by Kelly Moore
I know they won’t let me go, especially after this. Hired to kill someone but saving her instead? My life from here on out will be filled with running and staying hidden so they can’t find me.
Not wanting to tell her all that, I change the subject. “Why don’t we head down to the beach? Give me a chance to see that sexy ass in that black bikini.”
She grins and stands to go get changed.
Twenty minutes later, we’re on the beach and damn, I was right. That black bikini looks amazing on her. Her breasts are spilling from the cups perfectly, not too much, but just enough. Her stomach is flat and toned, and my eyes don’t want to move from the small V that leads down to her bikini bottoms. Until she turns around that is because her ass looks just as good as the rest of her. God, I wish I could keep this woman.
I have a sinking feeling with that thought, reminding myself that she won’t be mine for much longer. I’ll have to let her go; she has more important things to do with her life than to waste it with me, a hired killer.
I stand back and watch as she runs through the water, kicking up water and sand. Her red hair is blowing in the wind and the look on her face is priceless. The serious expression that has been etched on her face since we met is gone, instead replaced by fun, love, excitement, and a carefree attitude. She yells for me to join her, but when I don’t move quickly enough for her liking, she runs toward me and jumps into my arms, pushing me backward until we fall in the sand.
She’s on top of me with her brilliant red curls falling down in my face, her bright white teeth fully visible with her wide smile. “Come on, John. Come play with me.” She takes my hand and pulls me up to my feet, and I chase her into the water.
She runs ahead of me until the water is deep enough to dive, then she’s gone. Just like that. Just like what I know will happen long before I want it to.
I feel her brush my leg, and I allow myself to sink down into the water where I grab her up. I stand with her clinging to my body. She has her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips. I push her red hair away from her face and look into her beautiful dark eyes before slowly moving in to feel her lips against mine.
For almost an hour, we stay in the water, wrapped up in each other, just talking and kissing. When we both find ourselves tired from fighting against the waves, and hungry, we walk back up the beach to the house.
“Let’s get cleaned up and go get some dinner. I’m so hungry I would eat you at this point,” she teases.
I chase her upstairs and tackle her onto the bed. “Well, I’m not stopping you. Go for it, take a bite, but I get to pick which part you nibble on first.” I waggle my eyebrows at her in a teasing way. I know she’s serious about her food and know there is no hope for me.
She smacks at my chest. “Get off of me. You aren’t getting anything from me until you feed me.”
“Fine,” I say, rolling off her.
She jumps up and runs for the connected bathroom.
While she showers off, I go and check on Jake again. He’s wide awake when I walk in.
“Hey, so did you get her in that bikini after all?”
I smile widely. “I sure did, and it’s almost as good as seeing her without it if you know what I mean.”
He laughs, but the laugh is cut off by a deep cough. He holds his chest until he settles down.
“Not too much longer and you’ll be feeling better than ever,” I tell him.
“The day can’t come soon enough.”
“We’re getting ready to run to get some dinner. Do you want me to bring you anything back?”
He thinks it over. “Where are you going?”
“I think I’m going to take her to Fat Tuesday’s. I’m craving their fried crab claws.”
“Bring me back the Big Kahuna burger and onion rings.”
“Getting your appetite back, huh?”
“I’m starving.” He nods.
“Alright. We won’t be gone long. Get some more rest.” I stand and make my way back to the bedroom to gather my clothes for when she gets out of the shower.
The place is packed when we arrive. We put in our order and sit back, having a drink.
“This drink is amazing,” she says around her straw while she’s sucking up some sort of pink mixed drink. “You’ve got to try this.”
I pick up my Coors Light. “I think I’ll stick to my beer, thanks.”
She sits up and checks me out. “I love that shirt on you.”
“Yeah, well I hope you’re enjoying it because as soon as we get home, it’s coming off. It’s way too hot for a black dress shirt even with the sleeves rolled up.”
She rolls her eyes. “Alright, but I want to be the one to take it off of you.”
“Deal.”
The waitress brings us a refill while we wait for our food, and I excuse myself to use the restroom. I lean against the wall and wait in the long line.
Ten minutes later, I’m walking back to our table where our food sets, but Brooklyn is gone.
I scan the bar quickly, but my eyes never find her. I rush back to the bathrooms, thinking I must have missed her. The lines have only grown more and I know I can’t slip into the women’s restroom unnoticed, so instead, I push the door open and yell her name. She doesn’t answer. I rush back through the bar with my thoughts racing. Have they found us? Did they take her? Surely they couldn’t have taken her in a crowded bar, could they? She had to have walked out with them to keep from being noticed.
I rush out of the doors and bump into her. “What the fuck are you doing? Do you know how worried I was? I thought they found us.” Even with my anger running wild through me, I grab her and pull her to my chest, just needing to feel her against me.
“I’m sorry. I’m fine.”
I pull her away but keep her at arm’s length. “What were you doing?”
