Chapter Four
O’Connor
Iknew my new neighbors were going to be a fucking problem.
My targets shift in and out of focus as I remain motionless in the shadows. People at parties don’t pay attention to what is happening on the outskirts. They’re trained to ignore everything that makes a party function. Wait staff, caterers, bartenders. The nobodies.
They dress in their fancy clothes and finest jewels because they like being ogled by their peers, but they don’t care who else is watching.
My targets split off from one another on the terrace, but I know they won’t stray far from each other.
My breathing stays neutral as my eyes scan the area, keeping everything in view, not focusing on any location for too long. When a particular color of blonde catches my attention, I huff silently in annoyance.
The little neighbor, Avery Scott, is dancing towards the swimming pool. She’s too young to know that she’s behaving out of the norm at a social gathering. Rarely does anyone break away from the pack of people they’re trying to impress.
But little Avery keeps advancing to the pool, only stopping to admire the glass surface. I’d imagine this pool hasn’t been anything but a decoration for a long time. It’s a show of wealth, not pleasure.
I ignore her, continuing to scan the terrace for my real target, until soft taps bring me back to her sparkly shoes, toeing the edge of the stairs.
God dammit. Does she even know how to swim?
This child is not my concern.
Where is her mother?
As if I spoke the words out loud, I see the other familiar head of hair weaving in and out of the guests on the far side of the patio.
She looks different tonight. The hair that usually hangs wildly past her shoulders is pinned up against her head. Her bangs are curled off her face, and her makeup is dark.
She’s wearing a mask tonight just like I am.
Avery’s little shoe dances on the surface of the water, not submerging, just causing a cascade of ripples across the blue honey hole.
Her body jerks as her hand slips an inch down the metal rail, but she rights herself quickly before giggling.
A canary’s song dances through the air, mixing with her laughter and catching her attention. I purse my lips, silencing my whistle as she searches the sky.
Her blonde hair whips around as she investigates the pretty bird song, bouncing on her tiptoes around the pool like a little fairy, making me grit my teeth.
I knew whistling would get her attention away from the water, but the last thing I need is for her to come into the garden.
I let it loose before I fully considered the ramifications. Just like the night I snuck into my neighbor’s home without my mask, and found little Avery staring up at me from her side of the bed…
“Are you da neighbor?” Her little voice whispered.
I nodded slowly.
“What’s your name?”
“Jack,” the admission came out before I could stop it.
“Isn’t it bedtime, Mr. Jack?”
“It is. Goodnight, Avery.”
I told her my real name as if she was holding me at gunpoint. It could have been a costly mistake.
Where is her damn mother?
But instead of her mother appearing, another party guest does.
Great, someone else’s problem.
“Hey, pretty girl. What are you doing out here alone?” The man says to her as he rounds the pool to her location. They’re so close to me, but they have no idea I’m here in the shadows.
“The water.” She motions to the pool innocently.
“I see that. Do you swim?”
She nods. “Wiff floaties.”
“That’s good. What kind of bathing suit do you have?”
A buzzing starts deep in my ears.
“Pink and sparkles like a mermaid.”
“I bet that looks really pretty on you.”
My previously lax shoulders raise rigidly with tension.
This is not my problem. Not my problem.
“My mommy got it for me.”
“Do you ever swim with no bathing suit?” He asks slyly, bending to his knees until he’s face-to-face with her.
“No, that’s silly.” She giggles, and I have to work harder to hide the sounds of my breathing.
“I think it would be a lot of fun. Do you like to have fun?”
“Yes.”
“I bet if you took your dress off and jumped in, you would look like a mermaid,” he whispers.
“Really?” She asks with so much innocence; anger twists deep in my chest.
“And, I’d be right here, ready to jump in and save you.” His fingers raise, hovering over Avery’s blonde hair, and my boot lifts from the ground involuntarily.
But Linden Scott comes bounding down the steps to the pool deck without a clue of what just transpired, and I fall back into my statuesque place in the shadows.
Until the man rises to his feet, and ever so subtly, in a way only another male might pick up on, adjusts the erection behind the zipper in his dress pants.
Their conversation covers my approach, and as soon as Linden and Avery turn their backs, my new prey is swallowed into the darkness with me.
It only takes a hand over his mouth to keep him silent because his body is so weak and pliant. Hardly a man at all.
I drag him behind the pool shed, and without blinking… One twist of his neck drops him dead at my feet.
I stand to my full height, staring at the scum I just rid the earth of without even raising my pulse.
This is what I was made for. What I live for.
The silence of my conscience makes it easy to detect another presence among me, and my body stills like I’ve been trained to do.
I can move without being seen. I can see without looking.
Linden is watching me. She can’t see me, not really, but she’s looking right at me as if she senses me too.
Her eyes are so inquisitive but innocent like her daughters. They have no idea of the shit storm they walked into when they moved in next door.
