Targets - A Roman Reigns AU Story

16. out_for_blood_

The frantic pacing continued at Roman's Upper East Side apartment. By the time seven p.m. rolled around, he was going insane from the million-and-one thoughts swirling inside his brain. In an attempt to stay calm, he had cooked, but he'd been so distracted that he'd almost burned all the food he made. He was on the verge of a meltdown of epic proportions. This felt like a bad dream, a terrible nightmare he desperately wanted to wake up from. But this was real, and this was happening. And there was a shit-ton of evidence to back it all up.

His girlfriend was not who she claimed to be all these months. Jasmine wasn't an event planner. She didn't organize weddings or bachelorette parties or company retreats. She was a spy. A hitman, just like him. The thought of his beautiful, kind-hearted girlfriend taking a life on a regular basis – like he did – made his blood run cold. And if he was to judge from their encounter at the MGM Arena, she wasn't some bright-eyed, bushy-tailed rookie embarking on her first assignment. She was a seasoned, highly skilled professional, at least if their battle in that hotel room was anything to go by.

In all honesty, the Samoan never felt that he knew Jasmine very well. As he'd told her before, there was an air of ambiguity about her, a mystique that he nonetheless found appealing and more importantly, harmless. But this recent discovery convinced him that his instincts were right all along. Jasmine was extremely dangerous, and if she had also found out about who he truly was, there wasn't a shred of doubt in Roman's mind that she would come after him. And she would expect the same from him. Because that was how they were all trained. If you had a target, you eliminate the target. Show no mercy, even if the target meant something to you.

Even if the target meant everything to you.

The knock on the door, uncharacteristically, startled him. His head whipped towards the sound, his body tensing instantly. He forced himself to take a deep breath and clear his mind. He needed to calm down, needed to handle this as rationally as possible.

But could he ever regard this unexpected turn of events with a rational train of thought? How did one wrap their head around the fact that the best thing that ever happened to you was based on nothing but a lie?

He walked over and opened the door, and for a moment his breath was taken away. Jasmine looked stunning as always, and Roman was forced to compose himself. For all he cared, this was a distraction. Everything she did in the entire duration of their relationship was probably nothing but one distraction after the other, and he fell for all of it.

"Jasmine. Perfect timing." He smiled coolly at her, keeping his suspicions from the forefront. His dark eyes slid up and down her curves, scanning for clues. She was wearing a long-sleeved top, obviously to cover up the bullet wound he expected to find on her left arm. Roman took a good look at Jasmine, really looked at Jasmine, for the first time since they met. It was amazing what an earth-shattering revelation could do to someone's psyche.

Jasmine remained standing at the door, her smile still intact. "Well, are you going to let me in?" she asked.

Snapping out of it, he finally stepped aside for her. "Of course."

They would have kissed. They always kissed, did more sometimes. But Jasmine couldn't bear to even touch him right now. She walked past him and entered the apartment. Her eyes immediately began scrutinizing the place, looking left and right. She'd been here several times, but after what she'd learned, it was as though she was looking at a completely different place. She walked a little slowly, never fully turning her back on Roman. She noticed he was wearing a black turtleneck shirt. Definitely to cover up the neck she'd left deep scratch marks on. Still, she needed to see it for herself, but not yet. She would feel him out, observe his reactions,although this new, non-sexual tension between them should have been enough to confirm her fears.