Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
The yellow-tinted glass surrounding the light over Shawn's kitchen table casts the room in a muted, amber glow. It morphs the deep blue tiles and countertops into a dull aqua. Blue cabinets stand out against foggy gray walls like storm clouds shadowed over a blue lagoon.
Shawn slouches in his chair, his willowy frame hunched over the table. He shoves a hand into his dishwater blonde hair, yanking it away from his eyes. As he looks up at me, his lazy grin flattens into a thin-lipped frown.
“What do you have for me?” I ask.
He stares mutely across the table, his gaze unsteady, flitting between my face and hands. He narrows his eyes, wrinkling his forehead with concern. His fingers twitch around an energy drink can, tapping out an anxious rhythm against the metal.
“You have dirt under your fingernails.” The words rush out of him so quickly that I'm not sure he meant to say it aloud. He pushes a heavy breath out from between his pursed lips. “You have dirt under your fingernails like you just dug a grave, but I know you didn't have a job planned for tonight.”
I lift my hand above my face, letting the lamp light highlight the grit and mud caked around my cuticles. “So it would seem,” I state dryly.
He's seen me in plenty worse states, but normally, I would have showered before knocking on his door.
Tonight, I couldn't bring myself to wash off the smell of her that clings to my clothes.
A grin teases at the corners of my mouth as I breathe in her scent.
I might consider never washing them again.
“Shit,” Shawn exclaims. “This is about that woman, isn't it? The one you had me make a file on. What was her name? Ava Moore?”
I glower at him, hating the sound of her name in his mouth.
His eyes go round and his pupils expand into black marbles floating in his eyes. “Shit, man. Did you kill her? Oh, God, this is so fucked up! Did she even do anything to you? Did you just murder an innocent woman?!”
Shawn rubs his palms against his eyes before dragging them down his face. Panic grips him, making his rapid breaths wheeze out of him like a leaking balloon.
I roll my eyes. For someone in this line of work, Shawn has surprisingly not let go of his morals. In his mind, I should be some kind of Robinhood, only doling out punishment to the wicked. But I'm not a hero, nor will I ever be one.
“She's alive,” I say.
He looses a heavy sigh. “Okay, good. She's alive.” He sucks in a sharp breath before continuing, “Uhh…where is she? Oh, Christ, is she tied up in your basement or something? Did you kidnap her?!”
“She's alive and well right where I left her, sleeping in her own bed.”
Shawn's head tilts until his ear is practically resting on his shoulder. “Where you left her?”
A smile creeps across my face and I nod. Like the remnants of an electric shock, my hands still tingle from being against her skin. The warmth of her lingers on my fingertips. I hated to leave her, but I can't ignore my work, at least not yet.
I've never considered retirement before, but now I wonder. Perhaps when she gives herself to me completely, we'll leave the city and find a quiet place just for the two of us. Money is no obstacle; I have more than we'll ever need. I'll take her anywhere she wants to go.
“Wait a second,” Shawn screeches, his voice jumping two octaves. “Are you saying that you're like…together? Meaning she actually likes you?”
I chuckle. “Not yet, but she will.”
Someday she'll realize that everything I do is for her. She'll see that everything about me that scares her is nothing more than exactly what she desires, but won't admit to. On that day, she won't just like me, she'll love me. Her heart and soul will be mine.
I close my eyes, remembering the relief I saw in her when she finally relinquished control to me.
When she acknowledged me as her master, I watched some of the tension ease out of her shoulders.
Her fingers loosened their death grip on the dirt and her breathing quieted.
She doesn't recognize the significance of it all yet, but she will.
She's been taking care of herself for a long time, relying only on herself for all of her needs. I won't let that continue. I'll give her everything she needs and more. I'd burn the world for her if she asked me to.
My eyelids drift open to find Shawn staring at me with his mouth agape and concern written across his face.
“She will?” he questions. “As in you’re going to…what? Force her to like you?” As if his brain is working faster than his mouth, he grumbles out a string of half-formed words before he shoves out a long sigh. “It doesn’t work that way, dude.”
“You're wearing on my patience,” I bark. “Tell me about the job.”
He straightens in his chair, schooling his features into a mask of relative calm, which for Shawn, means he still looks a bit like a deer in headlights. He wrenches open his laptop with shaking fingers.
“Right, of course,” he says while rapidly tapping against the keyboard. “The wicked witch of the West has a job for you.”
“Bianca?”
Shawn makes an affirming grunt and bobs his head.
I pull my head back in surprise. For months, Bianca has been insistent about contacting me directly.
Often demanding in person meetings so she can proposition me, convinced that I'd willingly become her personal assassin and plaything.
I shake my head, dispelling the disgusting thought of her hands on me.
I'd rather walk over hot coals than let another woman touch me.
I'm Ava’s—I have been since the moment I saw her.
And no matter how much she tries to deny it, she's mine.
He spins the laptop around to face me. On the screen is a photo of a middle aged man unloading groceries from the trunk of a mid-sized, blue sedan.
He stands in front of a small but well-maintained yellow house holding a paper bag labeled Munson's Grocery.
His light but slightly yellowed skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat.
It coats his brow beneath short-cropped, salt and pepper hair.
The picture looks like it was taken from across the street, likely from a car or surveillance van.
“Who's that?” I ask.
“Michael Crawford. He was a pretty low-level guy in Bianca's organization before he stashed some of her money and high-tailed it out of the city. Her people found him a few months later. He's staying in a house about two hours north of here in Wilmington.”
“He must have stolen a lot for her to devote the resources to finding him for months,” I surmise. “You dug into the information you got to confirm everything?”
Shawn nods. “Yeah, everything checks out.”
“Send me the file. I'll take care of it tomorrow.”
As I walk toward the door, Shawn mutters softly to himself, “And don't hurt that girl.”
An annoyed sound snorts out of my nose and I close the door with enough force to make something rattle on the other side. I would never hurt her. I shake off my irritation and step out onto the street. The wind whips around me, blasting frigid air into my face.
I pull my jacket up to my chin, releasing some of the sweet scent of Ava's hair that clings to it. As I walk back to my car, my mind wanders. It tumbles over thoughts I've never had about any woman before her.
Is she warm enough in her bed? Is she safe? Is she dreaming about me?