Chapter 5
Ethan
A sigh slips from my lips as I take another sip of my whiskey, leaning one elbow against the bar as I listen to the story of one of my colleagues.
"...and I'm telling you, the guy didn't even see it coming." His voice grates on my nerves. I give him a nod and an acknowledging grunt, pretending to listen, but my focus is elsewhere. I spotted my target minutes ago, disappearing towards the VIP rooms, right into the lion's den. I was wondering when he would show up, but I had hoped it would take a little longer as I would have liked to spend some more time with Harlee.
On the subject of her. My attention falls on the glass of Champagne on the counter. The bubbles have already lost their fizz. She is waiting for me, probably wondering where I am. Worst case, she might think I dumped her. I let my eyes wander over the crowd again, slower this time, looking for a flash of red and blonde hair. But she's nowhere to be found. My stomach churns with irritation and I take a deep breath. The night is young, I can still spend some time with her before I take out my target.
I take another sip of my whiskey, the alcohol burning as it slides down my throat, and I let out a another sigh, turning my attention back to my conversation partner.
"Hey, Lyle," I interrupt his chatter. "Sorry, man, but I really got to go." I nod towards the glass of champagne on the bar.
"Oh, you have someone waiting for you, huh? Don't let me keep you." A teasing grin spreads across his face.
With the promise of being able to leave, I ask the bartender for another glass of champagne, which he sets down in front of me. Then I bring my free hand down to Lyle's back with a firm slap. "Try not to bore anyone else to death for the rest of the night," I mutter, earning a laugh from him.
"You're such a crank," he teases. "Enjoy your night, Ethan."
"You too," I say, grabbing the new glass, bidding farewell and walking in the direction where I left Harlee.
The closer I get to my destination, the clearer the new situation becomes. Great. She is gone. My fist clenches around the champagne flute, the thin glass dangerously close to shattering under the pressure. I let out a slow breath, trying to suppress the anger bubbling up inside me. I finally had her. After months of circling her in the dark, waiting for the right moment, I'd finally gotten close. And now? I let her get away.
I turn, scanning the room for any sign of her in the sea of meaningless faces. I twist my wrist and check my watch, the second hand ticking loudly in my mind. Maybe she just went to the bathroom, I tell myself, forcing myself to stay where I am. I lean back against the wall and look down at the champagne glass in my hand.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and repeatedly check the time, until another ten minutes have passed. My eyes dart to the hallway leading to the restrooms. I don't think she's there. Where the hell did she go? Was I too aggressive? No, I couldn't have misread the signs. She pushed back the same way. Although surprised by my revelation that I know her secret, she seemed more intrigued than put off.
I guess I’ll deal with my target first, and then I’ll track her down. If she’s not here, I’ll wait for her at her apartment and make sure she never pulls a stunt like this on me again.
I hand the two glasses to a waiter who maneuvers through the crowd. Then I pull my ticket from the pocket of my suit jacket and approach the security guards standing by the VIP back rooms, showing them my ticket. Without further questions, they let me through.
I pull my phone out of my pants pocket, open the tracker app, and check the exact location of my target. Glancing down the hallway leading to where he is, I find a staircase to the basement where another employee is standing behind a desk. After a quick chat with the man, I learn that my target has disappeared into one of the private rooms with only a woman , meaning I have nothing to worry about. Kick her out and get the job done. Easy enough.
I walk down the stairs into the dimly lit hallway, dodging every person that comes my way, and as soon as I reach the door with the number twelve on it, I check my phone again. The red dot is now right in front of me. I slip the phone back into my pants and reach for the handle, but it doesn't move.
Pulling a small tool kit from the inside pocket of my jacket, I squat down and get to work. After a few quick turns, the old lock pops open with a faint click. Rising to my feet, I shove the tools back into my pocket and pull my gun from the holster concealed beneath my jacket. With the weapon in my hand, I reach for the handle again and carefully push the door open, revealing the room and the people inside.
I take a step inside and my eyes widen at the scene unfolding in front of me. The same woman who just disappeared on me is straddling the unconscious man I am supposed to kill, lying on the decorative antique sofa, and is in the process of tying his arm to one of the legs. On the small coffee table next to them lies a hunting knife and what looks like a roll-up bottle. So my suspicion was right. My heart leaps at the sight. Not only does she look absolutely stunning on top of a man, although I would prefer her to be on top me, but to witness her murderous nature, which I've only ever admired from afar, right in front of me is a sight to behold and one I want to engrave in my brain.
At the sound of the door behind me falling into the lock, her head whips in my direction, her eyes meet mine across the room, and her hands fly up in surrender the second she catches sight of my gun aimed at her.
"It's not what it looks like," she says, keeping her hands up as she climbs off the unconscious man while I keep aiming at her.
"Then what is this, beautiful?" I bark, trying to hide my fascination with irritation as I take a step forward. "Some fucked up sex thing?" I snort and take another step forward as she takes one back, hands still raised, circling the coffee table away from the sofa.
"Oh God, no, nothing sexual," she says in a voice that almost sounds offended.
"Good, because I should let you know that I don't like to share."
"Aw, you already put a claim on me?"
"For tonight? Yes, you're mine."
"Am I really? Maybe you bored me, so I ran away."
