may be the mother. But mothers raise their children to take care of them when they can no longer take care of themselves. Let me take care of us, Mom. I’m safe, promise. All three of us—four when we get Nixon back.” I threw the bag on the table. “That’s five-hundred K. I’ve already paid off the rest of the doctor bills, paid up the bills for the rest of the year and dropped some money in your account, Juniper.” I kissed the top of her head, immediately regretted it, feeling something crusty push against my lips and the smell of who knows what causing her hair to stink.

Mom looked me over as she walked to the table. “Clean up that milk and let me make you something to eat.”

Anna followed my gaze down. “She hit you with a carton of milk?”

“Yes, Juniper. Believe it or not, before you came in I was dodging dishes and food.”

“Your mom is crazy.”

“Stop it,” I told her. “Help me clean up this milk.”

 Val

“Late start?” Peanut said, answering the phone.

I looked at the phone, making sure I was calling the agency and not her cell. “What happened to ‘Valentine Services, Patricia speaking’?” I mocked professionally. She was supposed to answer with our cover name.

“The instant you called, your face finally left my third screen. I’ve unfortunately had to look at it since I came in this morning. Though I think you’re pretty, I do not want to stare at you all day.”

She went on for another two minutes about how she has been forced to look at my undesirable mugshot all morning and afternoon.

“Peanut, I’m sorry you had to suffer through that. But can you please spare me your inconvenience and check me in for the day.”

“Nope, I have to get you over to Claudia and Samson.”

“Why?” I whined. I had to be in deep if I was required to talk to both Claudia and Samson. “Just transfer me.”

“You’re not in trouble. Unfortunately, in our line of work, news travels fast. Let one thing in your life change, and everyone will know about it. I’m sorry ab―”

“Don’t, Peanut. Thank you, but I don’t want to be that person today. Please transfer me.”

“Okay Valerie, please hold.”

As I listened to the hold music—a slow melodic play of a piano—I slipped into my sadness. Oh, great. It didn’t take much and I was crying, full-blown tears falling onto my keyboard. The phone was clutched so tightly in my hand it hurt my palm. I couldn’t shake the dread of my parents here yesterday, gone today. It’d crossed my mind, their one day dying, but it was something I had always pushed away. The child in me believed they’d be around forever.

“Valerie,” Claudia soothed through the phone. “Valerie. It’s going to be okay,” she said, like she knew my pain. Like she had been in that position, where she’d once had parents and then didn’t.

I doubt she knew exactly what I was feeling and could honestly say it’s going to be okay. I guess it’s going to be okay and I’m so sorry were words I was going to have to get used to hearing. When she repeated it, I made up my mind I wasn’t going to tell anyone. That was my way to avoid those words. If people didn’t know, there was nothing to be sorry for and they’d assume everything was already okay.

“Claudia,” I cut her off from her sympathy spill. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry. I wanted to call and check in. I’m sorry about this morning, I had a late start.”

She sighed. “Okay, Valerie.” She cleared her throat and started in a strong tone, “You do not have clearance to go after Hayden Reynolds. You also do not have the time.”

“Excuse me?” I asked as respectfully as I could. “Clearance?”

“Do not go after Hayden Reynolds. You have one day to terminate Arleen Shultz. You do not have time to go after Reynolds. After you take out Arleen, you then must confront Shultz and find out where Cunningham is. Valerie, I am sorry to bombard you with this at this bad time in your life. But these things, unfortunately, have a time span. And your time to terminate all your targets is running short.”

I would have liked to tell my boss to go and fuck herself. And on a day like today, I probably could’ve gotten away with it. However, I was more respectful than that. “Claudia, I hear you loud and clear.”

“You are checked in. Goodbye.”

“I thought I needed to speak with Samson.”

“He just walked into a meeting. You’re clear.” She ended the call.

I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. My mom and dad were on my screen saver. “I love you guys.” I kissed my phone and lay back in my bed. The laptop toppled onto the floor and I could’ve cared less about picking it up. I was sure it wasn’t broken.

***

I woke up feeling better. I could have moped around but I had a plan I needed to figure out. I did have a job to do and it was clear my employer didn’t care about my mourning the passing of my parents.

I went straight for my computer and tried to get a location on Hayden. He was here in town and I had to do something. On my laptop, I looked up Kyle’s location. He was still a key factor in my life.

For some reason every Kyle search came up undetectable. Like for his phone records, I knew for sure Janet called him. But his phone records had given me the same six numbers back-to-back since five p.m. yesterday. I searched his location and it came up that he was in Arizona, when I knew for sure he was here.

“What the hell happened?” I mumbled aloud.

Figuring it was something wrong with my laptop, I took to my computer. I quickly typed in my passcodes and searched all my tracks and locations for him. Nothing came up correct. . .

“Where are you, Kyle?”

This time it told me he was in California. Either the Internet had gone haywire or someone was on to me and scrambled his networks and database. I wanted to slam my fist into the computer screen.

“Just great!” I got this close. This close! One day before I needed to take out mommy dearest and they shut me down. “Fine! If that’s how you feel, I’ll track him on foot.”

Because of this, I had to put off searching for Hayden. “Damn you, life. Just damn you.”

It was nine years ago I’d started training to be an assassin. At age thirteen, I’d held my first gun, courtesy of my aunt Frances. Her partner, who was a double agent, murdered her five years ago while they were on an assignment. Asshole, I loved my aunt like a mother.

At age fifteen, she taught me how not to feel. I’d come to her one day, crying about being teased by some valley girl idiots who thought they were better than everyone else. That day, my aunt started teaching me how to overcome things like physical, mental, and emotional pain. It’d been years since I cried or felt sorrow.

A year later, I’d taken my first life. Throughout my life, I’d often think back on those days, the things I’d learn and the way I’d felt about them, remembering my aunt saying to me, revert that thought, revert that feeling into pride, into overcoming your obstacle. If you’re going to feel anything, Valerie, feel strong, feel powerful, feel virtuous.

Feeling virtuous, for me, at this moment in my life, was like trying not to feel, not to feel hurt, not to feel stuck in neutral, not to feel this pain that was so deep within me it was unreachable, as if a glimpse of peace was unobtainable. I was feeling everything. Love, specifically, was a feeling she’d failed to teach me to ignore. She’d loved me, so there was no way it didn’t exist for her. But with loving and losing, it—all of what I thought didn’t exist within me—was brought back to life. Every emotion I’d thought I’d diminished.

I dressed unlike the Val the university was used to seeing and headed out. I didn’t know where I was headed, but I didn’t feel like looking like the girl who didn’t care about her appearance, like I’d let on. I, at least, wanted to feel good on the outside, since I felt like shit on the inside.

I left intending to look for Kyle, but as I dressed, my momentum had fallen and I no longer felt up to being ‘Stalker Val.’ I guess I just felt like walking. There were a number of things I could do on a Wednesday night. A lounge sounded pretty good, but being drunk two nights in a row would be immoral. A girl’s night was a second option, but I felt like being alone.

“Hey.” I looked over my shoulder at the stranger staring me down. “You live around here?” he asked.

Well obviously, you just saw me walk out of my apartment door. “No,” I replied.

“I’ve never seen you around. Are you headed somewhere? Can I go with you?”

The voice sounded a little familiar after his second sentence, but I couldn’t recall it. “No, I’m okay. I’m not interested in company. Sorry, I’d prefer to walk alone.”

His heavy footsteps slapped the sidewalk as he came near me. “No one should have to be alone. Especially when they have as sad a face as yours.”

I looked to my left at the stranger who refused to take no for an answer. He was extremely tall with dark hair, a nose piercing, and I’m pretty sure when he licked his lips I saw a tongue ring. I smiled sweetly. “I’m headed to a friend’s house.” I was hoping that mentioning I was visiting a friend would make him leave me the hell alone.

“Me too. I could walk you there. It’s a little late.”

I took a quick glance at my watch. Eight seventeen. I looked up at him.

He smiled a smiley smile, eyes and chin grinning with his mouth. He looked like a really nice guy and those are the ones you have to be worried about.

I walked another block and he stayed by me the entire way, walking in a dreadful silence.

“Um, I’m sorry but this is very uncomfortable and awkward. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you did not walk with me.” I’d debated saying it for the last three buildings. I just needed to come out and be completely honest with this weirdo.

“Oh, well, I just thought we cou―”

“No.” I stopped walking and so did he. “We won’t be doing anything. I don’t know you and there is no way I’d ev―” A fist came flying at my face, cutting into my words.

I blocked it. But in blocking it I missed his hand wrapping around my neck.

“Stop! Get away fr―”

“Shut up, bitch!” His fist said, slamming into my head.

Chapter Five

 Kyle

“Juniper.” I pulled Anna from the kitchen after we ate dinner. The sun had been down for two hours and she still had on sunglasses. “I don’t want to know any grave detail because it won’t do anything but piss me off.” I pulled her into my old room. It was soundproof. I knew Anna wouldn’t tell me anything if she thought Mom could hear. “Tell me who did it.”

She looked behind her at the mirror on the back of the door. “Damn, I thought I was hiding it.”

I sighed, throwing my head back. “What the fuck are you into?”

“Nothing. Wrong place, wrong guy. I’m out now. See? I’m home. I just need some cash and I’m out of your hair. No pressure.”

“It is pressure, on all of us. What happened? Was the guy whooping your ass? What do you mean out now?” I had a million questions I knew she wasn’t going to answer. Anna was too damn independent. At least when it suited her. She wouldn’t tell me anything. Not even if I beat it out of her. “Whatever, Anna. At least tell me who did it?”

“No. When is the last time you saw Nixon? I miss him and I’m ready for him to come home.”

“I saw him a couple weeks ago. If I could get him out today, would you stay home?”

She studied me. She pursed her lips and pulled off her shades.

I rolled my eyes, looking away from her. Her right eye looked like she had taken a hit from a boxer and was knocked out cold. Her skin was so light, the bruise looked worse than it would have if she weren’t so damn pale. “God, Juniper. What the fuck happened to your face?” I reached for her eye and she smacked my hand away.

She ignored my question, saying, “If you could get Nixon out, I still wouldn’t stay. I can’t be here with her and you, and always remembering what she did.”

“That wasn’t her fault and you should not blame her for that.” I cut her off. She always wanted to try and blame Mom for killing our father when that shit wasn’t her fault.

“You’re so stupid, Kyle. How can you not think that was her fault? She put the goddamn gun to his head and pulled the goddamn trigger, then made Nixon take the goddamn blame for it.”

Annoyed, I threw my head back, rubbing my neck. “Shut up, Anna. You don’t know what happened.”

She shoved me. “Don’t tell me to shut up. I was there, Nip. I saw it. You weren’t there,” she stated angrily. I avoided these talks because she always got worked up. She was a daddy’s girl; she loved Dad so much. Hell, I did too, but I understood the circumstances Mom was under.

“Juniper, she didn’t have a choice. In the life they played in . . . she had no choices. Because of the dumb decisions Dad chose to make, his name came up. It was either she took out him or her agency took out all of us. She had to do it.” Mom was pissed about me taking names because she used to do it. It was her profession with the CIA. Dad was into some things she didn’t know about—the kingpin, gangster, black market business. His name came up because he was too successful. Mom got the call.

