Chapter 7
KIARA
Waking up in Barcelona is nothing short of a dream. Rolling out of bed after midday when I’m supposed to be on a job, now that’s a rookie error.
“Ahhh fuck,” I mutter to myself, throwing the blanket back and trudging over to the hotel window to look out at the spectacular Mediterranean coastline, and just like when I rolled in here late last night, the view takes my breath away.
It’s a beautiful day. The sun is glistening off the vast water, and as I look down at the beach below, I find the sand swarming with tourists and sunbathers, chilling in their swimwear, sipping on drinks beneath their oversized hats and umbrellas.
Now that right there is the life.
If I ever chose to hang up my weapons and have a life away from the city, this is where I’d be.
Not wanting to miss out on the fun, I get myself ready for my day, dressing in a cute bikini and slathering SPF all over my skin.
If I don’t, I will burn like a peach, and believe me when I say that strapping weapons to your body when you’re rocking third-degree sunburns isn’t fun.
It’s the middle of summer, and while I couldn’t have asked for a better place to spend the next few days, I also don’t know just how much time I have to spend under that blazing sun.
With my laptop under one arm, I head out to the beach, making sure to snap a few pictures of the stunning architecture and breathtaking shoreline.
My followers will assume that I’ve gone straight from the South of France to Barcelona during my European beach vacation.
The timing of this trip is truly spectacular.
Making my way down onto the hot sand, I find a private, shaded cabana reserved for the executive hotel guests, and I make myself comfortable on the sunlounge.
My laptop rests on my thighs, and just as I open it up and start logging in to my secure system, a waiter appears at the cabana, three sparkling cocktails sitting high on a tray.
“Miss St. James,” he says in a thick accent as I discreetly turn my laptop away. “My name is Diego, and I will be happy to assist you with any of your needs during your stay. But first, may I interest you in a complimentary cocktail?”
“Diego, you are speaking right to my soul,” I tell him, sitting up a little higher. I mean, just because this is supposed to be a business trip doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in a little pleasure. “What options do you have?”
Diego lowers the tray to give me a better look. “We have a little of everything. Sangrias, mojitos, or strawberry daiquiris. Or if these aren’t doing it for you, I’d be more than happy to whip something together for our most beautiful guest.”
Well, shit. Diego is working for his tip today, and while I know this is just the type of luxury that comes along with booking the executive suite, I can’t help but let his compliments go right to my head.
I could get used to this kind of hospitality.
Raiden could learn a thing or two from Diego, though, truth be told, Raiden is a chronic flirt.
If I actually accepted his advances, I’m sure he would have me in a constant state of delicious ruin.
Fuck. He really would ruin me.
Glancing over my cocktail options, I smile up at Diego. “Now, I don’t intend to be too forward, Diego, but I’m not really the kind of girl who can be locked down by just one option, you know what I mean?”
“Oh yes, you certainly are a cheeky one, Miss St. James,” he says with a wide smile as he places all three cocktails on the small table attached to the sunlounger, picking up exactly what I was putting down. “Shall I keep them coming?”
“Why not? Life is a party after all.”
Diego laughs to himself. “Is there anything else I can help you with? Something to eat? A towel, for if you’d like to take a dip in the ocean?”
“I’m okay for now,” I tell him, and with that, he offers me a curt nod before slipping away, and I waste no time lifting the strawberry daiquiri to my lips.
“Oh, God. That’s good.”
After drinking nearly half of it, I put it down and adjust my laptop on my thighs before finally diving deep into my research.
My target is Javier Rodríguez, a prominent figure in Europe who’s generally seen cutting ribbons and hosting elaborate parties.
He’s a wealthy businessman and a huge donor to the local children’s hospital.
He does what he can to paint himself as the perfect saint, but behind closed doors, there’s nothing saintly about him.
Javier’s got his hands in all kinds of cookie jars. Ties to the mafia and cartel, with international arms deals, and more recently has been laundering money through offshore accounts. He’s worth hundreds of millions and is quickly becoming a threat, not just in Europe, but all over the world.
