by Dina Given
I wanted to say yes. I really did. Jason was amazingly good-looking, funny, charming, and I didn’t have to hide from him. We did the same thing for a living, so I didn’t have to lie to him about who I was … so why did I?
“I can’t do that to you, Jason. I can’t lead you on like that, not knowing if I will ever be able to return your feelings. It wouldn’t be right.”
With a bitter laugh, Jason responded, “Since when do you ever care about what is right? You’re the most amoral person I’ve ever met. It always amazed me that you joined the military when you have such a hard time doing the right thing and following orders.”
“Well, sometimes those orders are stupid. Anyway, that’s why I’m my own boss now, and I’m really good at what I do, morals be damned.”
“I don’t know if I find that hot or disturbing,” he deadpanned.
We both smiled, enjoying the momentary truce.
“Look, Em,” he said quietly. “I told myself I would be patient—I would wait for you to be ready. I wanted to let you come to me, but after this week … I don’t know. Maybe I just need to grab life by the balls and make it happen. So … So I thought I would try the more direct approach tonight.”
“I understand. Mexico was … different. It was strange and downright terrifying, like nothing we have ever experienced before.” I stared at the dark curtain in front of the table, losing myself in the memory. “Jason, when they had me tied down to that table, I thought that old woman was going to plunge a dagger through my heart, and my greatest fear wasn’t the actual dying part. It wasn’t even the pain, however fleeting that would be. It was the powerlessness. I was completely vulnerable and helpless, immobilized like that. I had no options left.”
While I began to drown in those feelings, Lacey chose to return with our drinks. As much as I disdained her, I could have given her a big sloppy kiss for her perfect timing. She didn’t offer any pleasantries, just roughly placed the drink on the table before me and spun away with a flip of her platinum hair. I greedily drained my entire glass, feeling like I needed it to swallow those roiling emotions that had threatened to overtake me.
It seemed to work. The heat of the alcohol burned through the worst of those feelings, leaving them a hard pit in my stomach. My head started to have a pleasantly fuzzy sensation, and those fears, inhibitions, and uncertainties began to fade into the background. I had a few drinks in me, and it had been a very long and insane week, capped by an emotionally charged conversation with Jason. I was feeling particularly weak in that moment.
Regardless of everything I had just said to Jason, I had a need to connect with someone who knew what I was going through, to have someone on my side telling me they were there for me and it was going to be okay. I was getting tired of holding up the wall between myself and the rest of the world. It would feel incredibly good to give in to him, to feel his warmth against me, his strong arms wrapped around my body, his full lips on mine. Perhaps I should just go home with him tonight and not worry about hurting his feelings. He was a big boy, after all.
I must have looked at Jason with more heat in my eyes than I had meant to convey because he responded in kind instantly. “Emma,” he said, his voice growing deep and husky with desire.
With no more warning than that, Jason grabbed me by the upper arms and drew me in to him. Without thinking, I tilted my head to the side, allowing him access to my mouth. He lightly brushed his lips against mine, giving me an opportunity to pull away should I want to. I didn’t.
I didn’t know what had come over me. Maybe it was simply the alcohol coursing through my system, dropping my inhibitions. Maybe it was because I was craving the warmth of human contact. Maybe it was because I needed to feel alive, especially in light of the events of the past week. Maybe it was all of those things. Regardless, I leaned into him and deepened the kiss.
He responded immediately.
It was a good kiss. His lips were soft. He was unhurried and controlled. His hands loosened their grip and gently made their way down to my waist. His arms wrapped around me, drawing me closer. I didn’t resist. My mind had gone blank. All I could think of was how good it felt, how easy it would be to simply give in to him. When I thought of what he might do to me, my skin burned with desire, and I pressed closer to him, forgetting all of my arguments against doing this.
Then they all came flooding back against my will. How would we be able to work together and make tactical decisions if we were in a relationship? We wouldn’t be able to remain objective. It would put both of our lives, including the lives of anyone else involved in a job, at risk.
However, even more than that, there was always something else holding me back. Although I cared about Jason, I could never make myself love him. A part of me refused to allow the emotion. I didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t the right guy for me, or if it was because I was incapable of loving someone. I feared it was the latter.
These thoughts came to me in a rush, and as they did, I pulled away from Jason. He looked dazed, his lips still swollen and red from our kiss. Then confusion and eventually frustration crossed his face. He didn’t need to say anything; I knew exactly what he was thinking. It must have shown on my face too, because he didn’t even attempt to talk to me about it.
Instead, he said, “Emma, you know how I feel about you. I don’t want to wait quietly on the sidelines while you figure this out in your head. I’m not giving you an ultimatum, because I will be here for you no matter what, but I am going back to my place. If you are interested in seeing where this could go, you can come over and spend the night with me.” Before I could react, he placed another urgent kiss on my lips, as if he was afraid it might be our last, and then slipped out of the booth and through the curtains.
What the holy hell was I supposed to do after that? Anxiety sprung up unbidden in my mind. Being in a real relationship with someone was much too dangerous. It was safer to form no romantic attachments. Doing so would not only save my life, but could save the lives of anyone else that cared about me.