Before the hit, she got jumped; they wanted to make sure she was going to be able to do her job because they knew my dad was her husband. It was how she got those scars she punished me with. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why she did it in front of Anna, but she did. Everything was fucked up. Neighbors heard the shot and Anna’s scream. The police showed up. The Feds wouldn’t take the case off Mom and ended up pinning it on Nixon, saying he killed our father. The only people that could testify were Mom and Anna, and of course him. Nixon and Mom went with it while Anna denied the story. I wasn’t at home; I was off in the army, working and training. Imagine how shocked I was when I heard my adopted brother got locked up for killing my dad.

“Shut up, Nip. You’ll always take up for her.”

I looked Anna over, starting at her ragged flip-flops, old shorts, and wretched tank top. Her hair was matted, her lips were pale and crusty, and her eyes were red and glossy. “God, Anna. You stink. And your hair reeks too.” I wrinkled my nose, not bothering to hide my disgust. “I can’t believe I am related to a bum. A straight up, out of the gutter, live on the streets, bum. What happens to all the money I give you?”

“Duh.” She pushed her sunglasses back on her eyes. “I spend it.”

“On what?” I asked, bemused.

“Coke, hotel rooms, alcohol, helping friends. You know, the regular stuff people blow thousands of dollars on.”

I wanted to haul off and slap her. Just come at her with an open palm right across her left cheek. But. . . I rubbed my hands together, took the deepest breath I could to help calm me down, and I let it go. I didn’t want to run her off. If she was back, I wanted to do whatever I could to keep her here. So, I smiled and stepped to her for another hug. “I’m glad to see you, Juniper. I missed you. You wanna come to my house or are you sleeping over here?”

“I’m not staying, I just came back to get some money and I’m out.”

“So, you wanna come to my house or are you staying over here?” I repeated, because leaving wasn’t an option I was giving her.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and threw her hips to the right, putting all her weight on that foot. “I’ll go with you,” she muttered.

“Good. Let’s kiss and hug our mother goodbye so I can get out of here before she finds something else to yell about.”

“Kyle!” Mom shouted.

I shook my head. “Looks like she’s already found something.” I opened the door to my room. “Yes, Mom.”

“Come in here and get this phone, it’s moving all around the table. And Janet just walked through the door.”

“Yay!” Anna exclaimed, shoving me from the door so she could get out of the room.

When I made it to the kitchen, Janet and Anna were still hugging.

“Aw! I’m so happy to see you! You look horrible but it’s so good to see you,” Janet told Anna.

“Mom, we’re getting ready to get out of here. I’ll come check on you later.” I bent down to kiss her cheek. “Call me if you need me.”

“But Kyle, I just got here,” Janet informed me. She must’ve thought I didn’t hear Mom tell me she just walked through the door.

I ignored her. Her day and a half was not up yet.

“Kyle, remember what I said.”

“I got you, Mom. Come on, Juniper, let’s go.”

Janet walked over to me as I was leaning in the doorway of the kitchen. When she got directly in front of me, her back arched inward and her small chest pushed out slightly. “What, Arch?” I enunciated, so she could pay attention to her posture.

She immediately straightened. “Stop calling me that.”

I used to call her Norks, but she didn’t like that either. “If I may say so, Arch sounds a lot better than Norks. At least I’ve drawn my attention away from your, uh. . .” I reached up to pinch her boob and she smacked my hand away. I laughed. “. . . Other features. Go with Arch, it fits you.”

“He makes up a nickname for everyone,” Mom said, walking out of the kitchen. “Janet, are you staying the night over here?”

“Yes,” I answered for her.

“What?” she whispered. “No, I am not.”

“Oh, so you’re going to blow my mom off two nights in a row? Wait. Why am I even talking to you?” I thrust my hand toward her face, turning my head away from her.

She smacked my hand away. “You’re such a girl, Kyle. I told you my friend needed me. She’s having a really tough time.” She pulled out her phone. “Look, here she is texting me right now.” Her face flashed three different expressions as she read that text. “Oh, my God!” She was shocked. “She said she’s hurt.” She was sad. “Some asshole tried to rape her outside!” And she was pissed. “Come on, in case he’s still around.”

She pulled me and my arm with her out the door. “Arch, I’m sure she has enough sense to run away and not stay around the guy who tried to hurt her. She has to be safe if she’s texting you to tell you about it.” I dragged behind her.

Anna got in the backseat of Janet’s car and Janet peeled out of Mom’s neighborhood.

“Kyle, you act like it’s an issue you helping someone.”

“I love helping people, Juniper. It’s never an issue. But this friend Arch is claiming she has can’t be her friend. They don’t even know each other. I say that because no girl would befriend Janet.”

Janet’s open palm smacked me in my face.

I laughed. She hit like a girl. I went to speak but choked on my laughter.

Anna joined me. But Janet was fuming.

“Okay, okay, Arch. Take me to your friend. I’ll help kick the guy’s ass who tried to rape her.”

“Thank you,” she said, slamming her hand against the steering wheel.

I reached over and grabbed her thigh. Her face was still twisted up in anger. So I just had to make her feel better. “Then after, if you want. . .” My hand crept up her thigh and it started shaking under my touch. “I’ll drag you to my spot. And get you―”

She sighed, “Oh, Kyle, pl―”

I slapped my hand down on her thigh.

“Ah!” she screamed.

“You do not beg for dick,” I told her, earning another smack to my face, and they kept flying at me. She even pulled over and started punching. “Arch! Stop it! Sorry! I wasn’t serious.” I blocked what I could of her attacks.

“You asshole!” she hollered, punching my shoulder. She finally stopped and started driving again.

“God, Arch!” I straightened in the seat. “Save it for the guy who just assaulted your friend.”

“You are such an asshole, Kyle!”

Anna was in the backseat dying from laughing so hard. I wished she would stop. All that shaking and open-mouthed laughing had the car stinking.

***

Janet pulled up in front of an apartment building I wasn’t familiar with. We got out and headed in. This friend stayed on the third floor.

“Right here. Don’t scare her off. After I make sure she is okay and she can describe the guy to you, go kick his ass.”

“Got it, sir.” I saluted Janet as she slid open the metal door.

“Val—it’s me and I brought some friends so we can get the guy who did this to you. Are you dressed?”

“Ugh! Janet, why did you bring people?” a woman whined. “As if this day couldn’t get any worse.” A leggy, jet-black haired, slightly curvy, soft hazel-eyed woman walked down the hall in our direction. Her eyes met mine and she yelled, “Aw, shit! Scratch that. What I thought was this day getting worse just got worser.”

Worser?

She looked very familiar. But the girl I thought she looked like didn’t dress like this. Aside from her hair being a tangled mess, and a rip in this dress that was amazing on her, she was a . . . jaw dropper.

“Val, don’t be mad. We’re just here to help,” Janet told her.

“Val?” I questioned and the girl’s eyes shot back to me. That name was too familiar. I studied her longer. She crossed her arms and huffed in annoyance. “I got it! Valerie Harper,” I said with a point. “You look nice, Miss Harper.” She looked damned good, totally different from the baggy clothes wearing girl from my chemistry class.

“I bet you’re going to work up a good nickname for her,” Anna said.

“Hush,” I threw at her. “I’m actually not interested in naming this one.” I’d tried to be a gentleman to her and she was a bitch. She blew me off like I was the last person on Earth she wanted to be bothered with. “I just knew I recognized her.”

“Naming this one?” she questioned offensively. She charged down the hallway, coming at me with her anger in her pointed finger. “Today is not the day to get on my bad list—” she stopped herself. I stared down at her, then at her finger pressed firmly against my chest, then back to her angry eyes, all while waiting on her to finish her tirade.

“Sorry you’re having a bad day,” I said wholesomely. “I just came by so you can describe to me the guy who assaulted you, so I can go kick his ass. I didn’t walk through your door to mess up your already fucked-up day any further. Excuse me, once again, for giving a fuck.” I brushed her finger from my chest.

“How do you know her?” Janet asked.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from Val, turning my attention to Janet. “You remember that girl I was telling you about who had a stuck-up attitude when I returned her book to her? The one I saw at the market?” I pointed at Val. “Spirit, here, is her.”

“See!” Anna exclaimed. “He did it. He named you! I like it, Kyle. ‘Cause she’s all hot and feisty right?” She high-fived me. “Good pick.”

“Thanks, sis. I got that one quick.”

“No!” Spirit yelled, charging back down the hall. “I don’t need his help. I can handle it myself. Thanks anyway, Janet.”

This woman and her stubbornness irritated the hell out of me. And her legs irritated me more so because I couldn’t stop looking at them. They looked amazing in that pink dress. I bit down on my lip, staring at them, imagining running my hand over one as it brushed by my neck or rested on my shoulder. She looked hot. The anger in her eyes and pinched lips as she furiously glowered at me was even hotter. And when she stomped off, her ass had a slight bounce that was fucking riveting. I wanted to grab it, maybe sink my teeth into it, and hear her croon and moan for me to stop though she wouldn’t mean it.

Janet chased after Spirit.

I breathed, brushing my hand over my head, calming myself down. Looking away, I calculated the square root of 676 to ease the bulge smashed against my zipper. With Anna coming home, there was no way I could get Winter over to settle it. “Arch, we’re just going to walk home. Catch you later,” I called, but she didn’t respond. “Come on, let me get you home so I can introduce you to a shower. And some different clothes. Tomorrow I’ll take you shopping,” I told Anna, sliding the loft’s door closed.

“Is the walk going to be long?” She scratched her arms. “And. . . I . . . um, am going to need a phone, right now.”

“Why?”

“I need to make a call,” she said as we walked back down the stairs.

“To who?”

“Who the hell do you think, Kyle?” she hissed angrily.

I looked away, unable to take the sight of her. My sister was a crackhead. A flashback of Nixon’s mom and dad sparked my need to do something to help her. I knew nothing about getting someone clean, but I wasn’t going to let my sister live like this. I refused to let my sister be an addict.

 Val

“Oh my God, Janet!” I shouted. “Why would you bring him here?”

“Val, I’m sorry. I thought we could use his help. Had I known that you two were sworn enemies and you barely know each other, I wouldn’t have.”

Eyeing Janet, I thought back on how I wasn’t supposed to know she was friends with Kyle and her previously referring to him as Lewin. I couldn’t understand why she would lie and not want me to know they were friends. Why was it such a big secret, and why was I left out of it if she and Kyle were just friends?

Thinking about Kyle led me to think about his reaction when he saw me “out of character,” and I instantly blocked it out. Then I realized Kyle was in my house and praise sweet baby Jesus, it was clean. Had it not been for Janet, it wouldn’t have been and realizing that diminished all the anger I had against her.

I hugged her. “Thank you so much for cleaning my loft this morning. If it wasn’t for you he probably would have thought I was a total slob.”

She hugged me. “Honey, you are a total slob, but now he probably thinks you’re a clean bitch.”

“Who is he to you?” I played stupid.

“Um,” she fumbled over her words for a moment. “I’ve known him for a while,” she said, pushing me away and quickly changing the subject. “You want to change? Maybe we can go out or something. I don’t want you to be by yourself. I can’t believe this stuff just happened to you. You’re having such a shitty day. No, two days! God, Val! I am so sorry. And I just made it worse.” She pulled me to my room and left me standing by the door as she rifled through my closet. “Besides the rip, that dress is amazing. And your legs are amazing and your boobs look great.” She looked at me from over her shoulder. “I wish I had boobs like that.” She dropped her eyes toward her own pair of breasts, turned her back to me, and mumbled, “These could never look like those.”

