A Target's Love

13

Elizabeth jerked backward, momentarily stunned. The thought crossed her mind that it was a good thing she didn't easily lose her balance in heels, or she'd be sprawled all over the ground by now. And that would have sucked. She spread her feet slightly apart, handbag still clutched in her hand, and glared at the silhouette of her attacker. Definitely a woman. What the hell did she want?

The woman chuckled lightly, the mocking sound traveling toward Elizabeth's ears, intensifying her glare at the silhouette. 

"You're probably wondering who I am, Ms. Rosheuvel," The woman said as she paced slowly, a hand on her hip. "Or may I call you Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth snarled at the way she said the name Rosheuvel, as if it was something to be scorned. "Why don't you step a little closer so I can see your face?" She suggested, her voice mockingly low. "I'd love to meet the woman who started a fight she won't be able to finish."

"Ah, so easily riled up."

Elizabeth nearly growled at the tone but refrained from saying anything. She dropped her handbag gently onto the charcoal asphalt of the lot. A part of her felt strongly that she needed to be ready so that she wouldn't be caught off guard again. 

Dim light from a street lamp about fifty yards away filtered faintly through the leaves of the evergreens surrounding the property, the pride of the company's gardener. The night was still, which Elizabeth hated at this moment for two reasons: one, she was hot and beginning to get sweaty due to a lack of wind and the adrenaline coursing through her; two, it meant that it was getting later and her father would be worried. She was supposed to be home about two hours ago. Between the emergencies earlier and this unexpected visit from the catsuit-clad mystery woman in front of her, she was losing precious time fast.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed when the woman stepped into the dim light and smiled. The smile was sardonic and confident and Elizabeth wanted to punch it straight off of her face. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't escalate the situation unless she absolutely had to, although she did owe her an uppercut for her greeting earlier.

She studied the woman more closely. She was dressed in a matte black catsuit and black stiletto ankle boots, her blond hair pulled into a sleek high ponytail. But it was her face that caught Elizabeth's attention. High cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, and thin, perky lips. And those eyes. . . She was sure she'd seen that face somewhere before.

The woman took another step closer. "Remember me?"

Elizabeth gasped, her eyes widening with sudden recognition. Of course! The woman from the party. The same party she'd attended where she'd had that run-in with Jake, and Javier Quinton had stepped in to save her like they were starring in their own episode of Lois & Clark. Renee. Renee Oswald. That was her name. If she remembered correctly, Renee had been Javier's date to the party, and quite a possessive one at that. What did I ever do to her? Elizabeth wondered. They'd spoken only once, for no more than a few minutes.

"Yes, I can see that you remember."

"What do you want?"

"Well, see, here's the thing, Elizabeth. You took the one thing from me that I've wanted most in my life. I never liked you, but now I think it's safe to say that I hate you."

With that, she sprang from her position and landed near Elizabeth. With much force, she backhanded her across the jaw.

"Do understand what you took from me?" Renee yelled in anger.

Elizabeth recoiled, cradling her hurt jaw gingerly. "What the hell are you talking about?" she mumbled through the pain, wincing as she said it.

A punch to her stomach made her double over in pain. What was that woman wearing--a steel-knuckled glove?