Chapter 0002

BELLA

“You could’ve told him to shove that empty file up his fat ass,” Harley said, gulping her fifth tequila shot.

If I hadn’t known her better, I would've been surprised. Harley’s limit, which an average person called drunk, was only getting started, whereas I was on my fourth and my head was already hulking with the beats.

“I seriously don’t want to talk about it on my night off. God forbid, we don’t get many of these.”

“You’re right.” She shrugged. “Ron’s a dick. He keeps handing extension contracts to us because he’s too much of a slacker to go recruiting himself. At least you’re lucky this is your last mission. I still have one and a half years for my contract to fucking end.”

“My last mission was supposed to be the end of my agent days,” I said, slouching in my seat at the bar.

“What made you agree to this?” she asked. “Coming to think of it, you’ve never accepted a mission remotely close to the Mafia world.”

“With good reason.” The reason I would rather die with than tell anyone.

“I have no intention of prying.” I straightened as she leaned close. “How did he get you to agree? From what I know, you’re the most stubborn one of all of us.”

“Well,” I regarded what to tell her since I didn’t know the answer either, “he said it’s a small mission. No violence is needed. I just need to gather some of his deets and get out.”

“That’s a first.” She chuckled. “So, no busting the assassin or a politician.”

“Nope.”

“Cheers to that then.”

We clinked our glasses and chugged down another round of shots. I looked around the bar, the dance floor buzzing with youngsters, grooving to the loud music.

“This place is cramming. Half of them are teenagers,” I said, inspecting the dance floor and the VIP areas upstairs.

“Yeah. This bar opened up last month and there aren’t many strict bouncers out there, as you saw, which makes entry pretty easy.”

“Right.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you never went to bars with fake IDs.”

I clicked my tongue. “At their age, I was going through the hardest recruitment process and training of my life.”

After two years of training and six years of job since the age of eighteen, I could never get enough of it. It took away a lot of things I wanted in life, but I had nothing to regret. I had nothing to lose.

The bartender came around with a fresh round of shots and a sickly grin glued to his lips. “For you ladies, from that gentleman over by the corner.”

We twisted our heads in the direction the bartender pointed, only to notice a tall man a few seats away from us with dirty blond hair tied in a topknot and a heavily trimmed beard covering his jaw. The silver ring on his lower lip shone from the distance.

“I don’t think we should—” Before I could even finish, Harley had already emptied two out of four shots. “Harley, don’t. What if they’re spiked?”

“You say this every time a hot guy offers you a drink. It’s no surprise you haven’t had a dick in quite a while.” She giggled at her own words and, leaning in, she asked, “Why are you so sceptical?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Hah!” she groaned.

I had avoided attachments because of who I was. A relationship needed time, effort, and honesty, all of which I couldn’t invest in as long as I had this job. I couldn’t lie to those I held dear.

Harley slid a glass to me. “Come on, what could go wrong? Just get it out of your system, will you?” Without overthinking, I took the glass and, with one gulp, I drank it down. “I’m going to dance. Wanna join?” she cooed, twirling around on her feet.

I shook my head and watched her groove her way to the dance floor. She deserved to have fun, even though mine was out of the question. I had known Harley since she joined our agency five years ago. She had always been a devoted worker, much like me.

The passion for this had to be in our veins—the power of seeing brutality, fighting back, and getting the job done. No matter what. Harley was shaky at first, but that was just a phase—one I’d gone through as well.

“Hi,” a hoarse voice said, not moments after Harley walked away. It was the same man who had ordered the drinks for us. He smirked. “Name’s James. Would you like to dance?”

“Um, I think I’ll pass.” I looked away, hoping he would get the hint.

His face puckered. “Are you waitin’ for someone here?” I tilted my head. “Oh, c’mon! It’s just a dance. Unless you haven’t got the feet.”

I looked at the dance floor and then back at him, my instincts questioning what Harley had said: what could go wrong? I ignored people like him because I was awful at separating my personal and professional life.