Janet pulled a black lace dress from my closet and looked it over. It wasn’t see-through, thanks to the silky dress that was sewn in under the lace. I stared at it and her as they came over to me.

“What?” she questioned, analyzing my look of misperception.

“Why are you pulling out dresses? I can’t kick ass in that.”

She shook her head. “When we leave here I bet that guy—whoever he was—that assaulted you will be lying on the ground outside. Though you were a total bitch to my friend, he wouldn’t leave that guy untouched. And knowing these campus creepers, he would probably still be lurking around here either waiting on you or someone else who looked as good as you do in that dress.” She quickly looked at me and shook her head. “Why do you dress like that”—she pointed to the clothes she had folded this morning, still sitting on my bed—“if you have legs and a body like that?” She threw her pointed finger in my direction. Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t even want to know. Anyway, that guy will be taken care of by the time we leave. My friend’s an asshole to me but a really nice guy to everyone else. So even though you blew him off three times, he’ll still look out for you.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

She shrugged and handed me the dress. “Now change. We can at least go out so we can help you feel better.”

“No alcohol. That vodka that boned me last night still hasn’t stopped cuddling.” I rubbed my head, feeling the late effects of the hangover.

She nodded and headed out of my room.

I really didn’t want to sit in the house. That was the reason for going out in the first place. I’d thought a simple stroll down my street would be fine, but of course not, here comes some jerk destined to make a mark in my life. Fucking asshole!

I’d kicked him in the balls, given him a quick punch in the face and ran back home. The terrible part about all this was that the asshole knew where I lived. And who knew how long he’d been watching this building. Three other girls lived here. I wondered if they’d ever experienced anything like what I had.

Kyle. . . He had to totally think I was a ranting bitch. I felt so bad that I’d lost it. But then again, I couldn’t help but feel completely betrayed. He insisted on breaking this code we had. Granted, he knew nothing about it, but still. . . He needed to stay the hell away from me. A conversation would only make my job harder. It was hard enough doing this. Killing somebody was never that easy. I couldn’t imagine having the responsibility to kill someone I actually felt something for. And there I was, on a mission to kill my perfect guy; a guy who I was heavily feeling something for.

I tossed my ripped dress in the trash, showered, and did my best to hide my bruises with make-up. They weren’t bad and I was able to pull it off with curling my hair and letting my layered bangs fall around my face. I still felt like crap on the inside and now I felt even shittier than I did before I went outside, for a number of different reasons.

“Okay, Janet. I’m ready,” I said dully, looking at her in one of my dresses with my heels on and her hair looking way better than mine. I wasn’t jealous. She just looked really nice and better than me in my own clothes.

“Great! I have no idea where we’re going yet, but at least we look good wherever it will be.”

We left and headed downstairs. We opened the door and there was the six-foot-one jerk slumped in the doorway, knocked out with black eyes and a bloody mouth. On his forehead in marker was written: Here’s to you, VAL. . . You owe me, Janet!

“What did I tell you?” Janet said as we stepped over the guy’s body. “He would be a nicer guy had it not been for a few instances that happened in his life, but. . .” she trailed off.

I chose not to comment. I didn’t want to think any more or any better about Kyle than I already did.

I got in the passenger seat of Janet’s car. She drove us to some club I preferred to not go to because I was probably going to be around more grabby jerks like the one I just left.

“Two shots for you, no more. I’ll do more and you can drive us back. I’ll sleep at your house. Deal?” Janet yelled in my ear over the music as we walked through the club.

I nodded and headed over to the bar. Taking a seat, I came to the conclusion it was going to be a long night.

Chapter Six

 Kyle

“What am I supposed to wear, Nips?” Anna called from the spare room I designated as hers.I had two bedrooms. My other bedroom was my computer room and I put a daybed in there if I happened to have a guest.

“I’ll get you some of my sweatpants and a tee shirt.”

“How in the hell am I supposed to fit in your pants?”

She was really skinny. Standing five-foot-six, she looked under one twenty. Anna should’ve had a medium figure, built more like Mom with hips. But she was a stick and it looked bad on her. “Well, I’ll give you some shorts with a drawstring and a large shirt. Did you put your clothes in the wash like I told you? So you can have underwear.” I was playing this extremely cool. But I was really happy my sister was here and she was staying with me. I worried about her so much and having her under the same roof as me and knowing she was safe was a relief.

“I did. Can you transfer them into the dryer? I’ll grab something from your drawer to throw on in the meantime.”

Someone knocked on my door. It was Rick. I knew it had to be him. He was not going to let me live my life without him.

I dried my hands and headed for the door.

“Hey!” he said as I pulled it open.

“Wassup?” He stepped forward and I held my hand out to keep him from coming in.

“Can I come in?” he asked, motioning past the door.

I shook my head. “My sister’s here. I don’t want anyone to be around her right now.”

“What? Is she a hottie?”

“Never mention hottie in a conversation about my sister ever again in your life.”

He laughed. I was serious, but I laughed with him because somehow he drew out the happy part of me. He was growing on me.

“You were supposed to come by. I was dropping off Ron and came up to check on you ’cause you never showed up.”

“Why are you standing in the door? You don’t have company,” Anna stated, coming around me.

“Anna?” Rick questioned.

His mentioning her name made me want to punch him. The way he said it was shocked and surprised, like he could’ve been familiar with her or maybe looking for her. I calmed down looking at Anna. She didn’t look scared or regretful, but shocked too.

I waited, knowing Rick was going to come out with it soon.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. “You don’t look okay.” He looked at me. “She’s your sister? Small world. Roger—this small-time seller—he used to hang out around here. But doesn’t any longer. I was a few hours away from here. Your sister was at this little party.” His brows knit in confusion as he looked between us. “It was a bad spot. No place for her. She got into it with him and he’s about your size. He was whooping her ass bad. I helped her and after, because she looked hungry and in need of some serious help, Barb and I took her to grab a bite to eat and put her up in a hotel room for the night.”

Damn. . .

I didn’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. I wanted to hug him. I wouldn’t, but I wanted to. He was a good guy. Did all that for a girl he didn’t know. Barb, whoever she was, probably needed some convincing, but he still helped my baby sister.

Before I let him in, I looked at Anna to confirm his story.

With her downcast glance, she mumbled, “Yeah, that’s what happened. But please don’t ask me about anything before or after that moment.”

I sealed the explosion of questions gurgling in my throat. I wanted to ask so badly, but I was scared I’d run her off. Instead, I hugged her, kissed her clean head, and said, “Okay.” Then I opened the door wider for Rick to step in.

“Thanks for what you did for her,” I told him.

He smacked my arm with the back of his hand. “Don’t worry about it.” He walked past me, headed to my living room.

I hate it when people made me like them. Now I was definitely going to have to start referring to him as a friend.

I grabbed two beers and a bottled water from the fridge and headed to the living room with Rick and Anna. We sat around until my phone rang.

“Up, here he goes. Busy man, on the run again,” Rick said when I stood.

“I’m not going anywhere. I prefer to not talk to people on the phone when I’m in front of others,” I said, sliding the bar to answer the call.

It was Grimmer.

“What you got for me, bro?”

“I couldn’t find out who was on to you. But like I cut off everyone else, I cut them off too. Looks like before yesterday they were listening in on your calls, tracking your locations. On your tail heavily. I took care of it. Scrambled your networks. They can’t get anything anymore. You’re clear.”

“Thanks. You get the money?”

“Yes, and the bonus. Thanks, I needed it.”

My other line beeped. “Reagan’s on the other line. Call me if you need something.”

“Bye.”

I answered the other line, “What, Tulip?”

“I thought you were going to give me six-fifty.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hell, no. Stop being so damn greedy. You don’t need six damn fifty. Take what I gave you.”

“No, I’m at your door. I want the rest of my money.”

A knock sounded from the door, echoing in the phone. This is some bullshit! “What the fuck, Reagan,” I cussed, leaving my room. “What the hell are you doing here?” I hung up when I got to the door. She was knocking again as I opened it. “You’re no―”

She silenced me, opening her trench coat and revealing the nothing that rested on her body beneath it.

“Not going to stand out in your cold hallway.” She tried to finish my sentence.

I took my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down on it. I looked over her head, doing a math equation to calm myself down. Most guys couldn’t deny a girl that looked as good as Reagan. Especially with her tight, curvaceous body, exposing it like this, offering herself to me. But no matter how good she looked—and she looked throw her against the nearest wall and fuck her brains out good—I hated her. And I wasn’t going to fuck her and then cuddle up with her tonight so she could leave me in the morning and be with the next guy tomorrow.

“I’ve got company. Get out of here,” I said, trying to keep my eyes off her curves.

“I’ll go to your room.” She flipped her long curls, blinked her amber eyes, and straightened her smooth neck that I wanted to press my lips against.

I shook my head and pulled her coat closed. “Fuck, Reagan. Get the hell out of here,” I forced myself to say. I was battling, brain against balls.

She licked her lips that I knew tasted like a submissive poison. She softly knocked on my door. “Kyle,” she drawled. “Let me in,” she sang.

Rick came to my side and she tied her coat as she eyed him, impressed.

She is so fucking disrespectful! She’s checking him out in front of me!

He didn’t take a second look at her but turned to me, saying, “I can go if you want to have your spot.”

“Hi!” Reagan said. She outstretched her hand to him.

It was the third time today I wanted to punch a girl. “Tulip. Don’t get punished,” I warned, glaring at her through narrowed eyes.

She gasped softly, aroused. “Hmm.”

She’s doing it all on purpose, I tried to tell myself. She knew if she pressed the right “wrong” button, she was going to make it in here and I was going to give her the best damn sex she’d ever had. She’d be weak for me but it’d only last a couple days before she was out doing the same shit that got me to leave her in the first place.

She winked at me. “Ignore him,” she said to Rick. “I’m Reagan Skye.” She let the belt go to her coat.

“Un-hun,” Rick said, not sparing her an interest. “So stay or go?” he asked me.

Reagan smacked her lips and looked down the hall as her coat unraveled.

My arm shot out and I clutched her coat in my hand, keeping it closed. She squealed as I yanked her to me and whispered in her ear, “Make me kill you.” I pulled her in the house and closed the door. “Go. And close the door.” I pointed to my bedroom and she hurried down the hall, pink heels reflecting the ceiling light. “Stay,” I told Rick, walking back to the couch and sat next to Anna. She shook in her sleep, looking extremely uncomfortable. She needed a hit bad but I wouldn’t let her see my phone so she could call whoever it was to bring it to her. If she stayed, I was going to get her clean and keep her that way.

“You sure you don’t want me to go?” Rick asked, sitting back down on the couch. “I can give you and your lady some alone time.”

“She’s not my lady. And I don’t need any alone time with her.”

“Okay, well, knowing that.” He smiled. “You’re not going to get in a body looking like that?” he questioned, like my rejection of Reagan was out of the ordinary.

I shook my head, not moved, disgusted, or pissed about his admiring Reagan. “Nope. She’s my ex and the sexiest slut, gold digger, and back stabber you’d ever meet. If you have enough money available for her to steal, she’ll sleep with you.”

