A Target's Love

8

The letter was reduced to a tiny, multi-faceted ball, crushed as Javier's fist clenched. The nerve of that woman! Who the hell was this woman she kept implying Javier had left her for? He stuffed the letter in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out of the parking lot. If she was looking for trouble, she was going to get it. She had no idea who she was really dealing with. He killed people for a living. She didn't want to become his next target.

He went at least 15 miles over the speed limit as he headed down the long stretch of asphalt leading to the condo. He weaved expertly between traffic and caused quite a commotion as cars stopped and drivers honked their horns loudly. Some even pushed their heads out of their windows and swore at him, but Javier ignored their brunt language.

When he arrived at The Pegasus, he jumped out of his car and grabbed his suitcase. A valet immediately appeared to take the BMW, and Javier handed over the key fob after warning the boy that it had better be returned to him in five minutes at his suite or else. The guy nodded and drove off to park in the Quintons' private garage. Javier strode into the elevator and waited impatiently as he was transported to the top floor.

He vaguely noted that his father had had the front door fixed. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he made a beeline for his father's office. He allowed the slamming of the door to announce his presence.

His father looked up. "What the--?"

Without saying a word, Javier reached into his jacket pocket and took out the crushed letter. He threw it down onto the surface of the sleek, black, L-shaped desk angrily. William Quinton put down his paper with an annoyed expression on his face, but took up the crushed sheet of paper and smoothed it out. He read it slowly, his brows furrowing deeply.

Javier stood next to the window wall and looked out toward the ocean, arms folded across his chest, tapping his foot impatiently on the polished hardwood floor.

"Stop that," His father snapped. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Javier stopped, rolled his eyes, and sat down opposite the man. He could feel his anger seeping away. It was slowly being replaced by curiosity.

"Hmm," his father said, finally done reading. 

If he takes this long to read a small letter, Javier mused, how long does it take him to get through the whole newspaper? No wonder he never seems done.

"So?" Javier said impatiently.

"You sure know how to pick them, son." His father mused, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

"She's old news, but that's beside the point. I'm quite sure I should take that letter seriously. Plus, it's long overdue. She's the nagging type. I should have heard from her before this. It's weird."

"You broke it off," William corrected him with a smirk and then became serious. "At any rate, I agree. She talks about getting even. . .and about having a new fling. I wonder who it could be and whether or not he's a threat."

"Same here. And she keeps implying that I left her for some other woman. I don't know who the hell she's referring to."

His father looked at him. "The last time you argued, was she upset about some other woman?"

Javier thought hard. "She kept bringing Elizabeth up, but. . ."

"There you have it."

Javier stood up angrily. "She's dragging her into this again?"

"You didn't do anything to anger her further, did you?"

"Well. . ." Javier sat back down.

His father threw up his hands. "You did, huh? She's a woman, son. They get jealous so easily. The way you go through them like Kleenex, you'd think you would have figured it out by now."