Page 2

Chapter Two

As soon as I walk into my boss’s office, he glances up at me. “Where’s my drink?”

I stare at David for a long moment. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to tuck it in my underwear and carry it along for the ride while I was being shot at? It might have gotten a little… warm in there. I’m sweaty enough my underwear is like adhered to my ass, but if you wanted your drink in there, I supposed it could have cooled my bits down.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair. “Why do you say this shit, Aiden?”

“Why do you ask me dumb questions like whether or not I saved your drink?”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“Yet you still love me,” I say.

“Don’t fucking know why he even tolerates you,” David’s son Ronald interjects as he walks in. I like to believe most of his bitterness stems from bullies calling him Ronald McDonald growing up… until I remember that I was the only one who called him that. It could also be because of his superiority complex and ability to belittle everyone he comes across. “Did you even accomplish anything?”

“Yeah, I accomplished getting my brand-new shoes coated in coffee,” I say as I wave toward them.

David ignores all of that—clearly, he doesn’t understand the issue here—and asks, “You know who shot at me?”

“Well, yeah, your cleaner is dragging their body off, so I have a pretty good idea.”

“It’s that asshole trying to sell drugs on my streets,” Ronald says, like he has any “streets.”

While David doesn’t delve too much into drugs, he’s not about to let anyone move them onto his territory. Instead, he plays a rather lucrative game of arms dealing and money laundering. All while the police “turn a blind eye” because the chief of police has some part in the business that helps fund his vacation home.

The area had one of the highest crime rates in the country until David waltzed in. But now his crew has cleaned up most of the bullshit, and with the money the police make dealing with David, he’s been free to run things how he wants.

Until now, that is.

Shit like this never goes unnoticed, and there’s a group that seems to believe the territory should be theirs. Their response to David pushing back was to stick a price on his head, sending off anyone who’d be willing to put a bullet in David’s head after him. It’s caused things to be a bit dicey lately. While David would surely love to send someone out to kill the person in charge… we’ve run into the issue of not knowing who that person is.

“We found a location we think they’re dealing out of,” David says. “I need you to go there tonight and clear the place out. And that assassin who’s been irritating us—did you take care of him yet?”

I think back to the man reading his book. “Which one?”

“You know which one,” David says. “Where’s he from?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask him out on a date next time I see him and see if he’ll tell me before I report back.”

David doesn’t seem to think I’m as funny as I think I am. “Kill him.”

“Yes, sir. I think he’s independent. Probably in it for the money or maybe someone hired him,” I say. “I don’t think he’s working for the same crew, from what I can tell. His skill outweighs the others’ significantly and he never seems to work well with them.”

“Either way, take care of that location and then kill him,” he orders.

“Fine, fine. I’ll handle it.”

After getting a good look at the location online, I decide to wait until it’s dark. There are no houses or trees in the area, so if I want to go in without being sighted, I feel like I’ll need the dark to assist me. David leaves Ronald to make the preparations, which means Ronald sends me out by myself because I’ve “got this.”

I’m pretty sure Ronald just hopes I won’t come home. It’s definitely not the first time he’s sent me out alone, and I’ll make sure it’s not the last.

While scouting out the area online, I’d noticed a nice alcove to park my car in that’s about a quarter of a mile from the run-down building. It’d keep the vehicle out of sight from anyone on the road, and if I killed the lights, no one would see it when I pulled in.

The issue is that when I reach the spot that would fit my car quite nicely, there’s another car in there.

“What the fuck is this?” I mutter to myself as I try to squeeze my car into what is left of the spot before getting out. The owner of the other vehicle will definitely be stuck until I choose to leave.

With a gun in hand, I start toward the building a moment before my phone dings.

I look down at it and can’t help but smile when I see the text.

Unknown number: Why are you here? Are you stalking me?

Me: No, I got a 911 call from your shirt, begging for someone to save it from the torture you put it through.

Unknown number: You know I’ve been hired to deal with you too?

Me: I can’t wait. How about this? I come from the south side, you come from the north. We meet in the middle. Final one standing gets your shirt.

Unknown number: So you’re going to shoot me and take my shirt?

Me: Only way to save it.

Unknown number: Fine.

Me: Try not to get blood on it.

I slide my phone back into my pocket as I weigh my options. I really don’t know this guy well at all. I don’t know his name—unless it actually is Isaiah—and beyond coming to the realization about a week ago that he was out to kill David, I hadn’t given the guy a second thought. I met him about six months ago when we were after the same guy, unbeknownst to me.