Rick shook his head. “Nah, you’re more of my type than she is.”

“‘Cause you like guys. I only let her in here because she wouldn’t leave and I wasn’t going to have her standing in that hallway naked. When she realizes I’m not coming in after her, she’ll grab a pair of my sweats and a shirt and leave.” I stood and stretched. “You want another beer? I’m going to get Juniper a blanket.”

“Don’t think of me as disrespectful. And yes, I would like another beer. But, your sister. . . She’s. . .” He paused and thought. I assumed he was thinking of a way to talk about Anna and not make it sound too bad.

To relieve the discomfort that began to creep over his face as he thought and came up with nothing, I said, “She ran away a long time ago. This is the first time I’ve seen her in over a year. And usually when I see her, she’s leaving the next second.” I walked to the hall closet. “I don’t know what’s happened different or why she hasn’t started pressuring me about letting her go, but I’m not going to bring it up.” I walked back to the living room and laid the blanket over her. “She looks horrible,” I said, running my hand over her dampened hair. “She’s never come back looking this bad.” I left her for the kitchen. I grabbed a beer for Rick and poured me a shot of something stronger. “You’ll tell me everything you know about what happened to her?” I asked, handing him the beer bottle.

“Thanks. She didn’t talk. She gave me a nod or a shake. She wouldn’t tell us anything.”

“Where’s your folks?” I sat next to him, letting Anna keep the couch. I’d carry her to the spare room after I kicked out Reagan.

“My mom is in San Diego. My dad died from cancer six years ago. That’s where I’m from, San Diego.”

“Why’d you move here?”

He shrugged. “Got a full ride. I’m a party-boy but I’m a genius and damn good at football.”

I laughed. “I don’t meet too many of you.”

“Yeah, not all geniuses look as good as me.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“I thought you didn’t have friends,” Rick said.

“Shit, I didn’t. ‘Til I added you.”

“Yes,” he said, balling his hand into a fist and pumping it. “I made the cut!” he cheered, throwing both fists in the air.

I laughed, heading to the door. “You are so weird, dude.”

I pulled the door open and quickly closed it back.

“Sorry, wrong door,” I said through the door.

Spirit knocked again and I could hear her loudly grump in frustration.

I opened the door. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

Seriously, she was knocking on my door and rolling her eyes at me. I did nothing, nothing to this woman and she acted like I murdered her cat.

She stared at me for a second and I took the same second to look her over. The moment my eyes hit her chest, I looked away. She had changed and was looking better in black than she did in pink. Women really can appear like different people with those hair wands, make-up, and dresses.

She blinked, giving me a fixed look. “Can you get Janet out of the car? She’s wasted and I can’t move her. I’ll come get her in the morning and drop off her car.”

“How’d you find out where I live?” I asked.

“What?” she said as if I had asked her a stupid question, turning up her lip at me.

I replied, “What?”

Her face twisted as she turned up her nose. She quickly calmed and said again, “What?”

I squinted, fixing my mouth to respond but was cut off.

“What’s keeping you from your bed, Kit Kat?” Reagan came from behind me in one of my tee shirts. That was it—a thin all-white tee shirt, and you could see everything. Her hand slipped under my shirt as she looked out the door. “Who’s she?”

My mouth twisted into a malicious grin as I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. I was getting ready to play this out. Reagan’s head stopped right under my neck. Looking out at Spirit, I saw she would stop right under my chin.

“So, are you coming?” Spirit asked, probably giving Reagan the wrong idea.

And since she wanted to play that game. . . I knew just what to do to get under her luscious skin. Already knowing what Reagan’s response was going to be, I waited for my cue.

“Where are you going with her, Kit Kat?” she asked on cue, stepping in front of me and rising on her tiptoes. Like I knew she would.

I looked down at her and moved my free hand to the middle of her ass. “Nowhere. I’m doing something for Janet. You know I couldn’t possibly go anywhere with that.” I kissed her and took a full grip of her bare ass. I kissed and touched her in a way that would make anybody watching feel me kiss them through her, and Reagan’s moaning added a cherry on top. By the quick shift of Spirit’s weight and huff of irritation, I could tell it bothered her. Bothered her worse than what she did bothered me.

Success.

Spirit grumbled, whipped around, and charged off down the hall. Once I heard her heels clicking down the stairs, I pushed Reagan away from me.

She punched my chest. “You’re such an asshole, Kyle.”

I wiped my mouth. “What? You didn’t really think I would kiss you for you, did you?” Absolutely not, it was all for Spirit, just to see if I could draw a reaction from her.

Reagan’s hand whipped toward my face and I grabbed her wrist. “Go grab a pair of my pants, put them on, and I’ll wait here for you. So you can get your ass out of my crib.”

“I hate you so much,” she uttered, with an angered squint to her eyes.

I smirked and pecked her turned-up lips. “You’d love me if it wasn’t for you.” I smacked her butt. “Now hurry up so you can get out. You’re fucking up the ho-free zone I got going on in here.”

Her hand swung at me and I let it hit me. I deserved that one.

“I’m sorry, Tulip. You’re not a ho. Just a cheating gold digger.”

A horn blew loudly outside. Something told me Spirit was about to get a lot more interesting.

 Val

“The nerve!” I slammed down on the horn of Janet’s car again. Kyle was probably too busy with Princess Beauty to come help his so-called “friend for a while” out of the car.

God, I couldn’t wait to kill him! He did nothing but make my life more stressful and annoying than it already was. “Yeah. Thanks, Kyle.”

“Who?” Janet asked, head slumped over, too drunk to open her eyes.

“And you’re just as bad as him,” I told her, thinking now was a good time to let her know I knew her secret and get away with her not remembering. “How dare you be friends with the guy I have to assassinate and not tell me? I’m sorry, Janet, but you’re going to be one less friend’s friend.”

Kyle and his perfect Barbie walked from the main door of his building.

He walked her to her car, helped her in, and leaned over in her window to tell her something. She kissed his cheek and drove off with a smile brighter than she was.

It was wrong of me to want to smack that smile from her perfect face and knock out her perfectly straight teeth. . . But I did.

I breathed, calming down. I think most of my anger was with my life as a whole.

I just found out I lost my parents, my employer was putting even more pressure on me to kill Kyle’s mother, and all I could think was, if I didn’t want my mom murdered and snatched from me, why should I do it to him. That thought led me to think of how his mother was already sick, but that thought took me to Kyle’s sister and how I wished she’d never come back because before I got the okay to kill Kyle, I had to kill everyone else in his family. And that thought rested hard in my brain and started a headache.

Kyle flipped the handle of Janet’s passenger door, jarring me back.

I reached over and pulled up the lock, then got out.

“If you’re supposed to be her best friend, why’d you let her get this drunk?” he asked, picking up Janet from the car.

I tried not to check out his arms as they flexed to manage Janet’s weight, or acknowledge his gaze, as he noticeably looked me over. His deep green eyes caressed my body in replace of his hands, igniting a desire to feel him touch me in areas they lingered. They finally met mine and his right brow rose slowly, questioning.

I looked away from him to the opened car door. Stepping to it, I pushed it closed.

“I would have gotten that,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Look,” he started as I turned back to him, “I don’t know what your problem is with me or what I did to light a fire under your ass, but the attitude is not necessary.”

My eyes narrowed as my hand raised with my index finger pointed, ready to give him a piece of my mind. “I’m―”

“You’re what—sorry, thankful, appreciative? Which one is it, because I’ve never done so much for an unappreciative person, ever? I mean you’d think I was―”

“You were what—rude, annoying, an asshole?” I shot back at him.

A miffed squint darkened his eyes as a flash of anger sparked in them. It disappeared as soon as it came. He looked down at Janet and adjusted her weight. Looking up at his apartment, he then shot his gaze to me, then back at Janet.

I assumed he was thinking about taking Janet upstairs because she was probably getting a little heavy for him to continue to hold. But he knew if he walked away, I would be gone if he came back down. And for some dreadful reason he wanted to continue this argument and torture me further.

“You know what. . .” He bit down hard on his bottom lip before he concluded, “You’re one of the reasons decent guys turn into dicks.” He passed me as he ambled to his door.

As he did, I tried to think of a great comeback. Maybe, and you’re the reason assassins like me can’t get their job done stress free. But that didn’t seem nearly equivalent to his insult.

I forced my already hurting feet to walk back around the car to the driver’s side. I got in, started it, and drove away with my pity and annoyance heavy in my pinched nose and turned up lip.

I walked into the house, dropping clothes on the way to my room. I didn’t care much about removing my make-up or showering. I just wanted to sink into my mattress and forget about everything.

As I set the alarm on my phone, the black bar peeked from the top of my screen with an unfamiliar number. I pulled it down to read the message.

Unknown: Spirit, do you think you can spare me your attitude so I can ask you a question?

My heart fluttered, dropped, and slowly climbed back up to my chest from my butt. I stared at his text and studied this “Spirit” name he’d decided to call me.

Me: My name is not Spirit.

Kyle: I’m aware of that.

Me: How did you get my number?

Kyle: I stole it from Janet’s phone.

Me: . . .Stalker. . .?

Kyle: Don’t flatter yourself, Spirit.

Me: Why are you texting me?

Kyle: Tell me to stop. . .

This guy. . . I typed stop. But my damn thumb wouldn’t let me hit the send. Kyle was playing this game very well and I didn’t like what it was doing to me.

Kyle: ???

Kyle: Are you there, Spirit?

Kyle: Hello. . .

Me: Stop.

I forced my finger to tap the word send. I’d never had to fight against a body part before. “Damn you, thumb.”

I waited for him to text back and he didn’t. I checked my phone every three minutes. I know because of the time that caught my eye each time I woke it up. 1:33, 1:36, 1:39 . . . 2:49. It was as if I was back in high school, impatiently waiting on the cute guy to call me. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking.

Grumbling, I tossed the phone to the other side of my bed and got comfortable under my sheets.

Just as my mind blanked, the phone buzzed.

I jumped up, searching through bundles of covers and corners of pillows. “Where the hell did I put that phone?”

I leapt to the other side of the bed and looked at the floor. The light was slowly dimming as I dipped down to grab it.

Kyle: You asleep, Spirit?

Me: I said stop.

Kyle: I never said if you told me to stop that I would.

I smiled, staring at my phone as I lay on my bed halfway on it and halfway off.

Me: I don’t like you. I’d prefer you didn’t text me.

Kyle: You didn’t need to tell me that. That goes without saying. If you preferred I didn’t text you, you would block me. I needed to prove something to myself. See you in class tomorrow.

Me: . . .

Kyle: Stop.

“Ugh!” I dropped the phone back on the floor and lay slumped over on the bed. I stayed in that position for the remainder of the night.

***

My job had gotten a hell of a lot harder. Now Kyle knew me, he noticed me, he was aware of me. Sitting in American Literature, his eyes continued scoping out for me. It was bad enough I had to kill his mom tonight and I still wasn’t sure how I would manage, now that I knew she was like a mom to Janet.

I rolled my eyes when they locked with his and he smirked.

I hated that I got this call. No job I’d ever taken was this hard. My best friend was his best friend. This was so disheartening to me, especially knowing that she’d been lying to me about it. But I couldn’t be mad with Janet, she could be friends with whoever she wanted. She didn’t know I had a hit out for Kyle.