“I saw a pay phone and wanted to call my dad and check in. I didn’t think it would take long, but his secretary didn’t believe it was me.”
“You shouldn’t have called. They could’ve traced your call.” I pull her back inside the bar and flag for the waitress.
“Is something wrong with your food?”
“No, not at all. Could we get it bagged up to go?”
“I’ll get you some boxes.” She walks away quickly.
Brooklyn leans in. “I don’t think we need to worry, John. This is a busy street; anyone could’ve made that call.”
“How many people do you think call the White House on a pay phone on Duval Street?”
“I didn’t call the White House. I’m not stupid. I called his personal line.” She rolls her eyes like a child that’s being punished.
“I’m not taking any chances. We’re getting out of here now.”
The waitress brings us back some boxes, and I rush to put the food in the containers. When they are packaged up, I put the containers into the bag with Jake’s food. “Let’s go.”
I take her hand and damn near pull her from the bar. We jump on the bike and take off, leaving the crowd behind us.
“Here’s your food,” I tell Jake when we walk in and find him in the kitchen, going through the cabinets.
He takes the bag and sits at the table.
Brooklyn takes our food and sets it down before moving to the fridge for a beer. “I don’t know why you’re so mad at me. I just wanted to call my dad.”
“Do you realize what you’ve done? They could be on their way here right now.”
She rolls her eyes and sits to eat.
“What’s going on?” Jake asks.
“I leave her alone for ten minutes and she goes and tries to get us all killed.” I’m pacing the kitchen floor, seething mad.
“You think they know where we’re at?” Jake asks.
“I don’t want to risk it. I think we all need to pack up tonight so we can hit the road in the morning. Do you think you’ll feel up to it?” I stop and look at Jake.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll take the Range Rover. I don
’t have the balance for a bike. Plus, then you won’t have to worry about packing everything on a bike,” he says around a mouthful of burger.
I nod, not happy about the whole situation. This was my plan B. I never made a plan C. Nobody knew about this place. It was my safe house. Now that it’s been compromised, it’s not safe anymore, and we have to get as far away as we can.
We eat dinner and clean up the kitchen, making sure to throw away any food that could spoil because I don’t know when I will make it back here, and start packing. Brooklyn is throwing her things into a bag while I do the same. We haven’t talked much since she made that phone call and I hate that we’re fighting, but she’s not taking this seriously. She needs to understand what’s at stake here. Her life. Jake’s life. My life, even though I’m not worried about mine. I don’t deserve to live as long as I have.
I watch as she slips into a pair of short cotton shorts and a tank top before stuffing the clothes she was wearing into the bag and zipping it up.
“I’ll put the things in the Rover now, so we won’t have to worry about it in the morning.”
I grab our bags and stick my head in Jake’s room for his and make my way downstairs and into the garage. I throw all the bags in the back when I hear the crunching of gravel.
Fuck. Someone’s found us.
I rush around the front of the car and reach for the gun that I keep hidden. I reach under Grandpa’s old workbench and find it strapped to the table. When I have the gun cocked, I slowly walk to the doorway and peek outside to see a black SUV. The driver steps out and moves quickly to the back door. He opens it, and I take aim, ready to shoot whoever steps out.
My finger is on the trigger, and my heart and breathing are calm, ready to take out the target.
I see the man get out, placing his shiny dress shoes on the concrete, then he steps out from behind the door.
It’s Brooklyn’s dad.
It’s the president of the United States.
Chapter Eleven
John
I quickly put the gun back in its hiding place, then make my way back over to the door. I raise my hands in the air so that the CIA agent can see that I’m not armed. When he sees me, he raises his gun in my direction.
“Stand down,” the president tells him. “Are you John Remington?” he asks, staying a step behind the agent.
“Yes I am, President Warren, sir.” I stand tall and walk closer to him. “Brooklyn is here and safe for now. How did you get here so quickly?”
He walks within a few feet of me with his agent next to him, his gun pointing toward the ground. “I was in Miami when she contacted me. I took a private jet here so that I wouldn’t be followed. For the brief moment that we spoke, she spoke very highly of you.” He extends his hand for me to shake it.
I stare at it for a moment. She obviously didn’t tell him that I’m a hitman or he wouldn’t want to be shaking my hand. I decide to go with it and firmly shake his hand in return. “Thank you, sir. Your daughter is a smart and brave young woman.”
He smiles with pride. “Yes, she is. I came here because I need to tell her something that I didn’t want to tell her on the phone or for her to see on the television.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you find this place? Did you have it tracked from the pay phone she called you from?”
He laughs. “No, it was much easier than that. Brooklyn gave me your address. She wanted me to have it in case something happened to her that I could find you.”
“I’m afraid her phone call may have put us all in jeopardy. I was loading up the Range Rover with our bags to get out of here tomorrow.”
“You might want to delay your escape for the time being. I think there are more issues that need to be dealt with. Besides, I can get some more men down here to protect all of you.”
