Page 5 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

I’m hoping she’ll get another break to talk to us, but it picks up again, and her and her coworker go back to trying to keep up with the line of customers. I can’t deny that I’m disappointed, but we’ll be back. Our old coffee shop closed down, and this is our third try at finding a new one. It’s not solely my decision to make, but I like this place.

When we leave, I wave at Wren, and she catches it just in time to give me a frazzled smile before turning back to the espresso machine. It doesn’t mean anything—probably, anyway—but my imagination always runs wild. Regardless, next Friday can’t come soon enough.

Chapter two

Elliot

“Could this guy be any more boring?” Rhett grumbles.

I nod in response even though he can’t see me. We’re lurking near the tree line on our target’s property, shrouded in darkness. He lives in a large cabin that’s pretty far outside of Philadelphia’s city limits. The lack of light pollution out here provides us with easy cover as we watch him through his windows.

With a sigh, I glance at my watch. He’s been watching talk shows for the past two hours. Before that, he came home from work, showered, and made himself a microwave dinner.

The movies make out professions like ours to be full of action and drama. And sure, being a hitman can have some of that, but for the most part, it’s boring as hell. I don’t mind gathering intel and researching our targets, but stakeouts like this one? God, I hate them.

Rhett shifts from foot to foot. “Remind me again why we can’t just kill him right now.”

“Because that’s only half the job. You know that.”

Rhett grumbles something under his breath. I don’t catch the words, but the meaning is apparent anyway.

This job is a little different than the ones we normally take. First, we have to wait around to make sure we have the right guy. Only once we have confirmation do we take him—and his business partner—out. We could’ve turned the job down,but it earns us the trust of a man we need to get close to, so we didn’t hesitate to agree to his terms. It’ll be worth it, but goddammit, I just want to go home.

It takes another half-hour, but then headlights shine up the driveway, followed by the sound of gravel crunching under tires.

Neither of us move as the vehicle comes to a stop, opting to watch through our night vision binoculars as a middle-aged man steps out of the parked SUV. He’s carrying a duffel bag that’s stuffed to the brim.

“That’s gotta be him,” Rhett murmurs.

I turn slightly to peer through our target’s living room windows again. He must’ve noticed the car because he’s up from his spot on the couch and moving through the house. I search for any signs that this is an unexpected visitor, but our guy is walking toward the back door with all the confidence in the world.

“Ready?” I ask quietly.

We already have our rifles set up on their respective rests. Everything is ready to go. We just need to wait until we have clear shots of both men, and then we can get the hell out of here.

“Ready.” Rhett steps into position, peering through his scope and aiming.

I follow suit, watching as our original target opens his door. He has a large folder in his hand, and his gaze tracks the duffel bag with a greedy look.

The two men exchange nods and then trade off the bag and the folder. It’s the moment we’ve been waiting for, and the second it’s done, we both shoot.

The gunshots echo throughout the forest as both men drop, their bodies landing on the porch. The bag and folder plummet to the floor, both opening on impact. Papers and cash fly out, and the wind picks them up and blows them across the yard.

Wordlessly, Rhett and I pack up our gear. We already have everything planned out—who would shoot who, how quickly we leave, who drives on the way home, and who makes the phone call to Ludo.

As soon as we’re ready, we jog through the woods, and when we reach my SUV, Rhett slides into the driver’s seat. Once he’s on the road, I dial Ludo’s number.

“It’s done?” he asks after picking up. He doesn’t even sound tired.

“Yep. Left everything as-is.”

“Good. It’ll send the perfect message.”

The line goes dead, and I roll my eyes.Asshole.

“He happy?” Rhett asks. His voice is rough, and his jaw is tight.

“As much as he ever is.” I scroll through the notifications on my phone, pausing when a text message crosses my screen.