My phone buzzed.

Kyle: Stop rolling your eyes at me. They take on a different color when they look off to the right. It confuses me about who you are.

Me: Don’t worry about who I am.

I looked over at him, sitting on the other side of the lecture hall. He stared at me. God, and he was so obvious about it. He bent over his desk, propping his chin on his hands, and stared. His face was expressionless, eyes tantalizing, and his macho posture all but screamed he had me.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, the deepest breath my lungs could handle. He had no idea what I was really up to and his taunting me was making me so much angrier than I’d already been. I just wanted to throw my phone at his head.

I peeked my eyes open and he was still staring. Dammit!

Me: Stop looking at me.

His phone lit up on his desk, but he wouldn’t release me from his stare.

Me: Please stop, you’re weirding me out.

His phone lit up and moved a bit.

I pointed to it.

He shook his head.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” I mouthed.

He smiled and it forced my pumping heart to stall. God, that smile. . . His lips smoothed out and his bright teeth peeked out from behind them. It was real, causing his eyes to slightly darken as they squinted a bit from his cheeks rising. He slowly nodded as a peeked interest settled in his expression.

“Stop,” I mouthed.

He mouthed, “Why? I’m finally starting to like you.”

I grinned, looking away from him. I tried to hide it, covering my mouth, but feeling my face flush, I’m sure he could tell. My phone buzzed in my hand.

Janet: I’m crashing at your place. Thanks for looking out for me last night.

I smiled wider for no reason at all. Maybe if I seemed really into this text, Kyle would stop looking.

Me: Okay.

As I closed out that text, another came in.

Kyle: Boyfriend?

Me: Yes. He’s just making it back. I’m so happy. I haven’t seen him in months.

Something slammed onto a table.

I looked up at Kyle. He had stopped looking at me and was slumped in his chair attention turned to Professor Fletcher.

I wanted to laugh. Take that!

***

Chem was packed. Everyone in the class was loud, and my phone going off with reminders from the agency was more annoying than Kyle, Rick, and Ron’s laughter. I hadn’t thought Kyle and Rick were going to hit it off this well, but they were getting along better than Janet and I.

Being cut off from Kyle’s calls and e-mails made me feel left out of his life. I was so deep inside his life and now that he had actually made contact with me . . .it gave me too many conflicting feelings.

“Boys, be a little quieter,” Instructor McMenamin said.

No one was taking any notice of me, or maybe that’s just what I’d been made to believe. I left. Snuck out when I hoped no one was looking.

I stopped by home to gear up. Lightweight gym shoes, leggings to easily move in, shirt to easily move in, hair in a perfect ponytail, headband over perfect ponytail, leather gloves with the fingers cut. Hey! I love these gloves. Jacket. . .? Nah, it’s too hot. Phone, pistol, silencer, scope. . .? Nah, no scope, I don’t plan to be that far away. iPad, hotspot, snack. I’m starving. Maybe I should grab a bite before I go. Eat snack now.

My phone beeped with yet another e-mail.

Claudia: You have until sunrise. We need confirmation as soon as you have terminated the Mrs.

I’d never felt so guilty, so bad about an assignment before. I’d always been able to get in and out, watch my target for a few months to a year, figure out the way to take them out, and then off ’em and be back home the next day.

Home. . .?

The thought that it was no longer existent set me back a little. I shook it off, knowing it was now or never and I needed to get this over with.

I got in the car and headed over to Kyle’s mother’s house. My trackers, plants, wires, bugs . . . nothing worked anymore. The tracker I placed in his mother’s truck was saying she was at the market. But as I sat in the car, parked across the street from her house, I clearly saw her there, getting out of her truck nowhere near the market.

I watched as she walked around to the passenger’s backseat door. Maybe she was at the market and everything was just running slowly.

She opened the door and. . .

“Get the shit out of here? No fucking way!” I wanted to jump out of the car and angrily fire off my gun.

It was a kid! A little girl jumped out of the backseat and whatever she did had Kyle’s mom laughing. They grabbed hands and happily skipped into the house.

Breathing deeply to calm down, I pushed myself hard against the seat and slammed my hand on the armrest.

Why does this damn job keep getting harder and harder?

A good assassin wouldn’t have let this faze her. She would have shrugged, gotten out of the car, walked right up to the door, knocked, walked in, and offed the poor old lady in front of the baby. Then she would have looked at the child in stone silence as she thought about whether this child should be tortured for the rest of her life because she was a witness to seeing her grandmother . . .murdered? Or if she should take her out too.

I am not a good assassin. I couldn’t off that baby. The thought wouldn’t cross my mind. I couldn’t kill that poor old lady in front of that child.

My main request, when I took any assignment, was that there were no children involved. I only took families or individuals eighteen or older, and they needed to have done something extremely bad.

My phone buzzed.

Kyle: Where are you, Spirit?

He is out to make my life a living hell.

I ignored him, left my phone in the car, and headed to the front door of his mom’s house. I didn’t know what I was about to do. But it wasn’t going to be good.

Chapter Seven

 Kyle

“Kyle, can I see you after class?” Winter asked.

I gave her a quick nod.

I made plans with Rick to accompany him to some shindig with his crew. Though the thought of going to some shindig was less than appealing, a small part of me was looking forward to it. It’d been a while since I really let loose and I was owed some time off. Going out was a good idea, I tried to convince myself. It would give me some time to get my mind off of Spirit, something I was finding trouble doing at the moment.

Without thinking, I texted Spirit again. I wasn’t sure what attracted me to her but I loved how feisty she could be. She could be a real bitch and for some odd reason, I found that very attractive about her. That explained why I always ended up getting hurt. I was attracted to the wrong women. But Spirit . . . her rejection felt forced. Like every roll of her eyes, the aggravated sway of her hips, the irritated tilt of her head, and that delicious smack of her lips all contradicted what she really wanted and how she actually felt.

I was going to break her. If not just to prove myself right, I was going to rip her open to see what was really going on behind those hazel eyes. And why in the hell I made her that damn angry. I didn’t know what I had done to that girl. I wouldn’t do anything to jog her away from her boyfriend, but enough to prove she was purposely a bitch and it was unnecessary.

At four p.m., everyone gathered their things and started leaving the lecture hall.

“Kyle, don’t forget—nine o’clock. Please come.” Rick grinned deviously. “I got you something.” His smile grew. Whatever it was, he liked it more than I would.

I nodded, rising my brows. “As long as it’s not you, waiting for me on my bed on rose petals, I’m there.”

He laughed. “Nope, that’s next weekend,” he called as he left.

I waited for everyone to leave before walking down the stairs to Winter bent over her desk, looking over a few papers or a book. I didn’t pay close enough attention, becoming distracted when she turned to me.

She pulled her glasses from her eyes and the clip from her hair, both at once. Her long lashes fanned her cheeks as she gently shook her head, allowing her brown locks to fall around her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” I asked slowly, a foot from her.

Her eyes dropped to my hands resting at my sides. She lifted her eyes back to me.

“I don’t read body language,” I told her. If she wanted me to grab her, she was going to have to instruct me to do so.

She stood and ran up the stairs to the doors to lock them.

I turned to watch her come back as I leaned against the desk.

The way she was, all silent and tempting, I thought she was going to want to take things slow. Maybe I would’ve gripped her thighs, lifted her up as she clutched my hips with her legs, gently laid her on her crowded desk as I kissed down her neck to her chest, then I would have dipped under her skirt to take off anything that would’ve blocked me from entering her.

But no. . .

She was yanking my belt off, ripping down my zipper, and forcing my pants down. She devoured me before I could lean off the desk far enough. She sucked me deep and jerked me off. She wouldn’t allow me to touch her. She was moaning and groaning and I hadn’t done shit to her yet. She was. . . Actually, she was feeling pretty damn good.

I ceased my complaining, enjoying her, trying to maintain composure while every time I tried to clutch her shoulder or knot my fingers in her hair, she smacked my goddamn hand away.

“God dammit, Winter.” I clasped her desk tight in my hands. “You’re gonna suck the skin off my cock at this rate.” And maybe get jizz all over your face.

“Shit,” I grunted as she took me deep and my phone chirped with a text. It never left my hand, so I didn’t have to interrupt her to grab it from my pocket.

She groaned, irritated I began to focus on something other than her.

“Shh,” I soothed and thrust my hips in a silent request she’d suck me harder. “It could be important. Keep going.”

On a good day, Winter would walk off on me when I looked at my phone while we were in the midst of doing something. But this Winter—she was at work and didn’t look like she was punching out until I did. I wanted to push my fingers through her hair, but she was all anti-touch-me.

Grimmer: Found out who it was. . .

Me: Rick?

For some reason, I had to believe Rick was playing me. He was too perfect of a person and it was hard for me to like someone. It just came easy with him, like we were born to be friends. Hold it . . . that sounded a little off.

Grimmer: Who is Rick?

Me: No one. I’m in the middle of something. Just tell me who.

So, it wasn’t him. That was a relief because I really liked the guy. Plus, he’d gotten me something. I didn’t know what that something was. But I liked gifts.

Grimmer: A woman. She works for Cohen, her name’s Valerie Harper. They have a major hit out on you. And saved you for last. Check on your mom ASAP. She’s at the top of the list with a checkout of today’s date.

I stared at the message for a brief second, trying to remember why that name looked so familiar.

“Kyle,” Winter called, still squatted. “What’s wrong? I’m not that bad. I’m actually not bad at all.”

I pulled my eyes from my phone, looking down at her, then myself. Deflated. . .

“I’m sorry, Winter,” I said, zipping up my pants and putting my phone in my pocket. “I gotta go.” I pulled her up and kissed her cheek. I don’t kiss on the mouth; it’s too personal, too significant.

“Why?” She grabbed my hand as I was letting her go.

“Something has come up. I’ll call you later.”

I rushed home, texting Janet to go check on mom. She stayed closer to her than I did. Chrissy was supposed to be there with her today and if someone killed my mom and my niece . . .life was going to get ugly for Valerie Harper.

I texted Janet following my request for her to check on mom.

Me: Who the fuck is Valerie Harper?

I was able to change my pants, grab my gun, and pick my phone up again by the time she texted me back.

Arch: You know her. . . What happened with her? You two finally decide to be friends? 😉

Fucking Valerie Harper. . . Spirit. . . She’s Spirit!

I raced from my house to the parking lot behind my building where I had parked my truck. I got in, started it, and another text came through.

I didn’t have time to look at it as I sped to my mom’s house, trying to avoid the police.

My mom’s truck was in the drive and no other cars were around, nothing around the house looked out of place. I jumped out and rushed to the front door. It was partially cracked open and a violent panic dropped in my stomach.

I slowly pushed opened the door and called, “Mom!”

Getting no reply, I drew my gun, taking every step with precaution. If someone was here, by my yelling out, they knew I was here. And if they had a hit out on me, they also knew I didn’t play. They knew how good I was, they knew I was hard to take down, and they knew I would not hesitate to put a bullet between their eyes.

I tried to listen to the house, but I couldn’t hear anything over my pounding heart.

I crept through the living room. A soft sound came from behind the corner of the kitchen.

I crept around the wall, gun aimed and ready to fire. “Drop it!”