When I’d been targeted by a group of guys, I’d found myself rather surprised when a sixth guy shot one of his own. It took me only a few minutes to realize that it wasn’t his own man, and while he wasn’t necessarily helping me, he was narrowing down the numbers.

And then when I met him, I told him we could fuck instead of fight… which weirdly seemed to confuse him, and we went our separate ways. In the past six months I’ve seen him a grand total of three times, not counting today. But it was around this time last week that I realized that his new target wasn’t someone I was also trying to kill, but my very own boss. Even though that’s a bit of a bummer, I can’t deny I’ve enjoyed running into him each time.

But… should I actually trust this man I don’t really know?

Who’s to say that today isn’t the day he shoots me in the back of the head and calls it good?

The better question is… why do I even trust him? And is it even trust I feel?

Or is it intrigue?

But just today, I gave him my back. I willingly allowed him to walk up behind me, to grab me… and at any point he could have shot me.

So do I go to the south, or will he expect me to go there and shoot me the moment I step inside? Or is he really going to play my senseless game?

I guess there’s only one way to find out.

Using the darkness as cover, I head toward the old building. It looks like it might have once been used for something commercial, but it’s hard to tell with how run-down it is. The windows are covered so no light leaks through them, and when I reach the back door, there’s a broken lock hanging on it, like the previous owners thought it would keep people out.

Just as I reach for the doorknob, I hear someone twist it and I step back as the door is swung open. The man is busy looking down at his lighter and cigarette, so he doesn’t even notice me until I grab him by the neck and drag him off into the overgrown brush. He thrashes, but my hold simply tightens on him, bringing him to a stop before I drop him onto the ground and turn back toward the door hanging wide open.

Someone seems to have noticed it as I hear footsteps. “What the fuck are you leaving the door open for? You want attention?”

He reaches for the doorknob but gets an eyeful of me instead as I lift my gun and shoot him. The gun is silenced, but in the still summer night air, even a silenced gun makes noise.

“You hear that?” someone else shouts, and then chaos explodes.

I can’t tell if I’ve caused that chaos or it’s my new snug-shirted friend. Without hesitation, I move toward the open doorway, filling it as the smell of the chemicals they’d been using to make drugs stings my nose.

The familiar smell of it simply makes me more irritated. People like this are the reason why my mother died in some fucking alley, leaving me to wander the streets. Why my father was shot in the head right in front of me.

I have no sympathy for them, and the next person I see, I send to the ground. I kind of forget all about doing this for some kind of revenge drama that David has going on and instead play into the idea of how I dreamed about getting rid of all the people who fed my mother drugs every time she went looking. Like my young and stupid self could have actually done something.

A man leaps out from behind a cabinet and swings a bat at my head, knocking me out of my memories. I duck it just in time to avoid my brain being smashed in, leaving the baseball bat to punch a hole in the wall. The man screams as he gives it another swing while a second man raises his gun.

I step back to avoid the swing, yanking the man’s arm quickly while I shove him right into the line of fire as his buddy shoots.

Once they’re both on the ground, I continue deeper into the building.

When I step into the main room, I shoot a man who’d been scrambling for his gun before I realize that he didn’t have one bullet in him but two when he hit the ground.

The remaining gunman shifts his weapon over to me.

“And then there were two,” I say, my gun also trained on him.

“Did you make sure to take care of everyone on that side?” Isaiah asks.

“I sure did. You didn’t slack off, did you?”

“I did check my messages at one point since you looked like you had it handled. Then I browsed social media for a short bit.”

That makes me grin. “I like a man who can be confident in my skills. My boss told me that as soon as I was done cleaning up here, I was to shoot you.”

“Funny, I was hired to deal with you.”

“So should we flip a coin to see who should shoot the other first?”

Isaiah thinks about that for a moment. “You have a coin?”

“No. I was hoping you had one, and then when you reached for it, I’d shoot you,” I explain.

“How often does telling your plan to the person you’re aiming to shoot work for you?”

“Not as often as one would hope,” I say. “The thing is, if we shoot at the same time, then we both die, and really… the world would be devastated, losing both of us. We can figure this out in a rational manner. How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight. You?”

“Ah, I’m only thirty-three, so I have more life left to live. And you’ve practically already experienced most of your life… really, what else is out there for you?”

“But maybe I’ve lived a healthier life and have longer to live.”

He raises a good point if I really think about it. “Hmm… I did eat like four brownies before bed last night,” I mutter.

“Do you have any pets?”

I shake my head. “Sadly, I don’t. My boss is allergic.”

“See? I have a dog at home. If I were to die, he’d probably die of loneliness. Everyone knows the dog’s life matters most. Haven’t you ever watched a movie or read a book where the dog dies and everyone is pissed?”

