Who is following Alina and why?
It’s been three weeks of watching Lowell’s every move and it only proceeded to get more boring, so I decided to move up my timeline. Aside from occasionally ordering-in food, nothing in Lowell’s routine has changed. So, armed with the information Mikhail acquired for me, plus everything I learned from tailing this guy – which isn’t much – and the observations I’ve made from monitoring the person tailing me, I’ve decided to strike tonight instead of a week from now. Nothing was going to change between here and then and while in any other case, I wouldn’t speed things up, I know this situation calls for it. With Crimson already strapped to my ankle holster hidden by my denim jeans, I pull my gun from my glove compartment, check it, slip it behind me in the waistband of my pants and pull my black leather jacket over it. I zip up my jacket and adjust my sherpa collar and get out as soon as I see Alec exiting his apartment. It’s busier the closer he gets to the restaurant, so I plan to ma
Once I park in the underground parking lot I curse the fact I’ve left bloody hand marks all over the steering wheel. Goddammit! I really didn’t want stains in my car. I quickly grab a bottle of water and some tissues from the glove compartment and wipe down the steering wheel and clean up my hand. I’ll do a more thorough job later. Now I just have to get this guy into my apartment. I grab my leather gloves and put them on to disguise any more blood that may trickle down my arm. I then get out, get into the elevator, and stop at my floor, but instead of going to my apartment, I rush and knock on my neighbour’s door. I’m aware of who all my neighbours are; leave no stone unturned as they say. After a moment, I hear someone walk to the door, followed by silence, then the sound of chains moving. “Rachel? I didn’t know you were in town. Is everything okay?” Asks fifty-two-year-old John Anderson as he opens the door. Retired construction worker, divorced, two children, both who live out o
It’s 9:03 am when Alec’s eyes begin to open. It takes him a moment to adjust to his surroundings, but then he spots me leaning against the wall opposite the bed and he immediately becomes alert. It’s a struggle to not smirk or laugh. He’s quite amusing. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” He asks uncomfortably, his voice a little croaky from sleep. “Seven minutes.” “That’s creepy,” he states, scrunching his nose. The way he scrunches his nose is kind of cute. “Creepier than trying to kill you?” I ask raising my eyebrow. “I suppose not,” he snorts. “For someone with your rap sheet, you’re awful jumpy,” I taunt him. His jaw clenches and he looks up at the ceiling. Hit a nerve I see. I remain still and silent and after a few minutes this begins to bother him. “Have you decided if you’re going to kill me or not?” He asks in a soft voice. He sounds so… defeated and his face looks lost in thought. “I’m leaning towards not.” His head snaps to mine in shock, “What? Why?” “I
For the most part, I’m completely oblivious to the injury to my arm, but there are moments when I shift a certain way and I’m quickly reminded last night I took a bullet to the shoulder before I block out the thought again. The pain from injuries doesn’t bother me, it’s just how much of an impediment they can be at times. But at least I’m still alive. I’m packing my suitcase in the bedroom when there’s a fast knocking at my door. Can honestly say I don’t get many visitors… okay, I never get visitors. Especially at 10:45 at night. I walk to the living room and grab Crimson from the coffee table. Come on, I’m not going to fire a gun in an apartment building, do I look like I’m trying to draw attention to myself? There’s another urgent knock at the door as I walk over and look through the peephole. I unlock and open the door, “Didn’t I just get rid of you?” “You were right. They tried to kill me,” Alec says, panting. There’s sweat on his brow, and his skin looks clammy and a sickly c
The last couple of days has been tense. Alec and I haven't spoken much, which is fine by me. He spends most of his time watching TV and I work on my laptop or take calls. He did call his mum once to check in on her and see how she's doing and let her know he's okay. He sounds like he cares about her a great deal. I’ve left the apartment a couple times to either handle business or go shopping and have been surprised each time I came back and found him still here. I’m in the middle of making dinner when I hear his deep intake of breath. “Do you like being an assassin?” He asks gently. I turn to look at him, doing my best to keep my face neutral even though I’m in complete surprise. No one has ever asked me that question before. I’m not even sure how to answer. “I don’t see it as something to like or dislike,” I say truthfully. He frowns at my answer. “Do you like killing people?” “Still trying to diagnose me as a psychopath?” I ask with a smirk. He smiles sheepishly, “I’m just try
Alec has officially been staying with me for a week and he’s getting more hostile with each day, though I just ignore his mood swings. He hates being cooped up here. I’ve suggested he go out for a walk but he’s too afraid someone will kill him as soon as he leaves the building. Pretty ironic seeing as how he’s rooming with a killer. The only time he left was to return to his apartment to get his things and that was with me tagging along, acting as an unofficial bodyguard. How did I go from being paid to kill people to being an unpaid bodyguard? It’s too bad assassins aren’t part of a union, at least then I’d have someone to complain to. I’ve oh so graciously given my bedroom to Alec and I’ve been sleeping on the couch. Well, part of me was being generous because he’s far too big for the couch and the other part of me was being strategic. This way if he tried to leave he’d have to pass me to get to the door, so I can monitor him better this way. I’m just getting out of the shower and
