Hitman: Captured | #1 - HIATUS

► Chapter 10

When I first walked into the abandoned house, I had no idea what to expect from it. My mind was muddled from what happened, everything spun out of control so quickly and the fact they found us so easily. The only explanation Neil gave me was that they were waiting for us to try leave Detroit.

The house from the inside looked decent. The kitchen was a moderate size, big enough for a breakfast table to be on the corner near the entrance. Neil told me it used to be a total dump, Frank and Alexei fixed the place enough for it to be livable. The living room even had a chimney, bathroom looked nicer than I thought a bathroom from an abandoned house should look like.

Apparently, it took a lot of remodeling for Alexei and Frank. I don't know how it looked like before but it must have been pretty damn bad.

I step out the small room I chose instead of the one next to me out of paranoia as that one had a window facing the street. No one lives beside us—no neighbors aside from the one across from us but they're pretty far away. The houses are between one or five acres apart.

Reaching the stairs in which the bathroom faces it and a third bedroom to the right of my own is also beside the staircase. These stairs are old, creaking underneath my weight—the only thing in the house that actually gives off an old, unused vibe. Once my feet land on the last step, I turn to my left leading me to the kitchen.

Neil stands over the sink—a window above it—appearing absentminded while rinsing dishes. "Morning." I greet softly, disregarding the tension on my thigh preventing me from leaning any weight on it. I pull out the seat of the mahogany wooden table, sitting down before my leg decides it is the best time to give up on me.

"Morning," He greets in return, his deep voice hoarse as if he just woke up. A shiver runs through my frame, "Do you want breakfast now or do you want it later?"

"Now is good." Blue eyes study the Hitman's movements; his hands lifting two plates from the kitchen counter and strolls to the stove beside the refrigerator. It annoys me sometimes because I can't see what Neil is cooking or cooked until after he serves it. "How's your leg?" Neil asks out of the blue.

Peering down at the leg, I frown, "It's gotten better. It aches a little and I can walk for a while but I still feel like my leg can't support a lot of weight." I answer with a sincere tone. Eyes drifting back to the blonde man, his grey shirt clings to his chest and toned bicep. As it descends to his waist it looks very loose, hiding away the abdominal muscles; his black pants is something else.

Somehow it hugs his ass and thick thighs really well as if they're barely fitting him but when it's down to his calves—it loosens. "Downstairs are workout equipment. If you're fine doing it today I'll get you started on your 'physical therapy'." Neil clarifies, I hear him loud and clear but my mind is too busy taking a picture of his muscular build.

When he turns to me I can't help staring at his crotch area, "Hey, eyes up here kid." I snap out of it flicking my eyes back up. He arches his eyebrow, honey eyes glinting in amusement with his flesh pink cupid's bow lip pulling a smile. "Sorry, I'm a little tired. I couldn't sleep last night." I say acting as if I wasn't checking him out.

He nods padding his way to the table I am sitting in with plates on either hand, "Doesn't give you the excuse to stare at my-"

"Okay, I get it," The blush finally creeps into my cheeks after trying so hard to keep a straight face. I turn my head as he places the plate of food in front of me; smiling to see sausages, bacon, waffles with strawberries and blueberries on top of the whipped cream. "Can I ask you something?" Tone curious.

"You already are." Neil states smoothly, plate on the spot in front of me and walks back to the seat to get the utensils. I shoot him an unamused look, "You think you're so funny." I drawl.