“Fuck. You’re right…”

Suddenly, my watch beeps and I look down at it.

Eleven o’clock.

“Looky there. I’m off the clock. Guess I can shoot you some other night,” I say as I do a cocky twirl of my gun before sliding it right into the holster.

“Funny, I’m also off the clock,” he says as he lowers his gun.

“How weird.” I turn from the man—fully aware I’m giving him my back—before reaching down and, with gloved hands, picking up the baseball bat the guy had tried to bust my head open with.

“We going to brawl now or something?” he asks.

“Not unless we’re both naked,” I say as I head over to the equipment and start bashing it. At this point, I’m well aware it’s my own issues that leave me smashing the equipment as Isaiah watches.

“Is Isaiah your real name?” I ask as I realize that it was just something written on the cup; it doesn’t actually mean it’s his name.

“Nope.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Do you really think that’ll work?” he asks.

“Does that mean I can rename you? You look like a Fido.”

“Am I a dog?”

“You do seem to trot after me like a stray mutt. Just everywhere I go, there you are.”

“Do you ever think that maybe it’s your life I’m after and not you?” he asks.

“Eh. Anyway, Isaiah, are those muscles just for show?” I ask as I wave the bat around, really feeling like he could help out instead of watching.

“You’re actually wanting me to work?”

“I mean, you’re fine standing there and looking pretty too.”

He folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall as he watches me destroy shit. “Your boss this hung up on drugs?”

“Something like that,” I say as I toss the bat and start toward the door. “You coming?”

“I’m coming.”

“Are you going to apologize for my drink now?”

“I don’t have any money on me to buy you a new one.”

I raise an eyebrow, pretty confident that’s not the issue. “How much did you get paid for this job?”

“More than you,” he says as he follows me.

“So you really are a man for hire. Does that mean I can hire you for a job?”

Isaiah steps up beside me as I head toward the cars. “I don’t take on just any job.”

“Oh… are you an ‘I only take the jobs that are worth the money’ or are you an ‘I only take the jobs that have meaning’ kind of man?”

“I’m an ‘I do whatever I want when I want’ kind of man,” he says. “Which generally means helping or saving people.”

“And what do you want to do right now?” I ask.

“Probably get some sleep. I got up ridiculously early this morning because we have this squirrel in the yard that my dog is confident is a covert assassin out to fuck up his life.”

“That sounds pretty cute. Why don’t you shoot the squirrel and show the dog what it means to have fingers?”

“But what if the squirrel isn’t the bad guy here?” he asks. “What if my dog said some shit about the squirrel?”

“I guess blackmail is your only option. And let’s not forget you’re saying all of this shit because you want to get out of owning up to the fact that you destroyed my drink,” I growl.

“Yeah?” he asks as he starts off… not toward the cars but out into some cornfield. He’s totally taking me out here to murder me, and yet here I am, heading after him.

“Did you dig a little grave out here for me?” I ask as I willingly trot right after him. “Did you make sure it was big enough for my voluptuous ass that you got to see earlier today?”

“Voluptuous… I’d love to hear your definition of what that word means.”

I gasp and walk faster so I can catch up to him. “Excuse me… are you calling me a liar?”

He just laughs as he keeps going.

“You’re not afraid I’m going to call my guys to come help me pick you off?” I ask.

Isaiah glances over at me. “I’m more than positive that if you wanted to kill me, I would be dead. I’m not too proud of a man to deny that I know when I’ve met my match.”

“Hmm… that’s almost enough to make me blush,” I tease as I keep walking. “Where are we going if it isn’t to my grave?”

“Do we have to have a place or a reason? Don’t you ever just step out and enjoy the night?”

“Not too often. In this line of work, nighttime is usually when all the exhausting shit goes down,” I say as we break through the cornfield and come to a large pond. He sits down in front of it and glances over at me. “Nighttime is when the fights start, the drugs set in, the alcohol starts moving, and the guns come out.”

“But you’re off at eleven?”

“Supposedly. But I’m never actually ‘off.’” I hesitate before sitting down next to Isaiah.

“You don’t mind working for a bad man?”

“Is he a bad man?” I ask.

“You think he’s a good man?”

“I’ve seen much worse. I’ve seen rapists, men who kill for sport, and people who would slaughter their whole family for just another taste of the drug that keeps them going. So on my tier of bad, I don’t find David that bad.”

“He sells weapons to people who use them to kill for sport or the ones who kill their family for drugs.”

“But he doesn’t make them use it,” I counter. “It’s like saying the people who have vending machines are evil because vending machines kill.”