As I was coming from around the corner, my niece, Chrissy was turning around. She saw me with my gun aimed and dropped her pouch of applesauce on the floor, her hands raised in the air to surrender, her mouth opened wide, and tears filling her eyes.

I quickly put my gun away, pulling my shirt over it so it would no longer be visible. I rushed over and knelt down in front of her. I signed as I said, “I’m sorry I scared you. Why was the door open?”

She signed, “I’m not sure. Grandma is out back.” She wiped her eyes, drying her face.

“Okay,” I signed and said. I can’t help but talk as I sign. It helps me make sure I’m signing what I’m trying to say.

As I rose, she grabbed my arm. I waited, watching her hands and mouth move though no sounds escaped her lips. “Have you talked to my father?”

I shook my head. “No, but he will call soon.” Nixon always makes sure he calls Chrissy when he can. “I’m going to find your grandmother, okay?” I signed and said.

She nodded and picked up her pouch of applesauce, which hadn’t spilled one drop.

Chrissy couldn’t hear and didn’t speak. She was seven. As a baby, she could hear; I remember being with Nixon and her mom, Catherine, at the hospital and the nurses came in with big smiles, explaining that all the tests went well. But some months later, her hearing faded.

I swept the house, searching for my mom. It wasn’t until I heard something from the garage that I looked outside.

I ran from the back door to the shed. “What are you doing? Put that down.” I took a box that was bigger than she was from my mom’s hands. “Get out of here. All this dirt and dust can be dangerous for you.”

She wiped her hands on her shirt. “I’m looking for that box that had all those children books. Chrissy’s read all the books in the house and she needs some more.”

“Chrissy is in there by herself and the front door was open. I’m yelling through the house calling you, not getting a response. I had my damn gun aimed at her because she scared the hell out of me. You scared the hell out of me. God, Mom! I almost killed my niece.” The more I reran what happened in my mind, the angrier I got. “Go in the house. I’ll find the books.” Why would she leave the damn door open?

“What did you tell Chrissy? You probably scared her, poor baby,” she cried, running from the garage back into the house.

I leaned against the deep freezer near the door, trying to finally relax and gather my thoughts. It took minutes for my heart to stop racing. I dug in my pocket for my phone, then realized I had left it in the truck.

Mom was fine. No one was here. She did crazy stuff like that—leaving the front door open. She’d think she had closed it behind her but hadn’t. I always got on her about that because she knew better.

I found the box she was looking for and went back into the house.

“Mom, did anyone come by here?” I asked, setting the box of books by the back door.

Chrissy silently cheered when she saw them, jumping up and down, shoving her balled fists in the air.

I smiled and signed as I said, “You love to read, right?”

She grinned and signed with exaggeration, “I love to read.” Her eyes opened a little wider, appearing hopeful before I knew her request. “You’ll read me a story?”

I rose my brows and widened my eyes so she’d see my excitement. “Of course I’ll read you a story. Pick a good one. I’ll be waiting in the living room for you.”

She happily nodded.

I left her to shuffle through the box of books.

“Mom,” I called, watching her inject herself with a needle to her thigh. I turned away and waited for when I thought she should be finished. After something hit the table, I turned back. “Did someone come by here today?”

She wiped her mouth after drinking from her glass of water. I watched her prepare to answer my question. Whatever medicine she had taken slowed her down. Mom was getting old. The greys were sprouting from around her edges and it was either old age or her sickness that had her hands shaking.

I felt bad for yelling at her about the door. It was important to me for their safety but was probably the last thing on her mind while bringing Chrissy in the house.

Before a peep could leave her mouth, I said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mom.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re always worried.” The medicine also calmed her down; usually she’d be yelling back at me. “We did have a visitor. A beautiful young woman stopped by. She asked us about the neighborhood and wondered how I liked it.”

My brows furrowed. “What was her name?”

She tapped the table with her thumb. “Henley, Hazel, Hanna. . . I don’t know.” She threw her hand up.

“Harper?” I offered.

“No, not that.” Her eyes started to droop.

“Can you tell me what she looked like?” I wanted to get just a little bit of information out of her. I hated to push, but I needed something. She didn’t want to put up surveillance so all I had was that damn alarm system.

Mom nodded and clutched her stomach. “Do me a favor and make me something to eat, Kyle. The medicine is making me nauseous.”

Chrissy came around to the kitchen and held up her book.

I nodded and pointed to the living room so she could wait for me in there.

She skipped to the living room and took a seat. I watched her smile as she flipped through the pages, happy she was about to be reading soon.

I made mom a light meal of chicken breast and vegetables. And made sure she was okay. The medicine did this to her. It made her sluggish, drowsy, and too calm. I hated seeing her like this, and I’d never get used to it.

Before sitting down with Chrissy, I grabbed my phone from the truck. It had rang twelve times and I had twenty-two texts. Texting Grimmer, I asked him to do a satellite scan over the house for plants or wires, to make sure the alarm system wasn’t hacked, and to do a monitoring over the house to make sure no one but the three of us were here. I couldn’t do a sweep like I wanted to with Chrissy here and mom getting drowsy. Grimmer quickly replied letting me know he was on it. Within minutes, he sent another text telling me the house was clear.

Spirit finally texted me back. I wanted to wring her neck. But instead of focusing on Spirit and the other texts and calls, I gave my full attention to Chrissy and read her this incredibly long picture book as I relaxed. The benefit was that it was a great story and had us both laughing.

My mother’s house phone rang as we finished the last page. Nixon was the only one who rang the landline. He was the only reason we got the landline.

At some point during the story, mom left for her bedroom, and I was sure the medicine had kicked her butt.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Kyle?”

“Of course, what other man would be answering the phone?”

“What is up? I haven’t talked to you in a few weeks. I heard you’re still ducking and dodging.”

“Being a wanted man by all these ladies would have you under sheets too.” It was code for: Being on one too many hit lists would have anyone trying to stay under the radar.

“Yeah well, you keep wrapped up. Don’t let those ladies get you clapped.”

He kind of lost me with that. I didn’t know if we were still talking about the hit or actual ladies. But I responded, “I got it.” Because I did. For either situation. I always kept a rubber for my cock and I always had Paula on my hip. Well, she wasn’t on my hip all the time, but today she was pretty snugged.

“Is my daughter there? Can you talk to Chrissy for me?”

“Yes. Hold on, let me get her.” I waved in Chrissy’s direction, hoping to grab her attention.

She looked up from the book.

I signed to her and said, “Your father is on the phone.”

She smiled big and jumped from the couch.

“Tell me what she’s doing, Kyle. Tell me how she looks.” He sounded desperate. I didn’t know when the last time he saw Chrissy was, but it was deep in his voice that he missed her.

“She’s running from the couch, smiling. When she smiles, her brown eyes spread wide and her cheeks kind of pinch. It makes it look like she’s smiling with her entire face. Her mom left her hair down, so it’s blowing behind her as she’s running over to me. She’s signing, ‘Father, father.’ Or it could be coming out, ‘Daddy, Daddy.’ She’s really excited.”

“What did Catherine dress her in?”

“Well, it’s scorching here today, so she’s wearing these cute little sky-blue shorts that come down to her knees, a white tank with a group of girls on it, and some white shoes.”

“Do the shoes have strings or are they slip-ons? You know, like little flats.”

I twisted my lips and my brows creased. What an odd question. I took another glance at her shoes. “They’re little flats.”

“Aww. . . I bought her those.”

“Her little fingernails are polished pink. She’s signing, ‘Tell him you read to me.’ I’m signing back to her, ‘I just did.’”

Nixon cleared his throat. “Ask her how the story was.”

“I’m signing your question. She’s signing back, ‘It was so funny. I loved it. I love the way Uncle Kyle reads to me. He really gets into the story, like the way you do when Mom and I come visit.’”

“Tell her I said I’m happy she enjoyed the story. I’d ask her to tell me what it was about but Chrissy is long-winded and you’d probably need to break for water.”

I signed to Chrissy what he’d said and asked her to wait a second as I replied to his comment. “Nixon, if you want me to ask, I will. I don’t mind. I know how much this means to you. I’ll describe her facial features and everything just so you can get the entire picture. How much time do you have? Chrissy is long-winded.”

“I’d really appreciate that. I have another twenty minutes. Give me more of the facial expressions, then do the story.”

“Okay. I’m signing to her, ‘Your father wants to know what happened in the story.’ She’s nodding excitedly as she begins. Her face starts off like it’s mysterious, and it was. Her eyebrows are taut, her chin pinched, and her little nose is scrunched up.” I described everything to Nixon. When he responded to parts of the story, I signed to Chrissy what he was saying.

She was excited to be talking to her father even though she wasn’t really talking to him. And it was the same for him. They didn’t share one word, but the excitement in Chrissy’s face and the happiness in Nixon’s voice had me picturing them in front of me sharing this moment.

***

“I’m going to go bye,” I signed to Chrissy. “Janet will be here in two minutes. Wait in the room with grandmother until she comes in. Do not go near the front or back door for anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” she signed. “I will and will not go to the doors. I love you, Uncle Kyle. See you later.”

I signed, “I love you too. Be good.” I kissed her head and waited for her to make it into mom’s room and close the door.

I took a second to look over Valerie Harper’s text before I pulled out of my mom’s driveway.

Spirit: Yes, I wasn’t feeling well.

It was a reply to my text to her from earlier, when I asked if she left class early. I fumed in anger. She was playing me. There was no way she knew I knew about her. Even though Mom couldn’t describe her to me or remember her name, something told me it was she who had come by the house. I didn’t know what type of game she was playing, but I was determined to win it and, if necessary, take her out before she got me.

As I pulled out of the driveway, Janet was pulling in. I could always rely on Janet to look out for our family.

I drove back home thinking about how Spirit found me. I thought I had been doing a damn good job of staying under everyone’s radar. No one was able to find me. I was going to have to find out more about her and her agency.

Knowing Grimmer had Mom’s house covered I was able to relax. I walked into my crib and headed for the shower. The phone buzzed.

Rick: DO NOT STAND ME UP!

Me: I am getting ready for you right now.

Rick: Awesome, make sure you smell good and wear something nice. I want to struggle with it when I try to take it off.

Me: Boxers. . .

Rick: Briefs. . .

Me: 30 minutes.

I ended our conversation, putting a stop to our weird back and forth texts, even though I’d started it. I should’ve known he was going to take it that far.

 Val

I slumped down on my couch, clutching The Clock Rounded 3ee against my chest. It was an extremely weird title for a book, but I went with it. It was one that had sat up on my shelf and I kept telling it, I’m going to read you tomorrow, I’m going to read you tomorrow. But more than a year’s worth of tomorrows had passed.

I started reading, waiting for my clock to tell me it was ten p.m. I still needed a body.

I had gone to Kyle’s mother’s house and she’d thrown me off guard by being the nicest lady I’d ever met, besides my mother. I asked her about the neighborhood and she was so hospitable. She made me a snack and gave me a beverage as we talked about the community, politics, and children. Children came up in the conversation because this beautiful little girl, Chrissy, walked into the kitchen. She waved at me and I said hi. She smiled softly and I asked her how old she was. She didn’t respond, so I looked at the grandmother. She explained to me Chrissy was deaf and signed to her my question.

