I’d been a killer for a majority of my life, surrounded by some of the vilest humans on the planet. I’d seen evil and knew what it looked like, how it moved and where it hid. If I performed my job appropriately and determined a man was evil, I would not entertain any doubt about ending his life. The world was better off without him, and I stood by that decision. I’d experienced self-doubt in the past and learned that it only brought about misery, and that was true of anyone in any profession.
Unlike some of my jobs where I lay in wait for hours, Chad did me the favor of calling it an early night. He let himself inside, humming softly like a chittering mouse, oblivious to the snake coiled nearby. When he passed the entry to the small kitchenette, I lunged for him.
It was almost too easy.
Chad had no self-preservation skills or survival instincts to rely upon. Instead, he froze in shock, making my job almost effortless. I came at him from behind, clasping one hand over his mouth. The other hand held an instrument to his neck that used ultrasound waves to inject medication without breaking the skin. It was important not to leave any signs of foul play.
Within seconds, the stiff form in my arms softened as the medication worked its way through his system. I carried him to the bed, making sure not to leave any bruises. At this stage, Chad was still conscious but unable to move a muscle.
“Succinylcholine,” I explained to the man trapped behind wide, unmoving eyes—awake and coherent but held prisoner inside his own body. “As you’re in pharmaceuticals, you’re probably familiar with the anesthetic. Normally, it’s used in combination with other medications for surgical procedures.” I lifted his leg and began to remove his dress shoes. “On its own, the drug induces paralysis and eventual asphyxiation. It’s got to be awful to be under the effects of such a powerful paralytic. To have things done to your body without your consent, all while you’re perfectly aware and unable to resist.” I tsked as I slid down his pants and draped them carefully over the desk chair by the window. Next, I pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his dress shirt while foam began to collect in the corners of his mouth.
“It’s an absolute nightmare but, in this case, rather fitting, wouldn’t you say? I bet plenty of defenseless little boys out there would agree with me.” I pulled the covers over his chest, as if tucking him in for the night, then hovered over his face so that our eyes could meet. “You’ve been very naughty, Chad. As you gurgle on your last breath, betrayed by your own body, I want you to understand that you did this. You brought this upon yourself.”
Before pulling away, I removed his contacts from his eyes, then placed them in their case in the bathroom. By the time I returned, Chad no longer had a pulse.
I took a picture as evidence and cleaned up after myself, ensuring the room looked perfectly undisturbed upon my departure. Using a technique I’d been taught many years before, I engaged the chain lock on the door as I left, making it look as though the room had been locked from the inside. The last touch, a “do not disturb” hanger on the door handle.
I had already ensured cameras were not in use in the hallways. I might have been seen on elevator cameras arriving on his floor, but there was no proof what room I’d visited. With my hands in my pockets and a lightness to my step, I slipped from the hotel without a trace.
Chapter 5
Emily
Friday’s class brought an onslaught of tension and awkward glances, at least as far as I was concerned. Tamir was his usual stoic self, totally unruffled and radiating cool confidence. I felt like the building furnace had malfunctioned and immersed the gym in a sauna-like heat. Judging by the fact that I was the only one drenched in sweat, the temperature spike was purely a personal problem.
I might have been a hot mess on the inside, but on the surface, aside from my fountain of sweat, I kept myself aloof and distant. Each time Tamir’s cutting dark eyes turned my way, they were met with an immovable iceberg of impassivity. A sweaty iceberg, but an iceberg, nonetheless. I was stronger than my desires and wouldn’t allow logic to be swept away under the guise of need. I might have wanted to explore the chemistry that sizzled between us, but that wasn’t what I needed. I didn’t need a man at all, but if I did open up to one, it would be to someone respectable and honest. Someone who wouldn’t put me right back where I started. Someone I could trust.
I wasn’t sure what that looked like, but I knew it wasn’t Tamir. He had secrets, and I couldn’t see how trust could be established on a foundation of lies and deceit.
