7. Cassius
seven
It’s taken a few days to find her, but there she is sitting at an outdoor table, her light purple hair glistening in the afternoon sun. It’s short, cropped at her chin with straight bangs and large sunglasses sit on her small nose. The disguise is impressive. And I’m thrown by how gorgeous she is. Even like this, even when she’s someone else. She’s deadly and captivating, and I hate her. I hate her for being the thing I crave most. The present I want to unwrap, layer by layer, until all I see is her. Who is she behind the disguises? Behind the blood and the violence? Is she full of demons too?
A waiter approaches her, but Ruby doesn’t turn to look at him. Her gaze appears to be focused elsewhere. With those large sunglasses, it’s hard to determine exactly what she’s looking at, but I’m willing to bet it’s a target. Her lips move, and she raises her hand, effectively dismissing the waiter.
She’s fascinating and the more I watch her, the more captivated I am. Everything she does is intentional; every slight movement is calculated. A routine. One she’s done over and over for the last fifteen minutes. First, she looks at her phone and scrolls for a moment, then she pulls her lips to the left, always to the left as she turns her head in both directions. Looking for someone who isn’t coming, I’m sure. After she does that she crosses and then uncrosses her legs, flashing her red bottom heels and takes a sip of her drink. Then the routine starts again.
Cars pass in front of me, obscuring my view for seconds at a time. When traffic slows, she’s gliding her finger in circles around the rim of her water glass, like she’s bored. That’s new. She doesn’t get lost in her phone again either, but instead pulls a paperback out of her tote bag. To anyone else, it would appear that she’s reading, but she hasn’t turned a single page. Her focus lies elsewhere. Maybe on the couple a few tables away? The man is young, much younger than the woman he’s dining with. Is it her? Or Him?
They’re arguing, quiet enough that none of the other patrons pay attention, but her eyebrows narrow, and she speaks through gritted teeth like she’s doing that whisper yell thing I’ve seen moms do. Is she his mother? From here, she looks old enough for it to be possible. His lips move and then his head tilts. His cheeks lift in a smile…and nope. Not his mother. That’s not the kind of smile you give your mother. That’s the kind of smile you flash when you want to get laid.
The woman flushes and places a pile of cash on the table. The couple stands to leave, picking up the handful of shopping bags at their feet. Chanel and Tiffany’s for her. Gucci and Burberry for him. Is it her money or his?
It doesn’t matter because Ruby is stone faced now, a lioness preparing to pounce. She throws a handful of bills on the table but doesn’t move from her seat.
I stand to get a better view over the traffic.
The woman walks past her first, the man’s hand guiding her forward. Ruby doesn’t move, guess the woman must not be the mark then. They take one more step, Ruby flicks her wrist, and her glass of water practically throws itself at the man.
She stands, her hand raised to her mouth in shock as the man yells. Ruby grabs the cloth napkin off her table with one hand and holds it out to him apologetically. If I had any doubt that it was her, it dissipates when her other hand slips a red envelope into the Gucci bag.
The couple exits the café through the small gate and continues down the sidewalk. Ruby watches them, a wicked grin spreading across her face. She grabs her tote bag and walks inside the café. I take a deep breath, that smile is going to plant itself in my nightmares and awaken my demons. And when it does, I hope hers are ready to play.
Garrett is the only reason I knew where to find her. I’m not lying when I say he's a motherfucking genius. He created an algorithm that snapped pictures of every Impala in the area from traffic cameras and private security cameras. Then he took those and cross-referenced them with Ruby-like events, and that landed me here, stalking an assassin.
I wait for her to exit through the door and onto the street. But I lack patience, I’m an instant gratification kind of man. My skin crawls with anticipation. Afraid that I’ve lost her, I don’t walk to the crosswalk. Instead, I wait for a break in traffic, so I can cross. The door to the café opens, and I halt at the curb, frozen. A woman exits. It’s not the woman I expected, but it is the same tote bag. Her purple hair has been replaced with a sleek blonde ponytail. One I’d like to wrap around my fist. The sunglasses are gone, replaced by rectangular eyeglasses that frame her small face. She walks quickly down the street, and I force myself to wait until she is a block away before I cross. I don’t have her chameleon abilities, but I’m hoping, like Joe, my baseball cap will be enough.
