Cold Silk

3. Charlotte

RADIO STATIC
AFI - Miss Murder

Balls.

I click the end call button on the Bluetooth attached to my ear. Maze had filled me in on the minor details that had the potential to blow up in my face if I was found out. The fact that she'd felt the need to tell me anything has my blood pumping with anticipation.

I'm not a fucking idiot. I know there are some things that Killian has kept from me. Fuck, even Maze, my closest friend, had some things that she can't tell me for whatever reason. I've never seen Killian as out of sorts as I'd seen him the other night when he'd finally given me my assignment.

It's not my regular job. I'm usually a short-term, infiltrate, keep my head down and then shoot the fuckers that dared to fuck things up for Kill, kind of job. This one I'm going to have to be seen. Something that I haven't allowed in years.

I suck in a deep breath of fresh air, urging my bike through traffic and easing into the suburban area that would be my home for the next little while.

Birds chirp in the early morning air, the sun peeking over the horizon cast a warm glow over the suburban street as I drive. Taking in the picture-perfect houses around me with dismay until I pulled my bike into the driveway of the address Killian rented under my name. It just so happens to be directly across the street from the house I'll be watching—the one with both people I'll be taking care of shortly.

The scent of lilacs drifts on the breeze as I turn off the engine. I was eyeing the home in front of me with trepidation. I've never stayed in a house by myself before. I live in a small condo on the side of one of Killian's buildings, where I'm entirely content.

The last time I stayed in a house, I was still in foster care.

Hard as a diamond baby, and just as shiny.

I hear the words in my head as if they'd been spoken right next to me. My memory of the person has dimmed with time, but I still remember the deep bass of his voice and the steel grey of his eyes. The ache in my chest is palpable as the memory of deep laughter, and the scent of cedar threatens to take over.

I shrugged the memory away. No use getting stuck in the past.

As I pulled the helmet off while I snatched the keys from the ignition, I looked around at the neighborhood. I hadn't lived on this street, but one of my fosters had lived a few blocks over, and the thought of being so close gives me chills.

I'll need to build my cover, mingle with the locals, and hope to fuck that no one recognizes me from before my military contract took me away.

Worst case scenario: they do, and I kill them, then I'll have to rush with the rest. Best case: I kill both Damien Knight and Arlene Harper and go my merry way in a blood-soaked sunset without having to spend a single night in this godforsaken home. Something tells me that's wishful thinking.

"Hello!"

The voice sounded feminine, musically pitched, and seemingly directed at me.

Well fuck.

I turned, pasting a smile on my face in greeting as a small curly-haired brunette jogged over wearing a lime green tracksuit that hugged her generous curves nicely. She pulled the white headphones from her ears, leaving them to hang off her neck as she approached me. I noticed the indents and where she kept her weapons right away.