How dare he put me in such a terrible position? Was I supposed to follow him just for the sake of not losing him? How could he ask me to make such an important decision with no time to consider it? Perhaps, if I really felt something for him, I wouldn’t need the time to consider it. I would just know. Or maybe that was merely something made up by Walt Disney and only happened in fairy tales. Shit! I could sit there all night, debating the pros and cons of this choice, and still not come to a decision. I simply needed to stop thinking and act.
I slid out of the banquette and moved purposefully through the curtains and into the main room of The Parlor. My feet carried me forward, but instead of taking me to the front door of Raines, they walked me straight into The Lounge. I needed another drink.
I found a waitress and ordered a dirty martini then made my way to the wood-burning fireplace and leaned against the mantle where I stared into the flames. My drink arrived in short order, and I took a sip, appreciating the perfect balance of dry and salty. I decided I would finish my drink then make my way outside to see where my feet took me.
Before I was able to take another sip, I felt the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. It felt as though an arctic breeze had blown into the room, sending shivers up my spine. I was being watched.
I took a breath, composing myself, and then very naturally turned to glance around the room, keeping a bored look on my face. My eyes skimmed past a man sitting on a Chesterfield sofa in the farthest darkened corner of the room. I stopped my gaze on two men standing nearby who were generally attractive and would have drawn my attention on any other night. I looked them up and down, assessing their assets, and then acted like I was dismissing them for one petty reason or another.
Then I allowed my eyes to rest upon the stranger in the corner. His gaze met mine, and I gave him a drunken smile.
Perhaps it was paranoia, but I wondered if he was here specifically looking for me. He seemed out of pla
ce in the room, and his expression held more curiosity than desire. Through years of experience, I had found paranoia kept me alive when I should have gone the way of the dodo. Taking a guess, I assumed he could have been one of Darko’s lackeys, trying to flush me out so Darko could finish what he had started.
I decided to try to find out what this guy’s ultimate plan was, hopefully without getting myself killed in the process. I made my way through the room toward him, purposefully weaving and “accidentally” bumping into one or two patrons along the way. His wary and calculating eyes followed me the entire time.
I stopped in front of him, jutting my hip out and placing one hand on my waist. I gave him a lopsided smile, perfectly playing the drunken girl looking for a one-night stand.
“Hi,” I slurred. “I couldn’t help noticing you sitting alone here and thought I would come join you. Do you mind if I sit?”
He didn’t speak, simply nodded his acquiescence. Now that I was close enough to get a better look at him, my instincts screamed he was dangerous. He probably stood a couple of inches shy of six feet and was lean. He sat very still and controlled, ramrod straight, giving me the impression of someone with personal discipline who knew how to handle himself. His hair was cut short, almost in military style, and his eyes were a stark ice blue, not revealing anything of what might be going on inside his head. His nose was narrow, and he had high cheekbones. His sharp jaw was covered with a closely trimmed beard. Overall, he would have been an attractive man if it weren’t for his seriously intense demeanor.
I took a seat next to him on the Chesterfield, close enough so my thigh touched his, and placed my hand just above his knee, trying to throw him off a little with the physical contact. It seemed to work because he blinked when I touched him and started to pull away slightly.
“I haven’t seen you here before, and I’m here all the time,” I giggled and then delicately hiccupped. “What’s your name?”
While he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, I got a sense of cruel satisfaction at watching him squirm. “Alex,” he answered.
“Hi, Alex. I’m Jasmine,” I lied. “It’s very nice to meet you.” I slid my hand a couple of inches higher on his thigh. He shifted uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted desperately to escape. “Do you maybe want to get out here? My place is only a few blocks away,” I drawled.
If Alex left with me, I would try to lure him to a less populated area of the city where I could question him and then take him out without anyone noticing. I just had to hope he wasn’t some monstrous creature in disguise.
As Alex turned to face me and stared at me hard, his frozen gaze boring into mine, I tried to keep my eyes unfocused like I was inebriated and let out another little giggle. I leaned into him to place a sloppy, drunken kiss on his lips.
He immediately pulled back and stood up. “Thanks, but no. I have other plans tonight.”
I stood quickly, purposefully losing my balance, and he grabbed my arm to keep me upright, allowing me to measure his strength. He would be formidable in a fight, although not as strong as those creatures I had encountered in Mexico. I was willing to bet he was no more than your above average human from a physical strength perspective. However, he carried himself as if he were skilled in combat, so I would need to catch him off guard to get the upper hand if it came to that.
I acted indignant at his rejection, spinning on my heel and stalking away unsteadily. As I approached the exit, I gently placed my drink down on a table, straightened my back, and confidently sauntered out with a small smile on my face. I knew he was going to follow me, and I was going to be ready for him.
My soft boots were silent on the pavement as I made my way quickly and purposefully toward a quieter area of the city. This neighborhood was free of sidewalk cafes, bars, and restaurants that would draw large crowds of diners and partygoers. Instead, it was mainly a residential neighborhood, but in a poorer part of town.
