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"I like you, in my t-shirt." his voice was low. Dark. Hot.
"I prefer it on the bedroom floor." I tease, although, it wasn't really a joke.
"Ah, you make this so hard for me." he sounded angry, yet he never raised his voice.
"What's...
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I knocked on the door for a second time. No answer
"Just go in," Anastasia said through my earpiece. "It's not locked," she continued as I sighed due to her not telling me sooner.
I pushed open the depressed looking door and not to my surprise, was met with a deserted hallway. Its dark dusty floors creeked under foot and the faint sound of conversation could be heard coming from the door beside me.
Without a second thought I barged in there which created an echo of loading guns and men getting redy to attack.
"Mr Ortega, I would appreciate it if next time I knock, you answer." I stated nonchalantly at the man sitting confidently in an armchair among a sea of men.
His face quivered slightly, not enough for anyone but me to notice, as he stared blankly at me not saying a word. I could tell by his face he was confused but no words were leaving his lips.
"Cat got your tongue?" I asked in a taunting manner, a sly smile grew on my face as his silence filled the room, "Cecilia Rodriguez" I said, extending my right hand for him to shake. He didn't move, "I'm here for my money and I need it now so if you could be so kind and please hurry the fuck up." I smiled at him.
His eyes moved to his men then back to me and, very expectedly, they began to charge at me.
I menoverd my way in and out of poorly fired bullets while dodging flying fists. I ducked comfortably escaping the knife that was lobbed at my head. I turned and yanked it out of the wall throwing it right into the eye of the unlucky man in front of me.
A small little man charged at me, he came hurtaling at me and when he met me I swung him over my head crashing him into the decaying window.
Fists were being thrown at every inch of my body yet I spun around them all. I caught and blocked every single punch and kick directed at me and after only a few minutes most of them were out cold.
The slow heavy breathing of the fallen soldiers filled the room as a low steady clap echoed through my ears. I looked to my right to find Mr Ortega sat in that same armchair as he was seated in earlier. His eyes were dark and his grin was mean. He sat staring at me deeply chuckling to himself.
Next to him was a briefcase, that I could only assume had the money I was here for inside it. He carefully picked it up and placed it in my hand and instantly-due to its weight- I knew it did not contain the right amount.
A surge of anger coursed through my veins at this man's audacity. I don't care about the money, I didn't need it, I have plenty of it.
