Chapter 2 #3
I hum in thought. “Are you sure you want to do that? If the power is still on, it might look odd to the police if they decide to investigate. Especially since he is publicly dating your sister, and The Gilded Cage is family-owned. In other words, disabling all the cameras while leaving the power running will appear really fucking suspicious.”
“Yeah, and turning off the power might tip off Franko. It’s fine.
I’d rather you were free to do what you want.
I’ll handle the fallout. It looks like we only have four people on staff for tonight’s event, and all of them belong to us.
I’ll make a call. Just give me five minutes, and the place will be yours. ”
“Thanks,” I reply, checking my various weapons on hand and readjusting my tactical vest.
“Oh, and Jericho? I changed my mind. I don’t care if you make it hurt or not. Just kill this fucker.”
A wicked smile crosses my lips. “Sure thing, boss.”
Almost as soon as Alessandro ends the call, my phone pings.
I pull up the text and the layout of The Gilded Cage.
Adrenaline pumps through my system. My hits are well thought out and executed with precision.
It might not be the battlefield I was once used to, and there might not be as many threats, but as soon as I walk into that building, I’m walking into the unknown.
Movement catches my eye, and several staff members quickly make their way out of the building to their cars.
They get in quietly and drive off, none of them bothering to look back.
How many times have they had to do something similar?
Are the employees aware that they work for one of the most dangerous families in the city?
I quickly familiarize myself with the map of the building, including the area around the table where Alessandro noted they were seated. This should be a simple job. All the moving variables will be easily accounted for. The main thing I need to do is keep an eye on The Director and his two goons.
Since all the cameras will be off and not recording, I can skip my balaclava. The mask might not actually impair my cognitive functions, but sometimes it hinders me from concentrating. Not having to worry about witnesses or cameras is freeing.
Despite that, I tug on my leather gloves because I don’t want my fingerprints found at the scene. Making my way out of the car, I scan the building. My current position allows me to be near the back door while keeping the front entrance in sight.
Alessandro calls back, informing me that he has cleared out his staff. He’s about two minutes away and plans on waiting for Sienna out back with his car running.
“Franko’s man just finished observing the back. He’s currently in the restaurant’s lobby. The guy is walking toward the front door, probably headed outside to monitor the front of the building. I’m cutting the rest of the cameras now. Good luck, Jericho… and thank you.”
“Thank me when your sister is home safe,” I reply, tapping my earpiece to end the call.
As soon as goon number one walks toward the other side of the parking lot, I move. The easiest way to avoid being seen is by sneaking in the back. At first, I contemplate whether I should pretend to be staff, but decide against it. I’ll assess the situation in person once I have eyes on the target.
The restaurant has an elegant, soft ambiance with its low lighting, high ceilings, and golden décor. It’s nothing like the casino; this place screams money and privilege. I’m pretty sure most people don’t even know this restaurant is mafia-owned.
Luckily, Sienna is as observant as she is smart, because she clocks me immediately.
Taking a casual sip of her wine, she clicks her nails against the glass, the secret sign Alessandro told me to watch out for.
She leans forward, batting her lashes at Franko.
“Excuse me, love. I need to use the ladies’ room. ”
Franko eyes her cautiously for a long, tense moment. “Of course,” he replies.
I’m not surprised when Franko nods at his guard, silently telling him to keep an eye on her.
Quickly, I make my way back down the dim hallway leading to the restroom.
I’m ghosting my way through the shadows and around the corner, my boots silent against the stainless-steel floor.
Franko’s guard, goon number two, is standing there, back against the burgundy wall, smiling like a fucking idiot at something on his phone.
I don’t waste any time trying to figure out if he’s watching some random cat video or talking with his sweetheart. I lift my tranquilizer gun and shoot.
It’s a specialized piece that’s silent and loaded with a sedative that acts almost instantly.
The dart penetrates his neck. The goon wobbles a bit and crumples to the ground.
I’m there before his head can crack against the floor.
I drag his heavy body into the women’s restroom and out of sight.
I expect Sienna to scream, or at the very least gasp, but she doesn’t.
Much to my astonishment, she nonchalantly approaches the body, heels echoing in her wake.
She lifts the skirt of her sparkling gown and kicks the man in the balls. Hard.
“Is he dead?” she asks, her tone as cold and efficient as my movements. She never takes her eyes off the man. Damn, why do I get the impression that she’ll be upset when I tell her the truth?
I shake my head. “No. But he’ll probably wish he were dead as soon as he wakes up. The migraine he’ll be experiencing will be a brutal one.”
“Hmm,” she hums, kicking him again. “Too bad. He deserves to die.” Stepping over the guard’s limp form, Sienna finally glances my way.
Her eyes sweep over my body appreciatively.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that a mafia heiress would be this fierce.
She definitely reminds me of her brother. “What now?” she asks.
Sienna is even prettier up close. Her makeup is elegant, only enhancing her beauty, but just under her foundation, there’s a darker shade.
She covered up a large bruise under her right eye.
Her arms are also littered with bruises, but she doesn’t appear weak.
If I had to guess, I would assume she’s a fighter.
“Alessandro should be right outside the back door. I’ll leave the restroom first. When I give you the sign, I need you to move as quickly and quietly as possible. But only if I give you the sign. You understand?” My gaze drops to her noisy heels.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been held against my will,” she replies, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Without me even having to say a thing, she removes her shoes, pulls out a pair of flats from her purse, and slips them on.
“Although you are way more efficient than the moron my father sent to save me last time.”
