Page 9 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

Atlas

Present Day

It all took a lot longer than expected, but I’ve kept tabs on her. When Connor, one of our tech guys, noticed she was looking into properties for sale, I had him redirect all of her searches to Columbus. I worked quickly, purchasing a storefront that was recently built and placed on the market.

I lowered the cost and had Connor push the property, hoping she would bite for the steal. She did, messaging me unknowingly about touring the simple layout. I messaged her back, heart pounding wildly as I instructed her to use the key under the mat to get in.

I still had loose ends to tie up, so speaking with her was off the table then, but I was there. I had driven my bike into the city, parking across from the glass storefront as I watched her.

My breath caught, and everything around me ceased to exist in her presence.

Her face had lost most of its baby fat, looking slimmer and more mature—a face I couldn’t wait to see twisted in pure ecstasy under me.

She hadn’t grown much, but her shape had changed.

Her hips were wider, fuller, and her legs looked thicker.

She was muscled, like she visited the gym regularly, but Jesus fucking Christ, was it doing her good.

She looked amazing, and I had to reason with myself to stay on my bike and not stalk in there and throw her down on the empty counters and eat her alive.

I was reluctant to leave, but seeing her so close for the first time in years spurred me on to get my loose ends tied up much quicker.

Loxley accepted the offer, wiring the money in full for the store. I stashed it away in the savings account I had opened for her a few years ago, portions of my bounties already stacked in the untouched account. She has no idea she’s set for life.

After the paperwork was handled, I had to make a quick trip to Arkansas. On a mission a month ago, I killed another syndicate member who thought it would be a funny little joke to place a bounty on my head.

Holding sway in an organization of this size means power. People will do anything to get to that power, including setting a hit against you.

I found his house, turned his stove on, and roasted him like a marshmallow. Personally, I like my marshmallows a little crispy, but he was definitely over done.

I had to pay a fine for killing him, since the hit was considered a prank and everyone knew better than to entertain it, but I knew if the information got into the right hands, I would have assassins beating down my door.

Regardless, once I got back, Loxley had already started setting up her bakery. She moved into an apartment, but no eyes had been on her for the move.

I had to do things the old fashioned way, stalking her until I had the apartment building address.

Then I needed her unit number.

That’s when I discovered Charles. His patterns were odd, only coming during the night two days a week.

I recognized him from the hit list. He was a lower bounty, someone claiming he wasn’t worth a whole lot dead.

I was just going to leave him alone, that is until I saw him and Loxley leaving at the same time one morning.

They chatted casually, like they were acquainted enough to hold conversation. That settled Charles’ fate, and we took him from the club he frequented in Columbus.

I have all the answers I need and Loxley is now under the syndicate’s direct protection. I already have her security system ready to go.

She’s working late at night to get ready for the grand opening in two days, so I have some time to get everything set up.

“I have another job for you,” I say as Dom pulls up to my house.

I had the cottage commissioned the very night my dad died.

It has a rustic aesthetic, making it seem like a small farmhouse.

It’s one story with small square windows and wooden siding.

The porch out front is quaint, a few lanterns lighting the patio furniture.

Truth be told, I’m not used to little homes with more intimate space. Growing up in a massive house like my father’s ensured we all had our alone time when we weren’t training (being tortured). If we were of no use to dad, he didn’t want to see us.

But Loxley wouldn’t like a big house. She had shown me images of small cottages she loved on the library’s computers during one of our many study halls. She enjoyed the cozy feeling of a close knit family. She wanted something that felt like a home since she bounced around a lot as a kid.

And I didn’t want alone time from her. The small space is a change, but a welcome one.

Watching her get cozy in the reading nook with a book from the library I stocked for her is becoming a daydream I live in.

Walking into the wide counter topped kitchen to see all of her recipes, whisks, baking trays, and flour overcrowding the surfaces as she tests new recipes is a vision.

I would sit down at the bar, letting her talk endlessly about her new dessert as she used me as her test subject.

She really has a talent.

While attempting to get Sweet Haven, her bakery, up and running, I was one of her biggest supporters. She had no idea she was selling to me, but I would order regularly. She did most of her work through her social media, so she had a select few baked goods that could be overnighted.

I would order dozens of cookies and some little cakes called Petit Fours—the best fucking cookies and cakes I’ve ever had.

I would bring them to Dale’s, one assassin on the compound that erected a bar in his backyard, and give them out for everyone to try.

A few people on the compound started ordering from her regularly, boosting her sales almost overnight.

I never disclosed who Loxley was to me, but everyone had their suspicions.

Dom groans, “What now? Am I ever going to sleep tonight?”

I laugh, opening my door and showing him my phone. “Just go to this address and watch over the woman in the store. You don’t have to go in, but I’ll text you when I’m done setting up her security system.”

His head rears as he stares at my phone. “This woman is really doing a number on you. Who are you and what have you done with Atlas?”

I smirk, “What can I say? I’m a changed man now that she’s back.”

He deadpans, “Sure you are. Are you trying to convince yourself or her?”

He taps the address into his gps and I get out of the car, leaning down so he can see me in the window. “If you tell her anything, I’ll kill you.” I threaten with a smile.

He gives me a blank expression. “Hurry the fuck up. I’m starting to see double.”

I tap the hood of his car, watching as he peels out of the driveway.

I walk up the steps of my porch, opening the front door as I lumber straight to the bedroom. The security system is laid out on the bed, just like Connor promised, ready to be assembled and linked to my phone.

I snatch it up before grabbing the key to my bike and the black balaclava off my dresser.

After so many years, it’s easy to forget the promises made long ago. Loxley has lived her life to the fullest, going to college, traveling, and even dating. The dating never really bothered me, because in the end, I knew her little flings wouldn’t outlast me.