“Your sense of justice is horribly skewed, Aiden.”

“Says the man who just killed multiple people. Who are you to decide who is good or bad?”

“I guess I’m just going to have to start offing people using vending machines.”

I grin as he tips his head back to look up at the sky. I’m not quite sure what’s so exciting up there, but I tilt my head up to look and find it oddly beautiful as the nearly full moon shines down on us.

“So you think you’re a good person and the rest of us are bad people and that’s that?” I question.

Isaiah raises an eyebrow. “I never said if I was good or bad.”

“Or wait, you think because you’re hot you get a free pass?”

“That’s definitely what I was going for with this conversation,” he says sarcastically.

“If you were such a good person, you wouldn’t torture all of your shirts like that. ‘Help me… please! I can’t stretch anymore!’” I make sure to give the shirt a very nice voice.

“I don’t know, I actually kind of think they like it,” he says as he gives his shirt a little tug. “Would it hug me so tightly if it didn’t?”

I grin at that and sit for a minute longer before deciding there’s a perfectly good pond right in front of me and a perfectly valid reason to get naked. “Man, I’m really quite hot.”

“It is pretty hot out.”

“And this water is calling my name.”

“Is it?”

“Sure as fuck is. But first, I want you to watch how easy it is to take a regular shirt off,” I instruct as I slide it off. “I don’t even need anyone there to paint it on me.”

“You can’t even pretend you don’t like it,” he says.

I eye his shirt and grin as I kick my shoes and socks off. “Maybe I’m a bit jealous of your shirt. Maybe I wish I was your shirt.” I turn toward the water and hook my pants with my thumbs, sliding them just enough to give him a peek of my ass. “Are you coming?”

“I’m enjoying the show.” Isaiah watches me push my pants and underwear partway down my hips before I glance back at his enraptured eyes. And just when I have him hooked, I slide them to the ground and kick them off. Not only am I now completely naked, but my gun is closer to him than it is to me. He could shoot me in the back of the head and call it a day… and still… I can’t bring myself to find any reason to doubt him. He stands up and watches me for a moment as I realize the amount of trust I’m making him have in me.

This game we’re playing is one thing, but to get him to willingly leave his gun behind… it’s a whole other one. My men could be lying in wait, even unbeknownst to me.

“I’ve done a lot of foolish things in my life,” he says as he watches me back up deeper and deeper into the water before I sink into it.

“Yeah? What’s wrong with having a little fun?” I ask as I watch him slowly reach down to unbutton his pants.

“Because having ‘a little fun’ with you could end up with me dead. And don’t forget, if I’m dead, the dog is sad, and that’s really what matters.”

“He does sound super sweet, so I’ll protect you to protect his happiness,” I assure him.

“You’re not the only one I’m worried about. Your men surely know you’re here.”

“Don’t worry. Ronald sent me off alone in the hope I’d croak along the way. I highly doubt he’s rushing anyone off to make sure I’m alive and well. But I will throw myself in front of a bullet for you if it comes to that.”

“There’s no way you’d do that.”

“You’re right, but I wanted to look sexy and dramatic. Like ‘Oh, you’ve titillated me so much that I’m willing to die for you.’”

“Weren’t you just pissed at me for shooting your drink?”

“Fuck, and then you remind me of things like that. Get in here so I can drown you a little. Just a little. I want you to feel the sadness I felt when you destroyed my drink.”

Isaiah finally unzips his pants as I’m over here floating in the water, waiting for a show.

“I’m going to fall asleep by the time you actually get those things off! How long is that zipper? How slow are you moving?”

“I’m assessing things.”

“Assess them naked!”

“It’s harder to assess things naked. The intelligent part of my mind is like ‘This is horribly foolish, that man should not be trusted,’ and then the other part is all ‘I saw his ass. Ha ha. I should follow that ass.’”

“That second part sure shouldn’t listen to that foolish first part,” I say.

That makes him laugh, but it also makes him finally push his pants down, though he doesn’t kick them off. Of course he doesn’t do the pants and underwear at the same time. No, I now have to go through the torture of that.

“Are you just trying to wear me out here so you’re taking your time?” I ask as I flip onto my back and float a bit. “Weaken me a bit so when I attack you, you’re at full strength? Or do you need to see my ass again?” I flip back over so he can see it shimmering in the water. “It’s very naked and very wet and definitely voluptuous if you look at it at just the right angle… this might not be the right angle.”

“When I was looking into David and his group, I was warned about his ‘fighting dog.’ I was told that he was cruel and brutal?—”

“Maybe you misheard them, and they said cool and beaut iful.”