With that in mind, I kept my distance the entire class. I didn’t even allow myself to look in his direction when it came time to leave. I grabbed my things and ran, hurrying home to spend my Friday night alone in my apartment.
Sometimes, when I was lonely, I got angry with myself for my situation. It had been my own doing, after all. I would drink or binge watch some inane television show, and when my pity party lost its appeal, I reminded myself why I’d left. Why it had been necessary to move myself across the country and cut myself off from everything I’d known. That was when I put my big girl panties on and admitted that I’d done the right thing.
A few months of solitude was worth the outcome, and it wouldn’t be forever. One day, I’d settle into my new life, and I’d be in a better place than where I started. One day. Until then, I spent the weekend alone, as I did most weekends, working and cleaning my apartment.
Monday was a long, grinding day at work. Traffic was slow, which left far too much time for internal retrospection. Tuesday wasn’t far off, but at least it allowed me enough time to run home after work and change before going to class. Most days, I was forced to change in the tiny restaurant bathroom and rush from work straight to the gym, but when the restaurant was half-empty, my boss sent me home early. I lived close enough to make the quick trip home before class.
My apartment was on the fourth floor in a mostly residential neighborhood. There were six apartments on each floor, and mine was one of the two farthest from the elevator. I’d gotten to know three of my neighbors although, admittedly, not well. There was a young family across the hall who was always on the go and paid me little mind, as I was outside their tornadic nucleus. Nearest the elevator was a middle-aged man who looked to be in finance or some other low-level white-collar gig. Both tenants were pleasant enough, but I usually just smiled and walked past when I saw them in the halls.
The apartment directly across from me was a different story.
Mrs. Timmons was an elderly woman who lived alone, except for her two Siamese cats. She reminded me of my tita although Tita had never been a cat person. She’d had a vicious little chihuahua named Taco. He was affectionate to the family, but the second an outsider stepped foot near our house, Taco went ballistic. Poor thing had the heart of a pit bull in the body of a rat. When Tita passed away, my father agreed to keep the dog but refused to allow it inside. In a matter of weeks, he got out of the rickety fence and came to grips with reality when he took on an actual pit bull.
It did not go well for Taco.
I adored my tita, crazy dog and all, so it came naturally for me to form an attachment to Mrs. Timmons. I enjoyed our little visits. If my tita had been alone in the city, I would have wanted someone to check on her for me.
On my way home, I knocked at the old woman’s door and waited for her to answer. As usual, her foggy eyes lit through the haze of cataracts when she greeted me.
“Sweet Emily! What a lovely surprise.” She reached for my hands and clasped them both, figuring out early on that I wasn’t exactly the hugging type. “You want to come in? I just got some new cherry sours.” She started to turn for her candy dish, but I stopped her.
“Actually, Mrs. Timmons—”
“Honey, I’ve told you, call me Grace.”
I smirked. “Grace, I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to be somewhere. I just wanted to check on you while I was home.”
“Always so busy! I remember those days. No need to worry about me, honey.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anything? I can swing by the grocery store on my way home later.”
“Thank you, dear, but I think I’m fine for now. Oh! I almost forgot. I got a glimpse of that visitor you had over earlier. He’s quite the looker!” She grinned devilishly and patted her perfectly set silver hair. “I just happened to be coming back from checking the mail when he was leaving and couldn’t help but notice.”
My stomach dipped and rose, churning its contents. Someone had been at my apartment? A man? Could he still be in there? No, she said she saw him leaving. But what if he came back? I struggled to swallow, my throat suddenly tight and dry.
“Um, did you see him come from inside my place? Or just walking down the hall?”
Grace’s eyes narrowed as she began to detect my discomfort. “Is something wrong, dear? I didn’t see him come from inside, but he definitely came from our end of the hallway. I assumed he was there for you because I certainly didn’t know him. Should I have called the police?”