I shrugged, taking his hand. I needed to let loose.

He led me to the dance floor, wrapped his hands around my waist and swayed with me to the drumming beats. I could see Harley’s grin from afar while dancing between a man and a woman. God, she was wild when she had to be.

I tried to ignore my throbbing head all the while. The music was getting louder with each passing minute and the beats more abrupt. The ache in my head became unbearable with it. I couldn’t take the loud noise, couldn’t balance myself, let alone dance. My vision blurred.

I looked at James. His smirk didn’t leave as he asked if I was okay. Leaving him on the dance floor, I dashed to the long, dimmed hallway that led toward the washrooms. What I felt wasn’t because of the drinks. I was sure of it.

The musty smell that lingered on the walls of the washroom made me sicker. On top of it, my mouth tasted like smoke and tar, a horrible mixture. I splashed cold water on my face and frowned at my reflection in the mirror.

The door opened and James walked in, his brows pressed together. Maybe all those past allegations about our drinks being spiked hadn’t been true. But today, I was right. I glared at him, knowing his intentions by the look on his face.

“Are you blind? It’s for women,” I bit out, holding my head high.

He sniggered. “Are you sick? D’you feel dizzy, or perhaps antsy?”

Dabbing my face with a tissue, I shook my head. “You think I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here? Fuck off!”

I walked past him. Before I could reach for the door, he grabbed my arm and twirled me around to face him. I was more than willing to rub that smug smile off of his face.

“Where are you going? I thought we could have some—”

I twisted his hand and pressed my thumb right over his radial nerve between his arm—perfect to inflict pain on morons like him. He grunted and his eyes widened, both with pain and surprise.

“Some?” He couldn’t speak. “What? Don’t tell me you took me for a fragile woman.” I pushed him back. “Touch me again and I’ll break your arm like a fucking twig.”

“You bitch!” I heard him say, his voice a mere whimper.

I walked out of the bathroom, trying my best to hold it together, but whatever was mixed in that drink was working its effect on my body.

A forceful grip on my shoulder yanked me back. Oh, his audacity! My back crashed into the wall behind me and I winced. My entire body hurt like needles poking my skin.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetie? I’ll take you to a place you’ll never be able to leave, even if you begged.”

“You don’t know who I am.” I lifted my leg and connected my kneecap to his groin. He squealed in pain, but this time, his grip didn’t loosen. “Are you going to let me go, or do you need more of that dose?”

He didn’t look happy about it, his brows bent together in fury. My feet were wobbly. If he struck me this time, I could do nothing. There was a knot in my stomach that urged me to curl into a ball.

Despite the muffled sounds of the beats, thudding footsteps reached my ears. Twisting my head to the figure walking toward us, I sighed with relief. But wait; what if this man was with James?

“What the fuck are you trying to do here?” the man yelled.

I covered my mouth with a nauseating feeling rising in my throat. Jerking James’s hand off of me, I shifted away and rubbed my chest with my hands.

“Get the fuck out of here,” James said.

“I’ll teach you how to get the fuck out of here,” the man said, grabbing James up by his collar and giving him a forceful jolt.

As heroic as I found this man to be, I was more focused on the sour taste in my mouth.

I turned in their direction. Through the half-blurred vision, I saw James’s eyes widen in fear as if he had seen a ghost, which made me wonder: who the hell is this man? As soon as the man loosened his grip on his collar, he sprinted without wasting a single second.

“They take too much time to understand simple human language,” the man scoffed.

“Don’t let him run,” I got out. “Call the police.”

Given James’s audacity, he would do this again. His next victim might not be as lucky as me.

“That moron is about to meet the devil outside.” He rubbed my back with his hand, sending warm sensations down my spine, and muttered, “He must’ve slipped roofies into your drink.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I straightened to thank him, but before I could manage a single word, with a gagging noise, I puked.

Right on his polished, clearly expensive shoes.

What a charming way to thank someone.