I smile wide as I see John’s face, “John, what a nice surprise. Is everything alright?” I ask with genuine concern. “Everything is fine,” he says with a bright smile of his own. “I’ve heard your TV on lately and assumed you were still home. Wanted to come by and check on you. How did everything go with your boyfriend?” He asks wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. I chuckle and open the door wider, “See for yourself,” I say pointing to Alec who is now gaping at me in shock. “Please come in.” John walks in and over to Alec with his hand extended. I shut the door as Alec stands and instinctively shakes John’s hand while throwing me a look of confusion. “John, this is Alec, Alec this is my neighbour John. He’s the one who helped me bring you up here the other night when you were passed out drunk,” I say with a grin. Alec’s head snaps to me so fast I thought it might break. He looks utterly shocked, and I don’t bother to hide my amusement. “You sure did a number on yourself, young man. To
He carries me to the bedroom and gently lays me down against the sheets, pushing my laptop onto the floor. All I can hear is our loud breathing and my blood pumping in my ears. He kisses along my jaw and down my neck, heat shooting through me each time his lips connect with my skin. His next kiss is just below my collarbone, and I can’t stop the shiver than runs through me as my breathing hitches. I can feel him smiling against my skin realising he found my sweet spot. He slowly runs his tongue below my collarbone and I let out another moan. My hands make their way down his toned clothed body to his ass. I slide my hands inside his joggers and briefs and squeeze his bare ass pulling him forward, eager for friction and he gives it to me. He presses himself against my pussy and I can feel just how hard he is and it’s making my pussy throb in anticipation and need. His lips make their way back up my neck and his hands dive under my top. His hands feel so soft against my skin, and I just
Elijah and I walk down the street arm and arm as I shove a very delicious mango mochi in my mouth. I glance to my right to see Elijah looking at me with shock on his face. “What?” I ask with a mouth full of mochi. “Did you just eat the last mochi?” I swallow what’s in my mouth and smile at him, “Yup.” “I can’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head. “Hey, you drank the last of my vegetable juice this morning,” I remind him. “Touché,” he concedes. We continue to walk for another block, just enjoying the nice evening air. The streets aren’t too busy, so it’s relatively quiet. The peaceful stillness gives me time to think and reflect and get lost in my own thoughts. Elijah’s business has been slow this month, as has mine, so we’ve both had more time to spend together just enjoying each other’s company, and we’ve both needed it. Especially since my last job had me hunting someone down all over France which was goddamn exhausting. After Peyton’s ‘accident’, it left Elijah as the so
~FLASHBACK A YEAR AGO~ “Anyone ever tell you what a wonderful couple you two make?” John gushes. “You would be the first, but thank you,” I say with a bright smile. “Honestly feels like we’ve been together forever,” Elijah coos as he kisses my temple again. I’ve lost track of how many times he’s done that now. Before John can throw more compliments at our fake relationship, my phone rings. I reach out and take my phone off the coffee table. “Excuse me, I have to take this,” I say as I get up and make my way to the balcony while Elijah watches on curiously. I close the sliding door behind me and answer the call. “It’s Victor,” I hear the voice greet. “I can’t take on another job at the moment, I’m still working on this one.” “I wish that’s why I was calling,” he says, his voice sounding ominous, yet filled with guilt. “Then why are you calling?” “A letter arrived for you today… it’s from The Tournament,” he says anxiously. I sigh and lean against the rail. Fuck my luck. I glan
As I pull up to Il Segreto in my Jaguar, grab my handcrafted sterling silver clutch purse and open it to once again confirm Crimson is carefully tucked away inside. I close my purse back up, pull down my visor, and examine my makeup. My ivory skin is accentuated by my smokey black eyes with gold glitter pressed into the corner of my eyes. My lips are painted black as midnight with glitter that sparkles brighter than the stars. My black hair, which has grown exceptionally long over the past year, is up in a high, fluffy bun with tendrils coming down framing my face and hiding the faint scar that travels down the left side of my hairline. I gingerly touch the scar with my freshly manicured mirror chrome painted nails and reminisce on just how far I’ve come in this past year. ~FLASHBACK ONE YEAR AGO~ “That’s it. We’re retiring,” I hear my mother whisper yell in Italian. I feel myself waking up, but I can’t seem to open my eyes, but even so, I take comfort in knowing my mother is here,