But I guess if they are involved with the Scott family, then the storm was already brewing for them.
Because there might be a dead man at my feet, but her daughter’s grandparents are the real monsters.
My targets.
The glow of a distant light flashes in my eyes for the briefest second, and on instinct, I disappear further into the darkness.
It’s where I belong. Where I thrive.
It’s why I was chosen.
* * *
A large part of remaining unseen is learning how to move slowly and in silence.
No one pays attention to the shitty house or the man working on his shitty truck. If anything, they avoid looking altogether.
But I look. I see everything.
Dusk is nearing darkness, and that’s when I transform to something else entirely.
But for now, I wait. I tinker around in my garage and pretend I’m a failing mechanic, lost in my own world.
When really, I’m thinking about all the intel I’ve gathering on my targets. And all the moving pieces that will make or break my op.
My eyes stray to the window on the side of my neighbor’s house. Her kitchen is lit up like it normally is, with zero effort to maintain their privacy, and a steady stream of music playing.
Even if they had curtains, their presence would be entirely too difficult to ignore.
This house was chosen specifically because of the vacant lot next door. Privacy means more opportunities to operate without being seen.
And then Linden Scott had to pull up and throw a wrench in everything.
The first night I snuck into her house, I had to retrieve the spyware I had installed in their attic. Long-range devices that were picking up on sounds and frequencies coming from the mansion up on the hill.
I took my time, rifling through her newly unpacked things. That’s when I met little Avery. Luckily, she fell back into a deep slumber, and nothing indicates that she remembers me being there.
There were never any screams of terror or police knocking on my door. Not that the police could do anything to me anyway.
I’m untouchable because I don’t exist. Not in their databases.
Movement in my neighbor’s window draws me in, threatening to pull me from my shadows. Each night the toes of my boots creep towards the light emanating from her kitchen window.
Intel tells me they aren’t a threat to my operation, not anymore… But I can’t stop watching.
Waiting for another performance.
Seeing a woman dance isn’t something that intrigues me, but watching Linden sing in her kitchen every night and hearing her daughter’s laughter sends dangerous sparks of dopamine into my nervous system. Dangerous because it becomes addictive.
Hiding in the shadows becomes mundane, and your brain craves that next hit.
Unfortunately, mine has found it in the woman next door.
A noise to my left draws my attention, and I look without moving. A car pulls into my neighbor’s driveway, and it’s one I’ve already marked.
Her landlord.
Linden doesn’t hear that she’s about to be interrupted yet, and I watch her visceral reaction when the knock sounds on her front door.
Her posture goes rigid, and she hesitates before succumbing to her duty to answer.
She doesn’t like interruptions.
Or, she doesn’t like him.
I abandon my place in the shadows because now it’s safer for everyone if my presence is known. I walk the edge of my property, trailing my hand over the warped chain link fence that has become a longstanding project.
Something to do when I need a better view.
She is standing in her doorway, talking to the man about his mother across the street.
I’d gathered that Linden is a caretaker of sorts, though none of it is on the books. I’ve made it my business to learn everything I can about the woman next door, but she’s still a mystery. Nothing a deep dive online, or through illegal channels, can explain.
Like why is she living in this rundown house when her in-laws are the richest people in this corner of the state?
I make as much noise as possible as I mess with the fence, so the landlord knows I’m here. Watching.
One flick of his head in my direction is all he needs to offer a quick goodbye. It’s human nature to run from something that could kill you. The body knows, even if the mind doesn’t.
As he gets in the car, I can tell Linden is feeling the same cue to evade me, but she’s trying to be brave, lingering on her front porch.
I’m a danger to her, too.
“Does that fence belong to you? Or me?” She asks suddenly, breaking the veil of silence in the air.
Talking to her could invite more trouble for me, but not talking to her leaves too many questions unanswered. “Mine,” I clip gruffly.
“Oh, right.”
“Does he stop by often?” I ask, knowing damn well I’ve tracked how many times the landlord has shown up the past few weeks. I see everything.
She sighs. “Yes, unfortunately.”
“Tell him to stop.”
“I can’t. He did me a favor by letting me live here. Paying me to look after his mom.”
“You’re still entitled to privacy. It’s past dark.”
She glances at the sky like hearing that pulls her to look at the rising moon. “I’m an idiot and didn’t sign a lease. I’m afraid if I piss him off, he’ll kick us out. I don’t have very many options right now,” she admits meekly.
“Why?” Shit. Too soon.
She looks at me a moment, thinking the same thing. “Have a good night…” She hesitates, “What’s your name?”
Smith. “O’Connor.”
Fuck.
“That sounds like a last name.”
“It is.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Jack.”
Her eyes widen, and she slips inside without another word.
Nearly a decade of doing deep cover operations, and one set of innocent neighbors has me destroying the anonymity that I survive on.