“No, the guy was missing an eye that… you… took. I really don’t feel like he would have picked cool and beautiful.”

“Ah, my bad. Although, in my defense… he no longer needed that eye after he tried shooting me, all because I told him I’d break his hand if he laid it on the girls at the club again. What else did you hear about me?”

“Pretty fascinating stuff about your skills and your devotion to David.”

“How exciting. I didn’t know I was so famous. Are you just going to stand there with your pants around your ankles? Is that a new seduction tactic?”

“No, I realized that I was so distracted by you that my shoes are still on.”

“Are you untying them? What kind of heathen unties their shoes? What if you have to run quickly? And you’re over there tying your fucking shoes. That’s a horrible idea.”

“Now it’s going to take me longer because I feel like I need to retie them!”

“Just take your shirt off, man. I want to know if you have to peel it off!”

“Just give me a second. I have to retie my shoes!”

“Leave the shoes! Rip the shirt off. Hulk out of it, please.”

“It’s too stretchy, it won’t tear,” Isaiah says as he gives me a show of how stretchy it is.

“My fingers are getting all pruney waiting for you! Once you see my wrinkled and waterlogged flesh you’re going to be so turned off.”

“I’m hurrying! But also paranoid I’m going to get shot in the head, you know?” He’s finally got the shoes and pants off.

“Maybe the secret gunmen hiding in the bushes are also waiting for you to take your shirt off.”

“It’s coming off!” he says as he pulls it off with a bit of a struggle.

“I knew there’d be some struggling.”

“It’s because you’re making me overthink it!” he cries as his head finally pops out before he drops it.

“I just heard a cry of relief from it as it hit the ground.”

“You didn’t hear shit,” he says as I let my eyes wander over his muscular chest before realizing that he’s finally removing the last piece of clothing. My eyes dip down as he starts walking toward me.

“My eyes are up here,” he jokes.

“My bad,” I tease as I swim back from him a bit, forcing him to come out deeper into the pond to get me. There’s nothing wrong with making him work a little bit.

Once he dives into the water, it only takes a few broad strokes to reach me, and then I can tell he doesn’t quite know what to do. I kind of feel like to him, I’m someone who is interesting yet someone to be wary of. He doesn’t know what to think of me, but he’s intrigued, and at the end of the day, that might be all it is… or all he’s going to let himself believe it is.

But he’s still fixated on me as I swim up to him and loop my arms around his neck. We can both touch the bottom here, but I want to hang on to him instead.

“Why would my client want you dead?” Isaiah asks.

“You’d have to ask them, not me.”

“Hmm…”

I lean in and his eyes drop down to my lips, which is all the encouragement I need to press mine against his. His hands reach out as one slides around my waist and the other bumps against my thigh.

My lips part and just as my tongue brushes against his, a call comes through on my watch. I ignore it but Isaiah doesn’t. He pulls back and glances at the watch which is telling me that Ronald is calling.

“You need to take that?”

“Not sure that I do,” I say, pulling him close as the call stops before Ronald is immediately calling back.

I sigh and press a finger against his lips as I accept the call that’s on speaker so we can both hear. “I’m busy, Ronald.”

“I need you here now. There’s been an attack. Get your ass here.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. “It’s going to take me fifteen minutes.”

“Get your ass here,” he snaps and hangs up.

“Fucking hell,” I grumble.

“Don’t go,” Isaiah says.

“You’re cute, but I can’t just wash my hands of this for a man whose name I don’t even know,” I tell him.

“You could. There’s a much better life out there for you. Imagine the people you could help or save if you did a job like me, assisting those who’ve been wronged. With your skills, you could really make a difference. You could join me and save lives instead of just taking them.”

“I have to actually like people to want to save them. There is only one person who’s ever done shit for me and that’s David. Everyone else walked right on by or watched it happen. Some other time…”

“There might not be a next time.”

“Hmm… I’d very much prefer not to shoot you… but life doesn’t always go the way I want,” I say as I wade back to the edge. I’m soaking wet, but I tug the clothes on anyway and cram my feet in my shoes before I take off running for my car.

A tiny part of me can’t help but wonder if Isaiah isn’t the lone wolf he claims he is… if this wasn’t a way to keep me away from them… but I’m not that good. I’m sure it’s more turf bullshit.

I’d be lying if I said that running off with Isaiah and doing little jobs for people I pick isn’t tempting.

But that’s not how life works for someone like me. Even if I wanted to leave David… I’m not quite sure I could. I mean… would he really let his best shot walk away?

I hurry out to the car as I push all of those thoughts away.