The city street is soon crowded with suits on their lunch break. Luckily, being six feet tall has its advantages. I spot the blonde ponytail a few yards ahead of me but keep my distance. She walks quickly, weaving between strangers oblivious to the devil in their midst, and it urges me forward. I have never been one for hunting, again I lack patience, but there’s something about hunting Ruby that has me craving a trophy. Albeit not one that hangs on the wall, but maybe one strapped to my bed.
She walks slowly past a window display and then seemingly changes her mind, backpedaling a few steps to the entrance. Tucking myself into a food truck line, I stay out of sight. The door chimes as she enters, the sign above it reads Davis Appliance Repair.
I call Garrett.
“Yo,” he answers. “How was the intel?”
“You know it was good. Tell me about Davis Appliance Repair,” I demand. “And quickly.”
The tapping of keys on the other end of the line fills the silence.
“Bankrupt. Owner is divorced. Nothing too outlandish, but let me run my Ruby tracker on him.”
More tapping.
“What’s your plan?” Garrett asks me.
“Plan?”
“Yeah, you do have a plan, don’t you? To kill her?”
“Don’t have one yet, but I figure I can always just shoot her.”
“That’s not like you.”
“It gets the job done.” I sigh. “Anything on this Davis guy yet?”
“Yeah, he’ll be dead soon if he’s not already. Dude took pictures of his kids. Someone tried to scrub them, but I will bleach the shit out of the dark web.”
I hang up and free myself from the crowd, following in Ruby’s footsteps. The door is locked, and the open sign has been turned to closed. I could break the glass and stop this, but I won’t. This man deserves what’s coming to him. Cupping my hands to block the sun's glare, I peer through the window. Ruby is nowhere to be seen. There are shelves full of parts and a vacant sales counter. It’s empty. Eerily empty. And much quieter than one would expect. It’s certainly quieter than when I kill someone. Past the sales counter, there’s a door that must be a back entrance or emergency exit. I take off, weaving through the handful of people on the sidewalk and turn down the narrow side alley only to come face to face with…
Ruby.
Black ringlets frame her face, bare now of glasses. Her eyes tinted dark with makeup. This was not part of the fucking plan. Not that I had one, but that’s beside the point. I only planned to watch. To observe. But now she’s in front of me close enough to touch and fuck me, I want to touch her. I need to touch her. There’s something about her that sings to me like a siren’s song. Tortured and beautiful.
Her eyes widen for a second and a sinister smile creeps over her face.
Come out to play little demons…
“Cassius.” My name drips like honey from her lips.
“Ruby,” I say, flashing her the smile that’s worked on a hundred women before her. I take a step forward, but she doesn’t retreat. She’s used to being the alpha. The queen. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out because my hand has her by the throat, pushing her against the brick building. Her teeth bite into her bottom lip, her long lashes hood her eyes. I am not falling for this, nope. I should fucking kill her right now and be done with it. No more chasing, no more games. I reach for my gun in the back waistband of my jeans and press the cold steel to her forehead. She sucks in a breath, her tits lifting just slightly. And fucking hell if she doesn’t smell like vanilla with a lingering tinge of iron. An overwhelming need to taste her passes over me.
Just a taste.
Putting the gun back in my waistband, I push my body against hers, my hard length pressed between us.
“You smell like death,” I whisper, my lips grazing her ear.
“Your favorite, I presume,” she croaks out.
I pull back to see her face and remove my hand from her throat. She remains still, her eyes penetrating mine. She cocks her head, curiosity falling over her features.
“Why did you call out my name?” she asks softly. She looks so confused and so innocent that it takes me a few seconds to collect myself.
I place my hands on the wall on either side of her, and her breath quickens.
“I knew you’d enjoy it,” I answer, and watch as a blush creeps into her cheeks. “Tell me Ruby. Did you touch yourself after?”
“Do not flatter yourself.”
“You wanted to. Just like you want me to touch you now.”
Her sharp intake of breath is her only tell and had I not been inches from her lips, I would have never heard it.
Game fucking on.