Not only was his mom amazing, not only was Kyle just so damn irritatingly nice, and not freaking only did we share a damn friend. . . But he was the uncle of a beautiful seven-year-old girl who couldn’t hear, who he’d taught ASL. Apparently, he taught the entire family sign language so they could communicate with her. I didn’t learn much about the girl’s mother and father, partially because I didn’t ask. Though, I was positive if I had, Kyle’s mom would have told me. She did however, happen to mention Kyle and the things he’s done for the little girl and her absent father. And if I’d thought that man couldn’t get any more perfect, I was totally wrong.

The longer I sat there, comfortably, in their house, the madder I became. I left. Forced myself from their kitchen table, thanked Mrs. Shultz for her time and the snack, and avoided stomping to the door. I left without laying a finger on either of them, which brought forth plan B.

My clock finally beeped for ten p.m. I was grateful it had because this book was making me want to stick a needle in my eye to pluck the confusion out of my brain from these psychopathic characters.

I got dressed again and headed out to the bus stop, to wait for the bus that would take me near Hayden’s neighborhood.

Bet he thought I’d forgotten about him.

I wasn’t going to let Hayden live down murdering my parents even if it had been an accident. The rules strictly say DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE. Why. . .? Because people die! It happens all the damn time.

So. . . I constructed a plan. One that would give me a body to replace Kyle’s mother, and allow me to take out my parent’s murderer. I’d staked out the Reynolds’ house and put in an ass load of research on Hayden and his mother. My strategy was flawless; I intended to go to his house and use his mother to replace Kyle’s mom. I’d hang Hayden and make it look like a suicide so nothing would tie either death to a murder. He was mentally disturbed anyway. He was seeing a therapist for some major psychological issues, including bipolar illness. He’d also suffered a deep depression they couldn’t find a fix for. They heavily medicated him and he started selling the pills they prescribed. A year and three months ago, he got caught and almost, almost got sentenced, but the judge ruled in favor of the money. Had he gotten locked up then, my parents wouldn’t be dead now.

There wasn’t much about the mother. I just figured his illness had to be genetic and since she’d been too afraid to say hello when I called their house blocked, maybe if she walked into a room and saw her son hanging from the ceiling fan, she just might put a pistol in her mouth.

My Ts were crossed and Is were dotted.

I walked down the quiet street of large mansion-like houses. It had been a very long bus ride over here and an even longer walk. I made sure to tuck my hair under my beanie, I wore full gloves so I didn’t risk the chance of fingerprints, and I covered all my skin, save my face, so I didn’t risk getting skin cells on anything. I was all set.

Most places didn’t call for this much protection, but I was sure, when Daddy got home, he and his big bucks were going to have the Feds all over this.

The house only had light by the front door and garage, everything else was pitch-black, darkened by the thick trees and bushes. Making my way around the back, I found my entrance; a window I saw they never closed when I scoped out their house. I climbed the thick metal gutter, and crept through the window into a dark bedroom. The mom was running her mouth on the phone from somewhere not too far from the room I stood in.

She walked past this room, not even looking in its direction. I snuck out, creeping in the direction she had come from. Her room.

It was extremely large with an oversized circular bed sitting right in the middle of the floor. The room was painted gold and off it was a large vanity, larger bathroom, and gigantic closet.

I quietly searched her drawers near her bed until I found what I was looking for. I knew it would be here. Her pistol.

She was still far from the room, as I could tell from her talking loudly on the phone.

I left her room and scurried down the hall until I heard a second voice. Male.

This hall led to another. Near its ending was an open door that lit the area of the hall in front of it. A shadow paced back and forth past the door. It was just the shadow of a head moving along the floor; that told me the person in the room was not near the door’s entrance.

I slowly crept down the hall, not hearing myself move. I’d waited before I peeked in, going unnoticed.

The back side of a man disappeared through a door from within the room. I took the opportunity to pull the room’s door closed and locked it. I scanned the pictures hung on the walls and sitting on the dressers to make sure I had the right guy. They were of Hayden and his friends, I supposed. None of him and his family. The room was housekeeper clean, and not a pillow was out of place.

The bed wasn’t far from the door he’d entered, so I sat on it and faced the door. I wanted to be the first thing he saw when that door opened.

Minutes passed, and I could only wonder what the hell he was doing that was taking him so damn long.

The door finally opened, but he wasn’t standing in front of it. A faucet turned on and in the next second, I was smacked in the face by the smell of shit. I almost gagged as I tried to hold my breath and not deviate from my own assignment.

The smell was awful. I’d never had to smell a skunk’s stench. But that smell was like a horse had eaten a skunk after downing rotten tomatoes, left some boiled eggs sitting in vinegar for three days before he ate them too . . .then his stomach got so messed up and bloated he took a large shit on top of a dead cow that had been dead for six days already.

The faucet cut off and I was grateful he sprayed some air freshener.

He exited the bathroom and I lifted my index finger to my lips.

I’ve taken out a few guys with the seductive summons, but I wasn’t dressed sexy—I was completely covered.

He smiled, pulled closed the bathroom door, and leaned his back against it. “Do you want me to go first . . .or you?”

I was tempted to ask, “To do what?” But I ignored him, rose from the bed, and walked over to his desk chair. He watched me as I pulled the desk chair to the spot of the room right under the fan.

He grinned, eyeing me. “Cool. Lap dance.”

For the hell of it, I nodded. Hayden was a little cute. Blond hair, straight nose, nice lips. But he was short, and his clothes were tighter than mine. His shortness annoyed me because that meant I was going to need to do extra work to get the rope around the fan.

He sat in the chair and I stood in front of him. I swayed my hips left then right and spread my legs to sway in another move.

His hand reached up and took a full grip of me between my legs. He jumped to his feet and I stepped back.

“What the fuck?” he hissed in an angered whisper. “You’re a woman,” he accused as if it were a sin to be born without a penis.

“Hence the boobs,” I told him, pointing to my chest.

“I hoped they were fake. Why would they send me a chick?”

I wasn’t expecting him to be pissed that I came accompanied with a va-jay-jay instead of a whacker. So my next move wasn’t so thought out. I pulled the gun and aimed it at him.

“I need you to step up on that chair, wrap the rope that’s on your bed around your neck and the fan, and jump. Or I can just kick the chair out from under you. Your choice.”

“Look, bitch. You don’t seem to recognize me.” He didn’t look or talk queer; his voice was deep and hard—overly manly. “But I won’t say anything if you just turn around and leave our house.”

I shook my head. “As much as I’d like to do that, I can’t. See. . . You took something from me. And it’s only right I take something from you.” I motioned to him to stand up on the chair with a few slight tilts of my gun.

With a cunning amusement, he shook his head. “No. I don’t want to kill myself.”

“I hate to break it to you, sugar. But you already did.”

“The second that gun goes off, you’re dead,” he threatened, with an eye squinted and the opposite eyebrow rose and fell, showing his seriousness.

I pulled the silencer from my pocket and screwed it onto the barrel of his mother’s gun. “I think I’ll be okay.”

He rolled his eyes and stomped his foot. As he shook his head, he said, “Can you tell me what I did to you?”

“I’ll talk as you climb.” Keeping the gun aimed, I stepped over to the bed to grab the rope. He climbed up on the chair and as he did, I said, “You murdered my parents.” I handed him the rope. He took it. “Both of them.”

“I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”

“You didn’t kill them directly, like I’m preparing to do to you. But you did murder them. Tie it around your neck.” It’s amazing what people will do when you threaten them with a pistol. Here I was holding this guy’s life in my hands as he looked down the barrel of his mother’s gun.

The sense of power didn’t do to me what it usually would.

Most would feel triumphant. They’d take this power, this influence over a human and use it to their advantage. But it made me feel weak. It made me feel less than human. Watching him tie the rope around the ceiling fan, knot it, and then tie it around his neck, I felt like shit. But. . . I couldn’t let him off that easy. I wasn’t going to let my feelings stand in the way of him getting pay back.

“Now jump,” I told him.

He hesitated.

Without a second thought, I kicked the chair from under his feet.

He struggled, reaching out for me to save him. “I’m Valerie Harper. Because of your negligence for other peoples’ lives, you killed my parents, Kenneth and Diane Harper. And I am that dickless human who is returning the favor. I’m sorry . . . that’s probably not what you wanted to hear right now. I’m just really angry. Go toward the white light. It’s better after death . . . for most.” I watched him until he stilled. A deathly anger charged through my body like a raging bull, a vicious wrath consumed my blackened heart and it pumped an atrocity through my veins that caused a wicked heat to overcome me. Fuel to finish my night.

I crept from his room, closing the door behind me. His mother was still rambling on the phone, but she was back in her room. I had to wait for her to get off the phone. A witness was not in the plan. I prepared the gun for her suicide as I stood in the hall, waiting for her to wrap up her conversation.

She rambled on the phone for another twenty minutes before she finally told the person she was talking to that she was about to get in the shower.

I rushed into the room, needing to catch her before she made it to the bathroom. It was essential she didn’t cut on the light or the water. I needed her to be near the dresser in her room I had taken her pistol from or the bed.

She squealed when I entered her room with her gun clutched tight in my hand. She hurried to the dresser, making sure that, in fact, her gun was gone. Her hands raised in surrender. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what my husband did to you. But we can make up for it. Just tell me what you want.”

I thought about it, tapping the index finger of my right hand against my chin. “There is something I want, besides you making your way over to the edge of your bed.”

“What?” she whimpered, tiptoeing over.

“Sit,” I calmly instructed. “You won’t have a chance to do this now. But in your next life, do a better job at raising your children. As parents, you all hold a lot of responsibility for the impact your children have on the world. Don’t fuck up the rest of the world because you suck at being a parent.” She cried. “Don’t take all the blame,” I added. “Put some on your husband.”

I approached her and stuffed the barrel of the gun into her mouth. “Grab the gun,” I instructed kindly. She did and I pushed her finger to pull the trigger. Blood splattered across her king sized bed before she fell against it.

There. It’s finished.

The balloon expanding in my chest, I managed it as I glared at her. I felt the dark expression on my face; my brows relaxed, jaw tight, lips pinched barely but enough to tighten my cheeks, nostrils flared, and gaze a piercing knife. The anger I held had to be written all over it and the heat from my furious breaths and burn in my eyes proved I’d done nothing but make myself angrier.

I snapped a shot of the splattered blood, the picture only capturing her forehead. Luckily, her hair was the same color as Kyle’s mom’s. Brown.

I shuffled around the clothes in the drawer that had held the gun, to make it look like she rummaged through it looking for the firearm. I didn’t change anything else and I made sure both her door and her son’s door were open before I left.

Job completed, I exited out of the same dark room through which I had entered, dropping onto the darkened side of the house.

On the bus ride home, the regular me kicked in. I pulled my knees to my chest and lay my head against the window, avoiding looking at my reflection. Taking out who did it didn’t make me feel better. I was human again. Not an assassin, no longer a monster. I was completely human, crying to be set free from the heartbreak I brought on myself. Dying to find a different life than the one that caused me to know how to kill someone without even touching them, how to murder two people in one setting without a single scream or shot being heard. I didn’t know who I was. But I knew this wasn’t me. The me I knew wasn’t weak, or fragile, I didn’t feel, I didn’t care, I didn’t cry. . . I was supposed to be virtuous, I was supposed to be strong. . . And I no longer was. I was . . . broken. Experiencing my own loss again had changed me majorly.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

Chapter Eight

Kyle

For there to be a hit out on me, and for one of those hitters to be living in my area, I had to doubt her skills. Grimmer told me more than a month ago my mom and any relatives were up. Supposedly, now my mom and my relatives had been recorded as executed and I was next, and it was of high priority.