“That would be greatly appreciated, sir. It will give us more time to come up with plan C, since Brooklyn kind of blew plan B out of the water by disclosing our location to you. No offense, sir.”
“None taken.” He laughs again.
A high-pitched squeal comes from behind me. We both turn to see Brooklyn running down the steps of the house, headed straight toward us. “Daddy!” she yells, almost knocking him over by hugging him tightly.
“Hey, Brooky.” He kisses her cheek.
“Brooky.” I chuckle.
“Don’t even think about it.” She points a long finger at me. “My dad is the only one that can get away with calling me that.”
“Why don’t we take this little reunion inside?” I wave in the direction of the house.
“Nice place you have here, John. I’d love to see it in the light of day.” He walks arm in arm with his daughter into the house.
“God, I know. I love this place,” Brooklyn says.
The agent scopes out the downstairs as they sit on the couch, and I take the chair across from them. “Can I get you anything to drink, Mr. President?”
“Call me Matthew, please. I’d love a cold beer if you have one.”
Brooklyn hops up. “Daddy loves PBR,” she looks over her shoulder and winks at me.
“Mr. Pres…Matthew, I’m sure your daughter has told you that both of you are in danger. I know that you have men to protect you, but these men are actively hunting her.”
He leans forward on the couch, placing his elbows on his knees. “What exactly do you do for a living, John?”
“He’s a hitman,” Brooklyn says, bouncing back into the room, handing her father a beer. The CIA agent pulls his gun from his holster and aims it in my direction.
I’d like to kill her myself right about now. My gaze is burrowing into her skull as she sits beside him and smiles at me.
“Hold on there, cowboy.” She gets up and pushes his gun down. “I should clarify that he was a hitman, but he fell in love with your beautiful daughter and changed his ways. He’s rescued me more than once now. I totally trust him with my life.” She tips her bottle and takes a swig of beer.
I hold my breath, waiting for his response. He doesn’t take a drink of beer but sets in on the coffee table. “Is that true? Are you in love with my daughter?” His eyebrows turn downward.
I clear my throat. “Right now I would call it more of a love/hate relationship.”
Brooklyn spews her beer laughing. The president’s scowl deepens, and he places two fingers on his forehead and applies pressure.
“I know the feeling very well. She’s always been a handful,” he says through tight lips.
I sit back in my chair and smile at her, relaxing for just a moment.
“But, that doesn’t make me feel any better that my daughter trusts her life to a hitman,” he says, sitting back up and staring me square in the eyes.
So, much for relaxing. “I understand your concern. Since your daughter,” I spit out the T, “has so abruptly disclosed my occupation, please know, that I only kill the bad guys. I was hired to kill your daughter for a very high profit, I might add, but when I found out who she was, I wanted to protect her from the men that employ me. They don’t have any morals like I do. I could never harm an innocent person.”
Brooklyn sits crossed-legged on the floor in front of me. She places her beer on the table and then takes my hands and placing them on her shoulders. “John is a good man, Daddy. I need you to trust me on this.”
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Is that the president of the United States sitting in our living room?” Jake is standing at the foot of the stairs. The gun-happy CIA agent swings his gun toward him.
The president stands and looks back and forth between the two of us. “That’s Jake, John’s twin brother,” Brooklyn tells him.
Jake looks like hell, but he doesn’t let that stop him from greeting him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. Your daughter here is a spitfire and man can she eat.”
The president chuckles out loud. “I see you’ve gotten to know my daughter pretty well.”
“How are you feeling, Jake,”
Brooklyn asks.
“I think I’m on the upside of the vaccine,” he says, sitting on the couch.
“You gave him the vaccine?” the president asks, pointing at Jake.
“Yes, I did. Jake has had cancer for several years. I made an agreement with John that if he kept me safe, I would cure his brother. Besides, I like him better than John.” She looks up at me, batting her eyes and offering up a wide smile.
“I knew it,” Jake says, cracking up and pumping his fist in the air.
“While I have rather enjoyed the banter amongst the three of you, I have news on the vaccine, and it’s not good.” He shakes his head and grimaces. “I don’t see a television here, so I’m assuming you haven’t seen the news.” He sits back down on the couch. Jake slides over giving him room.
“What is it, Daddy?” All fun and amusement have left her face, drawing her brows together like her father did earlier.
“Out of the two thousand people that have received the vaccine, two hundred have died from it. That’s ten percent of the people that received it. They are pulling it off the market and investigating your company.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “I’ve managed to call in some favors and have kept the formulation under wraps for now, but it will only be a matter of time before they get their hands on it.”
Brooklyn is on her feet. “That can’t be right.” She’s pacing the length of the room. “I did study after study, and the only time a lab rat died from it was if it didn’t have any cancer cells.” She’s making her second loop around the room. She lets out an audible gasp. “That’s it!” she says, walking back over to her father.
“What’s it?” he asks.
“The oncologists are in cahoots with the pharmaceutical companies.”
“I’m not following you.” He places his hands on the outside of her arms.