“No, not at all. It just surprised me, that’s all,” I assured her. “I appreciate you letting me know, but I better change clothes and get going.”
More wrinkles gathered over her pursed brow. “Okay, if you say so. I’ll keep an eye out and let you know if he comes back.”
I forced a semi-genuine smile. “There’s really no need, but I appreciate you looking out for me. Have a good rest of your day.” The last thing I wanted was to make Grace worry about my safety or her own.
“You too, honey.”
I stepped out of her doorway and pulled her door shut behind me, then turned to my own door. Nothing looked any different. There were no signs of forced entry, and the door was locked when I tested it with my key. It was entirely possible a visitor had gone to the wrong floor or the man had been a solicitor even though they were not allowed inside the building. Sometimes a magazine salesman, or the like, found their way past the front entry.
I squashed the overwhelming sense of paranoia that had been ghosting me for days and made my way inside. My eyes carefully scanned the kitchen and into the living area, searching the contents for signs of tampering. Not one thing looked out of place.
It was official. I was losing my mind.
I rolled my eyes and hurried to my bedroom to change. Once I was ready, I grabbed my gym bag, which doubled as my purse on class days, and hurried out, making sure to lock my door before I left.
I arrived just minutes before the start of class and avoided eye contact with Tamir throughout the hour-long session, as was my new routine. I should have continued with that strategy and hightailed it out of there the second class was over, but of course, that’s not what happened. Those good old social norms kicked in when I noticed the cluster of pads, punching mitts, and shin guards spread across the back of the room and the mass of students rushing for the exit without helping to clean up.
Dios mío. My God.
What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just walk out with the rest of them and let Tamir clean up after us? He was getting paid, after all. I could almost feel my tita pinching the sensitive skin on the underside of my arm. The woman had trained me too well. Not smiling at strangers on a city street was a far cry from making someone else pick up a mess all by themselves. I couldn’t do it. I had to stay and help.
I hurried over to the pile farthest from Tamir and gathered items, then lugged them over to the storage bins. When I went back for a second load, he was leaning against the wall, eyes glued to me.
“You’re not running off today?” he asked with a hint of amusement.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I filled my arms again, keeping my eyes on my task.
He didn’t move to help me. Instead, he crossed his arms and waited for me to return. “Right … and the fact that you can hardly make eye contact with me is all in my imagination.”
Properly goaded, I lifted my gaze to his. “There, feel better?”
He didn’t even try to tame his serpentine grin. “Not by a long shot, but I will.” He bent over and picked up two of the large torso pads. “You have plans tonight?”
“I do, actually, which is why I have to get going.” I needed to get out of there before my heart pounded its way out of my chest. Why was Tamir putting me on the spot? Any other man would have accepted my avoidance and left me alone, but not him. He wasn’t giving me an inch of wiggle room.
“That’s what I figured,” he murmured as he walked toward the bins.
I didn’t respond. Grabbing my gym bag, I left the warmth of the studio for the crisp night air. Our awkward conversation left me swimming in questions. Why did it feel like he was trying to provoke me? Why couldn’t I have left right after class like everyone else? Were classes always going to feel that awkward in the future? Did I need to consider switching gyms?
The maelstrom of questions and internal debates occupied my complete focus, which was why I didn’t notice the hooded figure leaning against the wall at the entrance of an alley. A hand shot out and clasped my arm, yanking me to the side. When I looked up in surprise, I caught a brief glimpse of the man’s profile against the city streetlight. It was angular and harsh—the sharp features of pure ruthlessness.
“What the—” I didn’t get another word out. His warm, calloused hand clamped over my mouth from behind as he dragged me deeper into the shadows of the alley. I squirmed and thrashed, but between my shock and being unsteady as he tugged me along, I couldn’t come up with a single move to free myself.
“Peekaboo, I found you,” the man cooed near my ear just as he slowed enough for me to get my bearings.