I didn’t know how they had them listed as terminated. My mom was alive. She wasn’t well, but she was alive. My sister had been crashing at my place and I didn’t want her to run away, but the process in getting her straight was a burdened struggle. I relied on Janet and Catherine to help me keep her clean and prevent her from being home alone. I couldn’t take seeing my baby sister suffer. Every time I walked in the house and saw her shaking and convulsing, the deep welts in her arms, the lack of color in her skin, the beg and hurt in her eyes. . . I would have preferred not to see her. When I was there, I took the battle of her rejecting me, fighting me to stay away from her, or I held her and tried to seem strong for her as she quivered and shook, and I prayed that all she was going through would be over soon. She still wouldn’t tell me what was up, and I tried my damnedest not to ask. I’d decided my petty need to seek revenge on the person that got her like that was less important than being the brother she needed right then.

“That girl from our chem class.” Rick walked over, handing me a can of soda, jarring me from my thoughts. “She showed up at your house. She’s been out for a while.”

I took in a deep breath thinking about Valerie Harper, my hit woman who was supposed to be taking me out. Yet, I was still alive. “Um hum. What about her?”

“Did you know her? She was smoking.”

“I think it was her birthday. She doesn’t look like that every day.”

“She’s cute in those baggy clothes too. She just wasn’t ‘Hey, check out my girl, she’s hot’ cute. But that night she showed up at your house, she was No matter what I wear on the outside I’m bangin’ up under it. Rip my clothes off so I can show you hot.”

I shrugged. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Janet, isn’t she also friends with that girl?”

“She is.”

“I could tell by the way you looked at her you were diggin’ her. You don’t want to know why she’s been missing?”

I threw a leg up on his ottoman in front of the couch we sat on. “If you’re interested in her, call Janet yourself and ask about her.”

He threw out his hand.

I tore my eyes away from the TV to glance at him. “What?”

“Give me your phone,” he stated impatiently, like I was supposed to know that gesture of his hand being thrown out in front of me was a request for my phone.

My brows knit. “Why?”

“To call Janet,” he stated matter-of-factly, again.

“Why?” I questioned belligerently, none of this making any sense to me.

“To find out about the girl.”

“What girl?”

He slapped my chest with the back of his hand. “Call Janet, find out about that girl that showed up at your house. You’ve been all uptight lately since your mom got out of the hospital. Take a load off with a pretty girl.”

I shrugged, slumping into the couch. “She’s not my type. Plus, she doesn’t like me.”

“Look, Kyle,” he said in a serious tone, facing me. “We are very compatible together.” I rolled my eyes. “I know you don’t want to leave me, and honestly. Truly. . .” His left hand flew to his chest and the other grasped my right hand where it lay on the couch. “I don’t want to share you. But I want you to be happy. And if allowing some lucky lady a smidgen of your time will help you be happy, I’m willing to sacrifice my dignity and try a threesome.”

I smacked him across his face. “The nerve!” I blurted. “This is just some trick so you can be with other people.” I stood from his couch and dramatically stormed for the door. “Don’t call me.” I exited, slamming the door for extra effect.

As I walked down the hall, his door opened and he yelled, “I still love you. Seriously, go out. I’ll be with Barb if you need me.”

I twisted around, registering he was kicking me out for Barb. “You’re blowing me off for a girl?”

He laughed. “You’re amazing, Kyle. You are. And we have so much in common, even our love for the opposite sex. But she’s a little more comfortable when I lay next to her at night.” A few women came out of their apartment door I happened to be blocking. They checked me out until Rick finished—loudly—“You’re just so much bigger than me, and when I think I’m clutching you the right way to keep you hard. . . You just don’t get it up for me anymore.”

One of the girls, who had a pierced nose, said, “The hot ones are always taken, or gay.”

I snapped my fingers and rolled my neck, probably looking worse than I felt about doing it.

Rick laughed at me and the girl’s reaction. “Call her,” he said, closing the door.

I wasn’t going to call Janet. I was going to swell my balls and go to Valerie Harper’s house. I was about to be completely out of line but I had nothing to lose. The worst that could happen was that she would kill me.

***

I knocked on the heavy metal door. After two minutes, I didn’t get an answer, so I knocked again.

Ever realize how badly you want to pull at a closed door to see if it’s unlocked? I wanted so badly to slide her door and see if it was unlocked. But if it were. . . I’d walk in. And if I walked in and she was there, what would I have said? “Oh, the door was unlocked.” Then she probably would say, “But it was closed.” Then I’d follow up with, “I know,” and then we’d probably stare awkwardly at each other while we each pondered what the other was thinking.

I decided against seeing if the door was open.

“Can I help you with something?” I whipped around to face Valerie Harper, who was holding a few grocery bags.

Though I expected her to, she didn’t look surprised to see me. “Hi,” I said. It was the first thing that came to mind.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked again, attitude flashing in her eyes from behind her glasses.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” I told her.

“There is a lot you don’t know about me. Can you excuse me so I can go home?” I stepped aside and she pulled open her door.

I knew it would be open!

She went in and set her bags down.

If I were the guy she thought I was, I would be following in after her. But I’m a gentleman. Plus, I knew she would come back, so I stood outside the door waiting for her.

There was something about Valerie Harper that kept me enticed. It was the oddest thing because everything about her didn’t make sense. From her being the one to assassinate me, to me still being alive, to her annoying repugnance for me, and yet . . . a soft spark of interest stayed constant in her eyes every time she looked at me. She was the most scrambled Rubik’s Cube I’d ever come in contact with. A challenge I couldn’t turn down.

“If there is nothing that you want, it would be a good idea for you not to hold up this spot in front of my door.” She stood in the door’s opening, avoiding eye contact. This her—this messy hair, glasses, baggy sweats and oversized tee shirt girl—was not the Valerie Harper that had jammed her finger in my face over a month ago. This girl seemed fragile and timid. Almost made me want to change her name to Essence. But it seemed like “Spirit” pissed her off, so I was sticking with it.

“Sorry, Spirit, for dropping by unannounced. You’ve been out for a while and I knew where you lived, so I thought I’d come by and check on you. No pun intended.”

She glanced up at me with soft hazel eyes and taut brows. Her hair was pulled up, but those bangs that fell around her face were out and strands of hair were escaping her twisted knot. Even though she looked nothing like that hotness I saw in that pink dress, or that black dress she showed up at my house in, with her celestial nose and seamlessly curved flushed lips. . .She was gorgeous. For a brief second, I had to remind myself to inhale. Then I had to remind myself she was going to kill me. Then I reminded myself I was staring. I cleared my throat and forced myself to look away.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

I looked past her, into her spot. I gave a once-over to her light purple walls, bookshelves, television stand, the matching couches and an area rug that matched the color of her walls. Her spot was empty. It didn’t look like she had company or ever had company. My eyes fell back on her. “No, I see you’re fine. I’ll see you in class when you come back. Bye, Spirit.” I watched her mouth slowly fall open as I turned to walk away.

I was able to make it to the last tread of her stairs before my phone received a text.

Spirit: Would you prefer to go OUT for coffee?

Got her. I smiled at her text.

Me: Would YOU prefer to go out for coffee?

Spirit: Wait.

Me: For you?

Spirit: Unless you don’t want to.

Me: I’m standing outside of the main door.

 Val

I built up the courage to climb in the passenger’s seat of Kyle’s truck, strapped on my seatbelt, breathed, and then relaxed. I had changed out of my glasses and baggy clothes into some fitted sweats, a shirt that fit, and brushed my hair into a neater bun.

“So . . . coffee?” He started the truck, glancing over at me before pulling away from the curb.

“Yes.”

“If you don’t mind the drive, there’s a really nice café that has the best coffee, bistros, lattés, rolls. Do you like rolls? The roll options are large. Like cinnamon rolls, dinner rolls, things like that.”

I nodded, leaning my head back against the headrest. “I won’t mind the drive.”

He was quiet for a while.

I couldn’t think of anything to say to him. I didn’t want to say anything to him. I’d been so far up Kyle’s ass for the last year, being next to him was comfortable. I didn’t want to be comfortable, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I was. It felt right, like . . .I lived to be at his side. It was a hard pill to swallow, accepting this fact, but ever since I’d left the Reynolds’ house, I hadn’t been able to breathe until I walked into my hall and saw Kyle standing at my door.

Kyle breathed heavily, and you would think with the awkward silence he would turn up the radio to drone it out. But I realized I was taking some pretty deep, heavy, relaxing breaths too. Taking in his air, taking in his presence, taking in this relaxation in which I could finally breathe comfortably and not feel confined by my life.

“What?” I finally said. I sat up and straightened to not seem so at ease.

He shook his head, turning down the corners of his mouth. Nothing.

I shrugged. Then I rolled my eyes. “I really hate to have body language be our only means of conversation. Can we talk?”

“Actually, I’m shocked.”

I waited, but he left me hanging. “About what?”

“You invited me for coffee.”

I turned from the window to look at him. “So what?”

He slowly leaned his head back on the headrest, eyes focused on the road. But his lips pursed as a thought crossed his mind. “What did I do to you?”

I swallowed hard. He’d never know how big of an impact that question had on me. I didn’t know the full extent of what he did to have his name come up, and not him alone but his family. And to add insult to injury, I got the assignment. He could’ve been so much more considerate of my feelings and been a goody-two-shoes and have done nothing. Or he could’ve been a complete asshole and made it so people didn’t like him. But I was asking for too much. “Nothing. Sorry I gave you a hard time.”

“No. You can’t answer nothing to this question. I had to have done something to draw so much anger from you.”

I looked out the passenger window, ignoring him. I could sit here and be around him. But I didn’t have to be honest. “No. I had a lot going on. I was taking my anger out on a lot of people.”

“Even your boyfriend?”

Dammit. I forgot I told him I had a boyfriend. I sucked in an even breath to seem like my being an ass to my nonexistent boyfriend was an issue. “Yes,” I said, a little ashamed. “Even him. I’m working my way down the shit list. You’re the last person, so some I’m sorry coffee is my peace offering.”

“He’s comfortable with you going out with me for coffee?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

I wanted to laugh. But my emotions were in so much of a whirl, I wasn’t sure if it would trigger tears or a titter. “Yes, he trusts me. He knows I’m dedicated to him and knows that coffee with another guy is only coffee with another guy.”

“Unless he makes you smile.”

I locked my jaw, resisting the sudden urge to look at him. Unless he makes you smile. “How would that change anything?” I asked, still facing the window.

“Then it’s more than coffee. It’s engaging body language. Your feelings talk. It becomes flirtatious because the thought crosses your mind that I’ve made you smile and you’ll wonder if I noticed and of course I’ve noticed. Then you’ll shy away because the guilt will pinch at your cheeks that you actually gave another guy who is not your boyfriend—who’s a complete stranger, in fact—the opportunity to draw an intimate emotion out of you. Not a laugh, not one of those annoying giggles. But an unpretentious smile, hidden behind your coffee mug. And that horrid attitude you have against me will slowly diminish.”I made a mental note in big bold letters: DO NOT SMILE.

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