Falling For My Killer

Chapter 1

The Fallen are a top-secret group of assassins for hire. They are literal ghosts, shadows for the rest of the world. They are elite, untouchable, only those who knew had access to their services and you will have to pay whatever the asking price is to get the job done. They could blend into all environments, you could be seated next to one and you will have no idea.

Freen Sarocha grew up within the organization, specifically designed to forge her into a weapon. She is a genius. She is cunning. She is strategic. There is something about her sultry voice, endless charm, and wicked good looks that could make anyone drop to their knees.

"Freen you have a new assignment!" Saint said interrupting her workout session.

He handed her a dossier, which Freen flicked through, her eyes were drawn to the small picture attached.

"Becky Armstrong?" Freen mused.

She had long, dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and strong, square jaw. She was tall, and athletic and her smile was warm with a hint of shyness. For a hot second Freen got lost in those eyes.

Becky Armstrong on the other hand was a pure soul. There was a steadiness to her, as if all the storms in the world were a whispering breeze if she was there. She was kind and clever, perhaps that's what drew people to her. It was as if she knew she was born to be a queen of the earth, one who helped others, using her brain to fix whatever needed fixing. There was nothing "princess" about her though, just a fierce independence and confidence with the air of a warrior.

"Freen?" Saint's voice remained distant but was enough to bring her out of her reverie.

"Why?" The question momentarily suprised Saint, because the why didn't matter. Shouldn't matter. They are given orders and it is expected of them to perform it without any questions asked.

Still he hesistantly answered, "She is an FBI Agent who is sticking her nose in other people's business, where she shouldn't be."

"That's literally her job. We don't go after people for doing their job." Freen said looking up at Saint.

"Because we think there is more to her."

"A spy?" Freen guessed.

He nodded his head in affirmation, "Yes. That is the possible conclusion. You know how important is our contacts within the FBI are. We can't afford to lose them because of her."

"CIA?" She pondered.

"Or the MI6...the FSB. We don't know and we can't risk to find out." He said with a devilish grin.

"What are the orders?" Freen couldn't help but ask.

"It's a kill order." An unexpected tightness surrounded her heart but her lifelong training took over as her mind convinced her of the mission.

"POC?" She asked, her determination seeping through. (Point of contact)

"She is going to be at the Casino Royale tonight as part of an FBI undercover operation. That's your opening."

Freen thought long and hard, "While doing her job? If she is who you says she is, she will be on high alert."

"This is the only believable scenario for you to get her alone and put her guards down."

"How am I going to do that?" She frowned.

He chuckles, "Use your charms, you just so happens to be her type."

"Which is?"

"Woman! Strong, attractive woman. And she is someone who appreciates a good night's company. Never into any serious relationships. Think you are up for it?" He purred.

"It almost seems cruel to kill her on our first night out but it will be my genuine pleasure." Freen said with a smile.

"Go over your orders." Saint's gruff voice filled her ear.

"Head to Casino Royale, intercept the target, and execute the kill order," Freen replied simply, devoid of my emotions.

"Good. You have to check in within 18 hours. If you fail to do so, you are on your own. If you are captured, you are on your own. If you are killed, you will be buried in an unmarked grave. Do you understand?"

"I do," Freen confirmed.

She was ready; it was time to get to work.