Chapter Eight
Jamison
––––––––
S he sleeps in the shape of a letter G; her knees to her chest, arms curled around, the fingers of one hand half-bent. The blanket she'd wrapped around herself like a plaster cast was discarded within minutes of her going unconscious. I'd watched her for some time to make sure she was truly asleep.
This woman is a risk.
Not just to my life, a fact I've been struggling with for some time now, but in another less definable way.
I rub my hand over my face to hold back a yawn... and freeze. I can still smell her. I can remember the exact temperature of her body as it went each degree hotter.
All because of me.
Everything I did, she reacted with obvious desire.
She said she's aware I can end her life in a blink, and yet, multiple times, she's gone toe to toe with me... daring me to do it. It would be easy to call her insane, but I know better. Selena isn't simply crazy. She also isn't stupid— she's keenly aware of her predicament with me.
So where does she find the balls to start arguments with me? To push my buttons?
To be on the verge of daring me to show her my rock hard cock.
I shudder with the memory. My lower belly tightens, waking my shaft until it's half erect. If she'd asked, would I have shown her? Can I risk giving up that level of indifference? If she knew for a moment how much she affects me, surely she'd take advantage.
I can't let that happen. She's hard enough to control as is.
I check my phone; 7:05 a.m.
I'd managed to slip in three hours of sleep after our little face-off. The numbers blinking on my phone drive a stake of anger into my guts. She set up a trap and I fell for it. Tucking my phone away, I stare at hers where I placed it back by her pillow. It's not as if she'll forget what happened, but I have no reason not to return it to her.
Well, alright, I have reasons.
It's better to keep the peace. Selena's ability to call the cops down on me hasn't vanished, but taking her phone won't hinder her. It might even incite her into action.
If your goal was to gain her trust, you've gone a long way off that path, I chide myself. Breathing out, I shift away from watching Selena to check the door. The chair I set under the knob is moved back to the kitchen. I quickly peer out the windows, seeing nothing concerning.
Returning to sit on the floor, I reach into my backpack. The black short sleeve shirt and straight-leg faded jeans are as nondescript as what I wore yesterday.
Smoothing my fingers over my shirt in my lap, I glance at Selena again. Unlike me, she's fully clothed where she's lying on the mattress. I'm naked to the elastic band of my underwear that pokes out of the waist of my gray joggers. The way she looked at me last night, she thought I was wearing nothing. I swallow thickly at the memory of her hungry eyes. I should have ignored her look, but I'd chosen to tease her.
She's fun to tease.
Frowning hard, I shake myself, as if that will chase the filthy thoughts away.
This isn't a game. I need to be on my utmost professional behavior... no matter how tempting the ulterior is.
"Morning."
I jerk around, finding Selena watching me from the bed. She's propped up on one elbow, cheek in hand, her smile wider than normal. Her pink hair is tangled around her in thick waves. If I reach out, I can smooth them with my fingers. "Good morning," I reply.
Selena covers her mouth to muffle a yawn as she sits up. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Of course."
"Of course," she mocks. "I don't know, maybe you watched me all night."
She's not far off the mark. "There's a lot of work to do today. Get cleaned up so we can begin."
Any leftover sleep vanishes from her eager face. "Oh, we're going to the bank."
"Yes, but that's not all we're doing."
She perks up. "Are we hunting Caruso?"
"Slow down," I chuckle, "there's a process to everything."
Selena throws the blankets out of the way, digging in her nearby dresser for clean clothing. I watch from the corner of my eye... recalling that same dresser spilling her panties and bras all over the floor yesterday as she panicked in the towel that barely covered her ass.
I quickly pull my shirt over my head. I yank my joggers off, then my jeans on next, standing to finish the job. When I turn back, fingers pinching the brass button, I catch Selena peeking. She turns away hurriedly, clearly not wanting me to notice. Her curiosity makes my animal urges worse. It would be better if she found me repulsive. Fuck.
"I'll change in the bathroom," she mumbles, rushing behind the door with her arms full of clothing. The lock clicks. I shake my head, ruffling my hair in frustration. The walls hide her from me, but they aren't enough to keep me from thinking about her stripping herself bare. If I strain, I can hear the sound of her footsteps, feel the vibration of her moving in the room.
My abilities have always been a blessing for my chosen career.
Today, they are torturing me.
"Okay," she says, coming back into view. "I'm ready. Let's get to it." Selena has slipped on a red tank-top that hugs her chest and ribs, highlighting a waist that's begging to be gripped by all ten of my fingers. Her shirt vanishes into her high-waisted tan skirt that swishes loosely around her knees. "The bank I use isn't far."