I cock a curious brow. How many fucking times has this woman had to deal with something like this? “Actually, it was your brother who sent me.”
Her face softens. “Ah, that makes more sense. I’m glad he understood my letter.” Light fingers wrap around my biceps. “Don’t get yourself killed. I want to thank you properly when this shit is over.”
Her words cause me to freeze, but I get the impression she’s not actually flirting with me. Not wanting to waste time, I don’t bother to reply. I open the door and slowly peer out. The hallway is clear.
Beckoning her forward, I give Sienna the sign.
We make eye contact, and together we move quietly.
Efficiently. My respect grows for this woman when I point further down the hall at the back entrance, and she gives me a sharp nod.
I expected a spoiled princess. One who might be hysterical and blubbering, with a river of mascara running down her cheeks.
Instead, I’m working with a woman who almost seems to be military trained in her awareness.
Sienna reminds me of my comrades on the field.
In another, alternate life, I can see myself following her orders.
She pushes the back door open as quietly as possible. From here, I spot Alessandro, gun raised. The relief that crosses his face is instant. He gives me a small smile before the back door closes behind them.
First mission accomplished. Now time to go kill this fucker.
I make my way back down the hall, quiet as a shadow.
During my military service, I honed the skill of becoming invisible, like a ghost on the battlefield.
I position myself behind a marble pillar, observing Franko with mechanical precision.
Goon number one, the guard who was originally outside, is standing next to Franko. I check the chamber of my rifle.
Franko peers at his watch, frowning. “What’s taking her so damn long?” Franko asks, sounding bored. Does he even care about Sienna, or did he plan on using her as a pawn to not pay his debt to the Mafia?
“Damn, boss.” Goon number one laughs. “You know how women are. Always taking forever and shit. She’s probably just on her period.”
Franko sucks on his teeth before a slimy smile spreads across his lips. “Trust me, that tight pussy wasn’t on her period a few hours ago. I’d know.”
Disgust roils through me. This fucking pig.
I’m half tempted to put my rifle away and pull my tranquilizer gun back out.
A sudden desire to take this piece of filth to some abandoned building just so I can torture the fool is strong.
That dark, sadistic part of me desperately wants to give in.
I study Franko Warner, the piece of shit who has always been rumored to abuse those around him.
Images of Sienna’s bruises come to mind, and that urge only grows stronger.
Tonight I got my proof. This man deserves pain.
But even as the thought comes to mind, I remember Alessandro’s words. He wants a quick death, and he’s paying me a pretty penny to deliver. I owe it to my friend not to fuck around.
As the two continue to chat, I get into position. Judging by Franko’s impatience, I don’t have much time to kill the Director before he tries to get up and go searching for Sienna. Thank fuck, she’s safe, and her brother got her out of here.
Peering through the scope of my rifle, I aim. My breaths are slow and steady; my pulse calm. I’ve done this hundreds of times before, and I can easily say I’ve never missed.
My finger hovers over the trigger before settling.
Then, movement catches my eye.
A beautiful vision in a silk scarf walks in. A man holding a bottle and two wine glasses in one hand.
My heart slams against my chest. What. The. Fuck? I’d recognize that lean, sexy body anywhere. Hell, I’ve spent countless hours jerking off to the sight of that body. Heat floods my face as my cock jerks in my pants. I lower my rifle, baffled.
Skylar King.
Skylar King is walking toward the man I was set on killing with a motherfucking smile on his face. Though walking isn’t the right word, he’s sauntering. Moving with liquid grace. Sex personified, or some poetic shit like that. Either way, my brain is misfiring, and I’m completely caught off guard.
Goon number one tenses, placing a hand on his gun. My heart rate picks up speed, but Franko shakes his head, causing everyone in the room to relax. Skylar pulls out a chair and gracefully slides into the seat. What the hell is Skylar doing here?
Sure, they both work in the porn industry, but I’ve never seen the beautiful man participate in any of the shady shit The Director is involved in. He doesn’t belong here.
This is all wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
That sudden urge to protect the smiling beauty causes a cold sweat to break out across my chest. But how the hell can I protect the man when I’m the fucking killer?
Skylar and The Director start chatting, and it’s obvious the two of them are familiar with each other. My gut roils. Skylar leans forward in a flirtatious manner before he reaches for the bottle of wine he brought with him. He pours the burgundy liquid into two glasses.
I can’t get distracted now. I need to end this. Kill the target and save the beautiful man in front of me. Get him as far away from this evil piece of shit as possible.
I adjust my rifle. Skylar hands Franko a glass of wine and sips from his own glass. I steady my breath. Franko lifts the glass of wine to his lips. It’s the perfect shot. All I need to do is pull the fucking trigger.
But of course, that’s the moment Skylar laughs, a beautiful tinkling sound that always seems to undo me. Then he glances up, searching. His eyes scan the area before settling in my general direction. The world around me feels like it freezes in time, and suddenly it’s as if his eyes snag on mine.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ve been spotted. Instead of fear, Skylar’s expression is one of furious rage.
My focus crumbles, and my usually steady hands begin to tremble. I don’t think. I react.
I squeeze the trigger.
Bang.
The kickback slams against my shoulder, but it’s all so fucking wrong. For the first time in my thirty-eight years of life… I miss.
In front of me, chaos erupts. Franko is screaming, clutching a mangled, bloody arm.
Goon number one is already moving, barking out orders, and kicking the table over for cover.
All the while, Skylar is just standing there, like the eye of the storm.
Unmoving. Not taking cover. Just standing there with fury all over his striking face, like a god of Wrath personified.