Fight or Flight

Chapter Twelve

POV ASHTON

I have an unending urge to rip someone apart, unfortunately I'm not a homicidal maniac yet, so I have to settle with people who actually earn their demise.

Shiloh Reyes, that little bastard. The rainstorm that delayed my flight last week may very well have been a blessing in disguise. Something about this man is truly unhinged, and not in the good way. He started becoming more persistent, persistence in the form of thinly veiled threats. 

Threats I can handle, threats from Reyes are a joke to me. Well they would be, except for starting two days ago some of my men have been going missing.

The first day it was two, if it had been one i wouldn't have batted an eye. Two in the same day, off the radar, no trace left behind. Then yesterday it was three.  One of whom was obvious, this man never even so much as came in late a day in his life. 

He's playing a real dangerous game with the wrong person, and he's a bigger idiot than i thought if he thinks he can win.

Faerah's been working day and night trying to pick up some clue of where he took my guys. Scouring hours of footage trying to find face ID on traffic cameras, ATM cameras and even convenience store parking lots in the approximate areas. Nothing.  

This shit makes me remember why I pay her so much.

I look at the time and shake my head. It's almost midnight and as much as I would love to go to bed I have at least 3 more hours of paperwork to do. Thankfully all the hard work is done, a lot of what's left it is my legitimate company paperwork.

I lean back in my chair and look at the security monitors, a paranoid habit I developed years ago and a small smile slips onto my face when I spot her in the attic. I've noticed that on nights she cant sleep she goes to the attic wrapped in a blanket, where she's used two old chairs to form a make shift lounge area.

She never does anything up there but smoke weed, a lot of weed using a used soda can as an ashtray while looking out the window. Tonight however, is different. She does her regular routine, lighting up the joint after getting comfortable but then she leans forward, putting her head in her hands.

A frown falls in place of the smile when I see her shoulders start to shake. Is she crying?

I've watched this girl on the monitors all week, at first it was because I wanted to make sure she wasn't digging around in shit she shouldn't be, looking for anything that was suspicious. Then she became my main source of amusement.

I watch her do her daily tasks and the only way to describe it is organized chaos. Her mornings are spent with a birds nest on top of her head, an iced coffee and a smoke on the patio swing. She showers then stops by the kitchen for toast which she eats on the way to the training centre.

My teeth grind when I see my men openly stare at her ass when she shows them various drills to  sharpen their competencies. I almost held a private meeting to ask them if I pay them to stand around and eye fuck her. Instead I had Dev type up a memorandum and send it in mass text, basically stating she was off limits.

My logic is that if things work out the way I want them too, she might be the key to establishing an alliance that can further my steadily growing empire. Over my dead body will I let someone touch her, she's mine.

Whatever else Nova may be, she's certainly casting her spell around here. I'm not sure if its intentional yet or if she's just naturally endearing, but I'll continue to watch until I'm sure.

Faerah likes her, Faerah doesnt like anyone here except for Myself, Mark and Reese. Says the girls here are too "clickish". A behavior I've seen with my own eyes watching footage of Nova instructing the female group.