Scooping up my backpack I grab my jacket from where I left it on her kitchen chair. "First, we'll get breakfast."
"Okay!"
I cast a grin at her. "Not complaining about that part of the plan?"
She rubs a hand over her stomach. "If you're buying. I'm about to be broke."
"About to be," I repeat, looking around her apartment.
"Don't judge me."
"I'm mostly confused," I say, rubbing at my jaw. "You have enough money stocked away to pay my fee, but you live like this."
"Like what? Like I have a slumlord?" Selena snatches her phone from her pillow, then a purple purse with a thin strap from the top of her dresser. She fiddles inside of it; I hear keys jingle. "I assume you're driving us."
"Better to not leave my car here, I think."
Shouldering her purse she stalks past me to the door, yanking it open so quick the incoming air tosses her hair around. "If I get a parking ticket from street sweeping, you're responsible."
I step through into the hallway; she locks the door with her keys, then motions for me to lead the way. I'd rather she was in front of me—to keep an eye on her, not to stare at her perfect ass—but I don't argue.
The green-gray metal gate rises up at the end of the hallway. I yank the latch, the hinges screaming as the heavy portal opens wide for me. Together we walk beneath the overhang.
Early morning sunlight drives itself into my eyes. I shield my face, brushing aside the thick leaves of the areca palms that fringe the walkway. Some of the larger trees have threaded their roots under the sidewalk, lifting and cracking the pavement.
Selena navigates the uneven terrain without looking down. She's walked this way many times. When we reach my car I open the passenger door for her. "Oh, how kind," she sings, dropping into the seat. "You think I can't shoot guns or open doors."
"I was just being nice," I sigh, getting into the front seat. The trees along the road have shed blossoms on my window and roof overnight. I turn on my wipers to knock them away. "Is there a place around here you like to eat?"
"There's Egg Biscuit, it's actually right in the same plaza as the bank."
Turning my key, I rev the engine, guiding my car down the quiet street. At an hour like this on a Sunday, the traffic should be dead. The less eyes the better. "Just tell me where to go."
Selena guides me without a hiccup. We turn a corner onto a dented street flanked with tall apartment complexes and a streetlight painted in graffiti. The plaza on the right with its faded signs has a nail salon, the bank she mentioned, and at the end is a white building with a green front door. The Egg Biscuit sign is plastered above in red letters; it's the only building in the plaza that doesn't look like it's a hundred years old.
"That's the place," she says, pointing.
"I can read," I assure her.
"Interesting," she gives me a coy smile. "Then, what did you read on my phone last night?"
"Nothing. I couldn't get into it." Parking the car, I cut the engine. "Are you going to make this a thing?"
"Sorry, is spying on me a thing?"
"If I say I'm sorry, will it help?"
Selena levels a disgusted look at me across the car. "No, because I wouldn't believe you."
"Fair enough." Hopping out of the car I take long strides towards Egg Biscuit. Selena shouts as she hurries to follow. I'm inside the entrance before she catches up. I sense her arch her arm back, waiting for her to whack me in the shoulder. I don't dodge when she makes impact.
"You're such an ass," she scolds me.
"You said an apology wouldn't help." Shrugging, I meet eyes with the host. The young woman with straight black hair and a maroon headband heads our way. She's beaming politely. The way she greets every guest, I assume.
She flashes a pair of menus. "Hi there! I'm Jenny! Is a booth or table better?"
"Booth," I say, just as Selena snaps "Table."
Jenny blinks, chewing her perfectly placed pink lip stain. "Um..."
"Booth," I repeat myself firmly. "The most private one you have."
Our host gives me a sly grin, then a little cock of her shoulder. "Gotcha. This way."
"Good job," Selena grumbles at my elbow, "now she thinks we're dating."
A funny little flash of heat whips through my body. "I don't want people listening to our conversation," I explain in a whisper.
Selena makes a point of looking around the almost empty cafe. The interior is about triple the size of her apartment. There's a man sipping coffee by one of the windows, while a mother with a toddler—who won't sit still—takes up another booth. "I think we'll be fine."
"Here you go," Jenny says, setting the menus on the shiny table in the furthest corner from the door. The booth is a deep blue, matching the stripe along the wall at eye level. The entire cafe has a very soothing paint scheme. The kind of place you'd go for a coffee with friends...
Not to discuss a murder for hire contract.
"Can I get you some drinks?" Jenny asks after we sit.
"Coffee," I say.
Selena scans the menu with a thoughtful frown. "Orange juice, thanks."
Once Jenny is out of earshot, I lean towards Selena with my voice low. "Let's talk about your situation."
"My what?" she chuckles with an eyebrow lifting.
