3. Chapter 3
TIERNEY
Three hours. Three fucking hours I had been waiting in this bell tower.
It had only taken minutes to get set up this morning. Using the stones as footholds, I’d quickly scaled the side of the tower and tucked myself behind the decorative scrollwork that surrounded the fifty carillon bells, long before the first parishioners arrived for morning mass.
It was a tight squeeze snaking my body through the wrought iron bars, but the timeline was even tighter. I would have three minutes between the moment he would appear and the next moment the bells would toll.
Even with ear protection, there was no guarantee I wouldn’t lose my hearing if the bells went off while I was still up here. Take the shot and get the hell outta Dodge .
The money I paid for this dude’s itinerary was worth every penny. Further proof that loyalty meant absolutely nothing in this world.
Day three of his visit to our lovely city and he hadn’t deviated from it for a split second. If he held up for another few minutes, it might just be the easiest money I’d ever earned.
I leaned back, resting my head against the cold stone while I waited him out.
This morning was far too cold for early October, but the memory of the white rose draped elegantly across the lamppost in front of my house three weeks ago had lit a fire inside me strong enough to keep me from complaining about the weather.
“There’s no way that bastard is taking two in a row from me.” I scoffed internally as I eased myself down into position.
There were better perches, taller buildings, more obvious spots to shoot from. Which is exactly why I loved my little hide in the tower. More obvious, meant more likely to get caught. A better perch probably made the security guard’s checklist.
My little limestone church with stained-glass windows under sweeping archways, depicting the six days of creation, looked so innocent and quaint that it felt like a sin to check that pesky three-story bell tower for little old me.
Noticing movement, I looked through the sight. An older lady with fluffy blue hair stopped right in my line of sight, exactly on my mark.
“Come on, lady. Move. It’s not your time yet.” I whispered to myself.
She waved off the young man who offered her his arm and slowly hobbled towards the waiting car, the dark blue SUV shaking as she plopped into the back seat.
The familiar black Hummer pulled up, taking position in front of the door.
“Showtime.” I whispered, a slow smile spreading across my face .
The breeze was gentle enough that I didn’t feel it move against my cheek. Even so, I checked the scrap of fabric I tied atop a flowering bush near the hotel entrance and found it nearly stationary, perfect.
My target stepped into view, the morning sun glinting off his balding head.
I took a deep breath, allowing my entire being to relax into that familiar rhythm; breathe, relax, aim, stop, squeeze.
Another breath, my body going slack on instinct. I adjusted my aim the slightest bit to the right. In... Out... In… out...; the target rising and falling in my sight.
As he stepped onto the mark, I held my breath, my target falling into perfect alignment as I eased the trigger back.
I rolled, pushing myself into a standing position quickly, taking my weapon with me. Three snaps and my plucky little Scout was fastened securely beneath my coat. God, I loved my tiny little death machine.
“One shot, one kill. No luck, all skill.” I hummed the familiar refrain to myself as I quickly descended the tight spiral staircase that emptied into the foyer below, my feet tapping out the same staccato rhythm my heart pounded.
Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I took a moment to slow my breathing and steady my heart.
The soft pop of my buttons coming undone was the only sound in the silent stairway.
I slid my strappy sandals into place, smoothed my champagne-colored tea-length bodycon dress and draped my now folded coat over my forearm, stepping into the foyer just as the bells atop the church began chiming their Sunday morning song.
The doors to the sanctuary opened, and parishioners flooded the room as they hurried for the doors .
I slipped in beside a young woman about my age, mimicking her movements and expressions as she stepped outside onto the pale limestone steps that led to the street below.
To my left, the street was in chaos; people screaming and two distinct male voices, both barking orders.
I walked the two and a half blocks in the opposite direction at a brisk pace; hurried, but not running. My throat clenched, capturing my breath as four police cruisers screamed by, lights and sirens blaring.
The chirp of my car unlocking sounded like freedom, as did the purr of the engine as I pressed the start button.
I eased into traffic, disappearing into the crush of cars leaving the surrounding churches, hotels and movie theaters. Just another faceless, nondescript person with no ties to the pande-lerium downtown.
My phone chirped from the seat beside me, followed closely by another. The acknowledgement of the kill and the payment being wired to my bank.
I pulled in a deep breath, the phantom scent of roses already filling my nostrils. A perfect rose. I would give him a perfect rose this time.
Another chirp had me reaching for my phone. There were never more than two.
“1”
I clicked the “1” on my screen. One eye on the phone, one trained on the road ahead. Don’t tell me that fucker survived. I’ll go straight back over there and shoot him again. Fucker.
I let go of a heavy breath as the details came on screen. “PITA,” I grumbled under my breath. I hated these types of clients. The ones who insisted on controlling every facet of the job and micromanaging me. I’d not so affectionately dubbed those assholes “PITA” or “ pains in the ass”.
“Tonight. Nine-thirty. Balder’s Grove. Blades only.” I read off the list of requirements.
My heart rate quickened at the thought of dropping two roses on Rossdale’s doorstep in the morning. The opportunity was too beautiful to pass up.
So yeah, I would deal with the PITA and savor every delicious moment of it.