I made sure of that.

I had to send a few of them packing when things got too serious. One guy, an intense man named Zack, bought a fucking engagement ring six months into their relationship. He woke up the next morning with his car on fire and me propped up outside his apartment with a crowbar in my hands.

It was a rush to see his fear before I cracked it over his skull and shoved him into the driver’s seat before the flames engulfed further. I watched as the fire licked around him, destroying his body and taking his flesh.

I had someone from the syndicate ready to pick up the car and plant everything like he skipped town.

Loxley didn’t really care for the guy. He was a space filler, so she was more pissed off that he left without giving her the metal cookie sheet she lent him back.

But other than that, most of her boyfriends have been short term. They can’t keep up with her. She’s quick, always changing with the tide and exploring. She has a love for the unknown and they couldn’t handle it.

Her spirit drove me fucking wild. I wanted to be beside her through everything. The rush and thrill she gets from what’s coming is exhilarating and addictive for me.

Which is why I want to see just how deep that thrill goes. How would she feel to know someone is following her? Would she enjoy the hunt? Would she entice the monster lurking in the shadows out of curiosity?

There are endless possibilities and the delight of the chase is coursing through me. Pleasure and fear mix so well together and I know her surrender will be even sweeter.

I park outside of the quaint apartment building, humming a tune as I grab the security system from my bag and walk inside.

There’s a code for the elevators, but that’s not a problem.

Connor’s girlfriend, Alana, another tech for the syndicate, bypassed the shitty security of the building the day after Loxley moved in.

Typing in the four number code, I notice as someone enters the lobby. An older woman with white hair stops in her tracks, startling as she looks up at me.

I recognize her as the owner of the complex, pulling down my mask as I give her a charming smile. “Hey. How are you doing today, Mrs. Olivia?”

She blinks, her eyes squinting behind her thick glasses. “Do I know you? I’m sure I would remember you.”

The elevator dings and I hold up the security system in my hand. “No, but you know my girlfriend. Loxley just moved in and I came to set up her system while she’s at work.”

Her eyes widen in realization, “Of course! Go on up, dear!”

I give her one last smile as I squeeze into the cramped elevator. The ceiling is low and I have to duck down as I press the button for the third floor. The ride is quick and I shuffle out in search of unit thirty.

I pull the copied key from my pocket when I get to her door, still humming as I push it open.

I stop in my tracks as I take in the decor.

Everything in the unit screams Loxley. Her furniture is a part of a set, the maroon loveseat and reclining chair set off by the bright yellow blankets draped over them.

The mustard colored pillows are placed aesthetically in the corners of the couch.

There’s a thick, fluffy yellow rug in the center of the living room. A circular coffee table littered with books and candles rests atop it.

In the kitchen, a single pink coated cast-iron pot sits on the stove, but the counters are stacked high with baking pans and utensils. There are dainty little hand towels hung over the stove’s handle, making everything seem homey.

She has a few framed pictures hanging around the living room of her and her parents. Some have random people who, I’m assuming, are friends from Manhattan.

I venture further, wanting to sate my curiosity. There’s one bedroom and I don’t hesitate as I open the door to Loxley’s room.

Her light pink duvet looks plush and soft even though the bedding is ruffled like she bounced out of it without thinking of fixing it. There are still a few boxes of unpacked clothes near the closet, but I don’t care about any of it.

As I inhale, the scent of peppermint and vanilla makes me groan. My cock hardens and I know what I want to take first.

After these years, she still uses the same body wash. I go to the connected bathroom, flicking on the light and flooding the room. I pass the fuzzy decorative toilet covering and grab a clear bottle from the tub’s edge. I turn it over in my hands, reading the label.

Winter Sugar.

The name makes no fucking sense, but I’ve dreamed of this smell for years. I’ve tried to find something similar, but none of it was the same. Everything felt slightly off and I gave up after a while, determining that only the real shit would work. No matter how fucking stupid the name of it was.

I note the brand, pulling out my phone and snapping a picture. I want this shit smeared over everything I own, but a gift basket for my future wife will also ease over the horrid stalking and breaking and entering.

I hope.

Opening the lid, I take a deep breath, my eyes rolling back into my skull as I feel like an addict getting a hit of pure fucking cocaine.

I have half a mind to steal this bottle and use it later as lube, soaking my skin with her scent, but think better of it. I don’t want our game to end quickly. She’s bound to call the cops if she notices too many changes at once.

She’s a smart girl and the alarm system is already a stretch.

I place the soap back down on the tub’s lip and my reluctance to leave it behind is pathetic. It’s like a way of having her close without compromising anything.

I point at the inanimate object, “I’ll be back for you.”

I leave the bathroom and retreat to the living room before I do something stupid. I find a bookshelf next to the couch and use one of the higher shelves to plant the first camera. When it’s out of sight, I move to the kitchen.

I find a few good spots to hide the micro cameras before getting to work on the actual system.

Once it’s secured on her door, I link everything to my phone on a separate account that won’t alert Loxley when I turn the system off.

Everything was rigged up by Connor beforehand, so there should be no problems with keeping my girl in the dark during my home visits until I want her to know that I’m here.

I don’t place any cameras in the bedroom. Just the thought of spying on a woman while she’s in her room makes my fucking skin crawl. This is no different, but I don’t plan to watch her undress. This is purely for safety.

And maybe so I can see her while I’m out on hits.

I finish up, writing a small note on a generic sticky tab I found in the box in the kitchen before placing it over the screen of the monitor by the door. I lock up, leaving the building as I pull my balaclava back up and start my bike.