"I doubt it." I nod in the man's direction. "So I was right, you're out of colors, it seems." I cock an eyebrow and a grin spreads across my lips as her eyes widen.
"This is none of your business," she snaps.
"It is when my target is involved."
"Wait, you’re here to kill him?" she asks, raising her brows and lowering her hands.
"Yes. I would greatly appreciate it if you would leave the room now so that I can do my job."
"No."
"What?"
"I'm the one who's going to kill him and you're not going to stop me."
"Too bad, because that's not going to happen."
"I don't care. I need it for the colo— hey!" she bursts out as something leaps out of the corner of my eye and dashes past me toward the door, grabs the handle, flings it open, and takes off running.
"Fuck." I grit my teeth and spin on my heels, chasing after the man. The clicking of heels follows as Harlee takes after us as well.
All his pleas to the passersby to help him fall on deaf ears as they avoid him. No one will help him no matter how much he begs. This is the fun part of the night. You get to kill in the open, in front of everyone's eyes. The exception is the main event hall. But only the killers know that. Not the regular attendees. Each job was previously approved by the Bratva themselves, and like every year, we get a rule book so they can keep track of how many deaths are happening tonight and regulate what happens to some degree. And a little hunting? Is not prohibited. If anything, welcome, as it serves as entertainment for the unhinged.
My soles thunder against the marble as I climb the stairs when I'm suddenly stopped by a weight crashing into my back, arms flying around my neck, causing me to topple forward, barely catching myself on my hands to keep myself from falling.
"Got you, bastard!" she snarls, hissing the S in my ear as her forearm crushes my Adam's apple, forcing it back into my throat. I choke and gasp for air, my vision quickly blurring as I try to shake her off, but she’s already letting go, sliding off me and continuing to run, leaving me behind.
Goddamn it, she is fast, and that is on heels. Pushing forward, I trail behind her as she takes another flight of stairs that, instead of leading to the event hall, lead to the balconies overlooking it. At the top of the stairs, I throw my arms around her waist. "Stay out of my way," I growl in her ear. "Or I'll kill you too." I shove her aside.
"In your dreams," she cries.
"Baby, in my dreams you are on your knees sucking my cock like a good slut."
"Great," she replies with a smirk, "let me turn that dream into a nightmare and bite it off," she exclaims, pushing herself back to her feet and continuing to chase after our target. I immediately go after her, shoving her out of the way, but come to a halt at a corner leading into a hallway with no other exits. The sound of hurried footsteps catches up with me and I grit my teeth. I don't even have to turn around to know who it is when I suddenly stagger forward as a weight slams into my back again.
"Where the hell is he?" she asks, stepping beside me.
"I have no fucking idea," I pant, my eyes darting around the hallway as I continue down it with slow steps.
"You lost him," she points out, her fist slamming into my shoulder.
"You lost sight of him too, not just me." I roll my eyes.
"You were right behind him." She shoves past me, and on instinct, I grab her arm, squeezing the slender limb between my fingers as I whip her around and slam her against the wall, caging her.
"You should have stayed out of my way, then none of this would have happened," I warn her, to which she snorts, tearing at her arm.
"He is mine! Perhaps you should have stayed out of my way, then he would be dead already and not running like a spooked deer."
My lips quirk and I tilt my head. "You think you're faster than me, Harlee?"
"I know I am," she purrs. "After all, I’m the one that already had him." Her lips part in a teasing grin, her head tilting back to meet my eyes.
"Careful," I warn, but my voice has lost its edge, softening as I meet her gaze. "You make it sound like a competition."
"Isn't it?" she croons, shifting a little closer, the warmth of her body brushing against mine. "And I thought you might like a little competition."
"Maybe you need to learn your place," I say, my voice dropping as I take another step, close enough now to feel the heat increasing between us. "You're playing with fire, Harlee. And I don't like being challenged."
She doesn’t back down, her lips remaining stretched into a smirk. "I love a man with a big ego— makes it so much more fun to put him in his place ."
"Put me in my place, huh?" I say, my voice tinged with a slight threat. "Are you sure you want to risk that?" I raise my free hand and brush back a loose strand of her hair, letting my hand linger against her cheek. "You better watch out, beautiful. Keep pushing, and I’ll put you in your place and it'll be right where you belong."
She laughs softly with a mocking undertone, a sound that wraps around me and she tilts her chin up, daring me. "You think you know where I belong?"
My hand drops to her waist, pulling her flush against me, my body blocking any chance of escape. "I think you need someone to show you."
Her breath catches, just for a second, and I can see her pulse flickering at her throat, her eyes fixed on mine. "Big talk for a man who almost lost to a woman," she whispers, but her voice wavers slightly. "I'd like to see you try."
And that's it. I snap and close the last inch of space between us, my mouth crashing down on hers. She gasps, but it's not surprise— it's arousal. Her hands find my shoulders and pull me closer, her fingers curling into the fabric of my suit jacket as our mouths move against each other in a desperate fight for control. Her body moves against mine as she deepens the kiss, as if she's just as hungry, just as unwilling to give in. She tastes of champagne, of temptation and danger, her breath hot against my skin, her hands slipping to the back of my neck, pulling me in until I'm dizzy.