His words sent unadulterated terror surging through my veins.
I’d been found. It only took three months.
I didn’t recognize the man, but he clearly knew who I was and knew I was on the run. Was he there to take me back? Or was he just going to kill me there in the alley?
My mind tried to launch into a chaotic panic, but I shoved it all into a back room in my brain, turned off the light and slammed the door shut.
This was no time to fall apart.
I had a matter of seconds before this man either killed me or captured me. I couldn’t let either of those happen.
Time stretched and yawned, dragging out each moment in clarifying detail, when in reality, our encounter only consumed a handful of seconds. In that oddity of time distortion, I flipped through my mental playbook of options and committed to my next move.
He held me in a type of bear hug, one hand over my mouth, the other gripping my chest tightly, both keeping me firmly pressed against him, with my arms forced down at my sides. I folded over with as much force as I could, bending at the waist, then slid my hips to the side to give my hand room to swing backward at his groin. I performed the series of movements in quick succession, catching my attacker by surprise and landing a perfect strike. He bellowed a curse, and his arms reflexively contracted backward, giving me room to yank myself free of his grasp.
It worked.
I had freed myself of his grasp but done so in a way that still left me trapped. The man stood doubled over between me and the street. My only chance at escape was to run past him and risk being captured again. I had no choice. I lunged forward and used all my force to push past him, but his iron grip clamped down over my wrist on my way past.
He yanked me back into the alley so hard, it felt like he had dislocated my shoulder. My natural instinct was to curl in on myself protectively as pain radiated down my arm, but he yanked me to him and pressed my front against the icy brick wall, one hand clamped over my mouth and the other grasping my hands behind my back.
The metallic taste of fear coated my tongue, and my breathing shuddered as sobs began to wrack my chest. But before the man could make his next move, a curse came from the mouth of the alley.
My attacker was yanked off me. I scurried a few steps away, but instead of running, I found myself watching in awe as my savior pummeled the other man. It was dark, and my rescuer
’s back was to me, but I could still see that he wore the same black track pants and red gym shirt he’d been wearing moments before in class.
It was Tamir. He’d saved me.
His strikes were perfectly clean, performed with expert precision. Like a machine. A killing machine. It was beautiful and terrible to behold. Nothing like what I witnessed in class. At full speed and with deadly intent, Tamir no longer resembled a dancer. He was a predator. Fierce and merciless.
The two men exchanged only a dozen parries before my hooded attacker collapsed to the ground, unconscious. At least, I thought he was unconscious.
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” I hissed.
Tamir slowly turned, his chest rising and falling at an accelerated rate—the only evidence he’d just been in a fight. “He just attacked you. Do you really care if he’s dead?”
“No … yes. Yes, I do.”
He closed the distance between us and looked me up and down. “Are you hurt?”
My breath caught in my throat, and my hand flew to my necklace for reassurance. “No, I’m fine. Let’s just forget this happened. I need to go.” I was doused in two competing emotions—terror and relief. Seeing Tamir there in the darkness, knowing he had stopped that man from doing God knew what, I desperately wanted to launch myself into his arms. But he’d nearly killed a man without a thought. The savagery in his black gaze terrified me, keeping me rooted in place.
“This man just tried to mug you. Don’t you want to call the cops?”
“No.” My response was immediate and absolute, which I knew sounded odd. Why the hell would a woman not want to call the police when she’d just been attacked? I began to pace. “Look, I’m fine. No harm done. I know it seems strange, but can you please just let it go?”
The possible consequences of my night cascaded like dominoes before me. Was this attacker the man who’d been at my apartment? Holy shit. What was I supposed to do now? How had this happened? If I’d been found this quickly, would I ever be free? Was there any point in relocating and trying again? Did I have any other option? Would I have to live the rest of whatever short life I had on the run?
Where Loyalties Lie: A Standalone Romantic Suspense Page 5