The sidewalks were partially blocked by black bags of trash waiting for pick-up, and in the warmth of the night, the odor was heavy in the air. Empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, and other detritus had collected along the curbs and in the gutters.
The buildings were stark and lifeless, missing the colorful flowers, plants, and strings of lights that were commonly seen on apartment building balconies throughout the city. An old collection of battered-looking cars were lined up like soldiers beside the curb. The street was devoid of life except for one resident sitting on the front steps of his apartment, drinking a forty ounce out of a paper bag, and he didn’t pay any attention to me or anything else going on in the neighborhood. No one around here would ever call the cops if they heard suspicious noises outside of their windows. They trusted the cops less than they did the criminals.
There were a few narrow alleyways between apartment buildings that were dark, damp, and smelled of rot. No one in their right mind would ever purposefully wander down one … except for me that is. I knew this area fairly well. I had scoped it out a couple of years ago, looking for places close to my apartment where I might need some privacy for purposes such as this one. Those in my line of work tended to find themselves the target of revenge-seekers every once in a while, and there had been a few occasions when someone had unsuccessfully attempted to follow me home. I slowed my steps and kept walking in a deceptively drunken unsteadiness down the street, listening hard for the footsteps I knew would be behind me.
Ah! There they were. Click, clack, click, clack. Men were so predictable.
I didn’t want to give away that I had heard him, so I maintained my casual pace, appearing oblivious and unworried to the danger following me. As I got closer to the corner of the block, I turned right into an alleyway then let out a noisy sound of frustration, giving the impression I had mistakenly turned down this way when I had really meant to take the right turn at the corner only a few feet beyond the alley entrance.
I stopped walking and threw my hands up in exasperation. I heard someone approach from behind and slowly, deliberately turned to face Alex.
Except it wasn’t Alex standing before me.
This man exuded deadly intent, with anger and maliciousness rolling off him in waves. It wasn’t the first time a man had looked at me like that, but something else about him disturbed me. I couldn’t put my finger on it; it confused me.
The seconds dragged into years as we stood glaring at each other. He didn’t so much as twitch or blink, eyeing me like I was a particularly complex puzzle he was trying to figure out. The entire time, he gave me no excuse to pull my gun and blow him away. Why hadn’t he tried to take me by surprise and attack me while my back had been turned?
He watched me with black eyes as deep as pools of midnight oil, tinged with a little hatred and a lot of crazy. He was dressed in black from head to toe: black leather pants and a tight, black T-shirt that showed off a defined chest and arms as well as a narrow waist. His clothing was covered in some sort of odd body armor that actually looked like a thin layer of black chain mail. The entire ensemble was covered by a long, leather coat which made me think of The Matrix. How very cliché. It also looked out of place on such a warm night, until I noticed it was purposefully being used to hide something he had strapped to his back that I couldn’t quite make out. His dark hair was long, cascading to his shoulders in light waves, a few strands falling into his eyes. He would actually be quite beautiful in his ferocity if it weren’t for the scary, haunted look in his eyes.
When he finally spoke, it was in a voice that was lighter and more pleasant than I had expected to hear coming from someone who looked like him. “Do you know me?” he asked.
I took a moment and scrolled through the bad guy database in my head, coming up blank. I was certain I had never seen him before yet weighed my options carefully. I had no qualms about lying. After all, it was almost a pre-requisite for my job. However, they were usually educated lies so I wouldn’t get caught. Getting caught in a lie was simply bad for business, not to mention bad
for survival. If I appeased him by telling him I did remember him, I wouldn’t have any information or knowledge to back up that statement. I feared that, regardless of the answer, I would set off a hair-trigger response in him, and things would descend into chaos very quickly.
I didn’t really have much of a choice; therefore, I shook my head very slowly in the negative. “No,” I whispered, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
His eyes closed briefly, and an odd expression of sadness and relief crossed his face so quickly I thought I might have imagined it. When he opened his eyes a moment later, though, any humanity I had seen in them was gone. They were filled with merciless malice. A sneer crossed his full lips, and I felt unexpectedly hurt to see it on his face.
Anticipating violence, I casually shifted into a fighting stance.
“Take her,” he said seemingly to no one in particular, but I could feel that prick at the back of my neck.
Turning around, I saw dark forms detach themselves from the shadows, like grease oozing down a wall. I immediately placed my back to the wall where I could keep a view of Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsomely-Insane as well as whatever was about to come for me. As I did so, I slipped my right hand under my peasant top and pulled a handgun fitted with a silencer from my waistband, sliding off the safety and chambering a bullet.
New York had some of the toughest gun laws in the country, and I followed them all. I had licenses for all my guns, a permit to carry a concealed weapon, and I didn’t keep any assault weapons within state borders. I was happy to comply with the law because it also meant it was harder for the criminals to access illegal weapons. Sure, the more powerful scum of the city could manage to skirt the laws, but only a relatively small handful could manage it. As a result, I didn’t come up against such powerful assault weapons very often, which was one of the benefits of living in New York.