As for who ordered the hit? That’s none of my business. My personal thoughts on my targets and the way they do business is none of my business. I’m here to do a job, and the second I accept that contract, I will do whatever I need to do to get the job done. I don’t fail. I never have.
I have a short list of contracts that I will deny.
Minors. That’s a no-brainer, and while you might think it doesn’t happen, it comes across my screen far more than I care to admit.
Public settings. Again, this is obvious. I’m not looking at getting caught, and I also don’t like when something has the potential to get messy. I like clean hits that don’t involve witnesses or causing unnecessary trauma.
Suspiciously high payout figures. This right here is a bright red flag that you’re about to get screwed over.
Only desperate or rookie assassins would fall for this shit, and I hate to admit that early on in my career, I was one of those suckers.
I learned the hard way how to pick and choose my contracts, and I’ve stuck with that resolve ever since.
Convenient intel. This is a tricky one, and generally it’s something you discover after accepting a contract.
When the intel is too convenient or comes too easily, it’s generally a set up.
Maybe you’ve accidentally invaded someone else’s turf, or another agency wants you out of the way.
This has only ever happened once, and the more intel I found on my target, the quicker my stomach began to sink with dread, and I got out of there as quickly as I could.
I like aiming at targets, I don’t like being made one.
I went off the radar for a while after that.
In my line of work, you only get to die of old age if you play the game smart. Greed and arrogance get us killed. Not doing your homework and being careless is as good as signing your own death certificate, and I’m not looking at leaving Spikezilla without a momma.
After an hour of thorough research, I’ve found more than just a few leads. I’ve got a plan A and B, right through to plan L, M, N, O, and P. Nothing is going to keep me from completing this hit.
Knowing exactly what I need to do, I log out of my system, pack up my things, and thank Diego for taking such good care of me over the past hour. I promise to return tomorrow for more of those delicious daiquiris.
Javier is hosting a private party for visiting business associates tonight, and judging by the photos posted online, Javier is no stranger to throwing a massive party. They’re apparently legendary around here. My goal is to get my name on the invite list.
Heading back up to my suite, I put my laptop away and pull a flirty sundress over my bikini, and as I touch up my makeup and spritz just a hint of perfume, Milan calls.
“Perfect timing,” I tell her, leaning in toward my bathroom mirror and smacking my lips with gloss. “I just stopped for my first costume change.”
Milan laughs. “Costume change? It’s not a Broadway production.”
“Oh, but it is,” I chime. “Act one, bikini on the beach. That one was for my benefit. Act two, cute sundress that shows just enough skin to have a man question whether I’m here looking for fun or a husband. Act three, sex sells. Haven’t quite figured that one out, but trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
“You know you’re a menace, right?” she asks. “How’s it going anyway? Get all your recon done on the flight?”
“Mostly,” I say, touching up my mascara.
“But this one is complicated. There are a lot of big players in this game, and a lot of leads to follow. So far, I haven’t been able to nail down an exact location.
There’s too much misinformation. But, he is hosting a party tonight, and I expect him to show his face. ”
“Oh, my god. You’ll be partying with the rich and famous in Barcelona. Do you have any idea how good that sounds?” she groans, jealousy thick in her tone. “What kind of party is it? Black-tie, sit down, catered meal kind of thing?”
“Oh no. This party is clearly for getting fucked up and grinding on a cute Spanish boy while taking shots in a million-dollar pool.”
“Damn. I want your life.”
I can’t help but laugh. “It’s gonna be a wild night. For most people. But you know I like to keep my cool at events like this. I won’t be drawing any unnecessary attention. Now, if I were here purely on vacation, that’s a different story.”
“I don’t care. I’m still jealous,” she says. “But you need to be careful. I know you’re the one who officially accepted the job, but that’s a five-million-dollar hit. Other agencies are bound to be sniffing around, and it was posted long enough to have gained the wrong kind of attention.”
“I know. I’ll be careful,” I promise, taking my long, thick hair out of its claw clip and letting it flow down my back.
I run my fingers through it for a second, quickly styling it before deciding that’s as good as it’s going to get.
My cheeks are a little red from my hour out in the sun, despite being under the shade of the cabana, but I can almost fool myself into believing that it’s nothing more than a light blush.