I jolt awake as I feel something touch my lips. Instinctively I flinch away, thinking it’s Hadleigh back for another round of torture. “It’s just water,” I hear Elijah’s gentle voice say. I force my good eye open, as my other is now swollen shut. Even in this dim light I am able to make out the guilt that is all over his handsome face. I glance at the water bottle and gladly let him help me sip from it. It hurts, but I can feel how dehydrated my body is, so I’m grateful for the water. I can feel the blood drying on my skin making my flesh itch, and I have so many wounds and injuries at this point that my entire body is just raw with pain. “Keeping me alive so she can torture me more?” I ask in a croaky voice. Each movement of my mouth makes the cuts and contusion to my face ache and sting painfully. “I never wanted this, Heart. I didn’t have a choice,” he says, as if pleading for me to forgive him. “There’s always… a choice. I told you that night… all you had to do… was ask for my
~ FLASHBACK A MONTH AGO~ “So since obviously, my answer is yes to being the awesome godmother of your baby boy, how’s about you give me the information I want?” I say getting back on track while I simultaneously monitor Alec and the dickhead following me. Mikhail chuckles, “A deal’s a deal. Get ready for this. Wasn’t easy to find but you came to the right place,” he boasts. I roll my eyes, “Spit it out already.” “So impatient. Anyway, I ran the background on this Alec Lowell, and you were right to be suspicious. I checked all the data of these sites and all the information you found was only input into the system a month ago, prior to that none of the information on Alec Lowell existed,” Mikhail informs me. I shake my head, “Explains the shadow and his apartment. I’m being set up.” “It looks that way, but I was able to run facial recognition software and though it seems like more information on your guy has been erased, they didn’t get all of it, and I’m better,” he praises himse
Everything was peaceful and painless, and I was dreaming about the hikes I used to take with my family. The fact I was dreaming means I’m still alive and if that wasn’t proof enough, then the fact my body is shocked into a state of consciousness as I feel excruciating pain shoot through my neck, would be a dead giveaway. I feel disoriented and yet every pain receptor in my body feels like it’s been amped up to a thousand, so I can’t stop the scream that escapes me. I feel something sharp in my neck and the warmth of my own blood gliding down my skin. I try to move but I instantly realise my arms and legs are bound. What hell have I woken up to now? “Got it!” I hear a man’s voice declare. He sounds American “Good, now destroy it so no one can use it to track her and find her here,” says a woman’s voice… a familiar woman’s voice at that. I hear the sounds of feet shuffling against concrete and a door that needs some oil, opening and closing. There’s an echo when the door shuts indic
Laying on the cot in the Red Room, I hold myself in the foetal position as agonising pain rips through my abdomen. I managed to stop throwing up and shitting my organs out long enough for them to bring me here and to add insult to injury, the nerve block in my feet has worn off, so right now, all I have is pain. My insides feel like they’re constricted and on fire, my hands are throbbing painfully as I clench them into fists to fight off the pain, and my feet feel like they’re on fire. I can feel the sweat soaking my hair and clothes and my breathing becoming more laboured by the minute. I bet Hexton was so proud of himself for putting me in here, thinking it would fuck with my head, but I barely even notice this stupid fucking Red Room because I’m distracted by pain. I’m probably going to die in this place. At this point it seems inevitable and yet I’m just not ready to give up. My parents survived hell just like this so they could come home to me, if I just give up, then they’ll be
An answer to my question is given when another man enters my room, this time pushing the most compact, futuristic electric chair I’ve ever seen. It’s really just a small seat on top of big tyres, there’s not much to it, and nowhere near as bulky or cumbersome as the kind you see the elderly use. It has a joystick control, black leather lining and white exterior. I glare at the contraption with clear disdain. I’m reduced to an electric wheelchair because they won’t just let me go. Can’t walk or do shit, but still expected to make an appearance. I’ll be a sitting duck. Before the doctor administers the nerve block, he changes the bandages on my hands for a thinner, skin-coloured bandage, then the women help me into a one-shoulder floor-length lilac glittering sequined gown with a sweetheart bust and a slit up to my hip on my left side. It’s stunning and hugs my body perfectly. My hair is styled in a large intricate updo that appears full and voluminous while also being sleek. My nails m
I feel myself start to wake up, but I can’t seem to open my eyes. The more alert my senses become the more aware I am of the pain and heaviness radiating through my body. I feel like I was thrown off a cliff and smashed against jagged rocks over and over and over again, but that’s just my body. My feet are another story. Tears prick my shut eyes as the excruciating sensation of raw nerve endings being exposed hits me and I want to scream. The only thing stopping me is how weak I feel. I force my eyes open and thankfully am met by a dim light at the far end of the room. I can hear the sound of a heart monitor beeping its infuriating rhythm, but one that reminds me I’m alive. I see several IV bags hung up, and as I attempt to glance down I notice the oxygen mask on my face. My body is wrapped up tight in shiny silver heat sheets and blankets like a little human burrito. Everything except my feet. My feet are suspended in harnesses, covered in some kind of cream. Even from here, I can s