"A lot happened yesterday," I continue, keeping my tone serious, "I don't know if you processed everything completely."
"Uh, okay," she snorts with a wry grin. "Thanks for the concern, Doctor."
"You were pressured into making some decisions you maybe haven't thought through. All the possible risks, the downfalls. Things that should be weighed properly without adrenaline and emotion running high."
She lowers the menu onto the table. "Is this a fucking intervention?"
"Be open minded."
"No, no. Just stop a second," she says, stamping her fingertip on the vinyl. "I want to do this!"
I look past her ear at Jenny approaching with our drinks. Selena is glowering at me, but when I say, "Relax a moment," she sits back in the booth and breathes.
"Here you go," Jenny chirps, setting down my coffee then Selena's OJ. "Ready to order?"
"Not yet," I say with a gentle smile. "One more minute."
She waves her hand understandingly as she wanders away to check on the man in the other corner. Before she gets far, she gasps. "Oh, wow, that's awful!"
The television on the wall is playing without sound, but the subtitles are on. A man with umber skin and white hair is gesturing at a hotel as he talks. "Body found at Red Roof Inn called a homicide. Police say the victim was Sanford Grecko, a 25 year old local who was working at the convention the same day he was believed to be killed..."
Selena makes a small noise; she's looking at the screen with me. "See how messy this can get?" I say to her quietly. "The man you're looking for is tied to a murder investigation that you're already tangled up in. Come to your senses and let me handle everything while you hide somewhere safe."
"No," she says quickly.
I narrow my eyes on Selena again. "I'm doing you a huge favor by giving you a chance to keep your hands from getting dirty. Once you pay me, there's no chance to amend the agreement."
"That's why we came here before the bank. You didn't take me here to feed me, you're giving me a way to back out. You want me to let you kill him."
"Exactly."
"Well, too bad. I don't accept your generous offer."
Gripping my coffee, I inhale the hot steam, gathering myself. "You're extremely stubborn."
"Call it a talent."
"You're serious, then."
"Very much so."
I hesitate, then talk slower... quieter. "What if I gave you the opportunity to walk away, promising to never end your life?"
"You're still considering that?" she winces.
"I have to. It's how I protect myself. Think about it, Selena." She looks like she actually is, and I inch forward, encouraged. "You could leave and be free."
Selena turns her nose down when I say free . "I'll never be free until the people who hurt Valoria pay for what they did. We're stuck together, and if you don't want me mucking things up, you'll have to teach me how to be a good hit man like you." She holds up her orange juice, and before I can act, she taps it on my mug. "Cheers to our partnership."
I pinch the bridge of my nose with a groan. "We aren't partners."
"Hurry and look at the menu, I'm starving, and when I'm hungry, I'm prone to do dumb stuff like talk too loudly about murder plots."
I send her the most withering glare I can over my coffee mug. The drink burns my tongue, bitter and painful and exactly what I need right now. How can she be so set on this? The TV has moved on to talking about a different homicide. Most of the news in Los Angeles can be summed up as fires or murders.
I read the subtitles, brooding, before making sure Selena is watching me. "You know I mean it," I say seriously. "Walk out, forget the contract, don't look back. You'd be safe from me."
"You trust me not to turn you into the cops?" she asks, the tilt of her lips showing her doubt.
"I didn't say that."
"But you said—"
"I won't hunt you down. But if you betray me, you'll regret it."
"What does that mean?" she laughs nervously. "You won't kill me, you'd send someone else to do it?"
My shrug is brief and casual. "It's the best I can offer. You wouldn't see it coming, to be clear. That should be some comfort."
Selena turns sickly pale. "Your best offer is becoming my stalker."
"Yes."
"How long?"
"What?"
"How long would you stalk me?" she asks, the dip of her frown getting deeper.
My answer comes after a single breath. "Maybe forever."
Jenny dances up beside us with a toothy grin. "Alrighty! What are we getting?"
Tracing my finger over my menu, I nod decisively. "The steak and eggs look good. Cooked bloody rare, please."
"You got it! And for you, sweetie?" she prods Selena.
She stares across at me, still pale, still horrified.
I give her a tiny smile. "Hurry and order. You said you were starving. Unless something changed?"
The tension between us grows. This is her chance—we both know it. My big problem will be explaining to Tusk that Selena isn't a risk to our business, or us. But I can convince him. I'm sure I can.
She'll keep her hands clean. I'll spend my years haunting her from the shadows.
She just has to agree to walk away.
It's easy.
It's safe.
It's fucking smart.
Her smile is sweeter than the smell of syrup that surrounds us. Over her head the TV is showing the red and blue flashing lights of cop cars. "Nothing's changed. I'm as hungry as I've ever been."