I knew something was wrong long before someone tried to strangle me with a laptop cord in my hotel room in Paris.
It was a sunny January day in the city as I walked the streets from a cafe. I had to lay low for a while, but Abioye also had a conclave of lawyers located in this city. One by one I had been paying them each a visit to make sure they settled his death quickly and quietly. I would never actually hurt a child, but I wasn't above threatening it. These fat cat lawyers may be prestigious, but they were also filthy. Every single one of them knew what I did for Rick and all about Rick's weapons and drug trafficking business. They took my threats very seriously.
I had been on my way to meet one of said lawyers this morning. There had been no warning leading up to the fateful event that would shake my perception of my current situation. I was more focused on the recent news heard around the globe than what was happening in Paris. David Dayan had been found dead in his home of hemlock poisoning.
My hands ran through my brunette hair, the black dye having faded and then removed with vitamin C tablets and Head & Shoulders. Still, the chestnut color underneath showed my previous blonde dye job. It looked like I had gotten highlights more than anything, but I still longed for my bland brown hair back.
I stood at a crosswalk in my pencil skirt and blouse, a black jacket covering my body from the wind while I adjusted my sunglasses. I wonder what Ashton is doing right now. He's probably drinking himself into a coma as a celebration for his victory. I'm sure the talented assassin was scouring the news like a vulture these past three days in anticipation.
If I was him I'd be celebrating too. We were some of the richest people in the world now and his fantasy of killing one of his commanders had been fulfilled. Hell, I'd be on a week-long bender if that happened to me. Because truth be told, the Israeli government could have all the theories they wanted but they would never be able to pin the murder on Ashton. And if Dayan covered his tracks well enough to avoid being associated with the two best assassins in the world, which I'm sure he did, then Ashton's name wouldn't even enter the government's mind. It really was the perfect crime, and he was fucking well aware.
Between the plane crash a few months ago and this recent development, Ashton was probably thinking he was king of the world right now. And for once, I didn't feel the need to dethrone him. Being the best killer wasn't something I aspired to be, even if it did show Ashton's superior intelligence and skill set. Second best out of over seven billion wasn't much to sneeze at.
Maybe he was partying right now. I mean, as I said, one of the richest people in the world. After the stressful four months, we had, I think any type of relaxation was welcome. I wonder if he was fucking some bitch right now. I didn't have the right to be jealous, especially at some made-up scenario in my head, but I couldn't help it.
I fucking missed him like hell and now all I could think about was some blonde bitch on her knees right now, gagging on his fucking cock. So yeah, I was fucking jealous, but I couldn't help it. Maybe it was some foreign chick with black, curly hair so unlike my wavy brunette head. Perhaps she had plumper lips or bigger tits. Mine definitely wasn't small but they weren't huge. But it didn't matter if she had an even smaller waist or more interesting eyes; what mattered is that she didn't have blood on her hands.
Maybe she'd gotten in a few fights in her life or done some drugs, but she probably never killed anyone. Never tortured a man to death. Never been a terrorist or a serial killer. Because let's face it, that's what Ashton and I are. So maybe it was worse for whatever girl he was fucking because she was with a monster. But to Ashton, he was getting blown by a fucking angel herself because, after me, anyone is a good person.
The crosswalk light changed to green, drawing my attention from the nightmare in which I watched another woman ride the man I so desperately wanted to get on my knees. I'd like to blame my delusion and distraught emotions as the reason I almost died, but in reality, it was because I was just reckless.
Anger is reckless.
As I stepped onto the crosswalk, everything was normal. My brown irises were on a swivel like always. It wasn't until I glanced at a man in a taxi cab two cars from the sidewalk and one ahead of me, that I knew something was wrong. The thirty-year-old in a black baseball cap with a blonde beard stared at me long and hard, a little too intensely for a normal cab driver.
With my heels clicking on the dark pavement like a normal person, I continued my walk until I passed in front of his car. Without warning the silver cab floored the gas, the low hood hitting my legs with a throbbing pain as my body was thrown up over the windshield of the car until I was tumbling over the roof. My hands ground into the pavement, blood seeping from my palms in seconds. I heard people screaming and shouting, waiting for me to get up. My knees shouted in agony as I pried my aching body off the ground, the car already speeding off.
There was no time left to think. With my bloody palms dripping everywhere and my heels strewn across the road, I got up, looked both ways at people rushing to help me or call the cops, and I fucking bolted.
Lose the crowd. Lose the crowd. Lose the crowd.
The words pounded in my mind as a man tried to grab me to ask if I was okay. I narrowly escaped his loosed grip, the pads of my feet burning against the grey sidewalk. It was like someone had lit my skin on fire, pebbles digging into the soles of my feet while the rough concrete ground them like sandpaper.
I kept my head down, sprinting as fast as I could, weaving my way through the streets crowded with citizens and tourists on a Saturday afternoon. This was not my MO. I was not sloppy like this. My one priority was to lose all of the attention I had attracted, and that started by darting down an ally. Of course, that drew more stares, but once I got lost in the system of small paths behinds buildings, there was no finding me. Still, I sprinted like my life depended on it because it did.
That man had known me and he had meant to kill me. Only the pistol in my waistband could save me. I had to get out of France and fast.
And that's how I ended up here, with a dead body in my hotel room. I had just returned from my hour-long sprint across the city when I flipped on the lights to my room and entered the bathroom with a sigh of relief when the cold tile relaxed my cut-up feet. Though I didn't even get to look in the mirror before a cord wrapped around my neck.
My body was rigid at first, shocked by the attack and the lack of oxygen. But quickly enough, my right hand went back and jabbed my pointer finger into the stranglers eye, my throat gurgling for oxygen. Already my lungs burned from lack of preparation.
Instantly, the man's grip on the thick black wire loosened as he grunted in response to the surprise. I used the chance to get my hand between my neck and the wire, forcing it away from me and using the assassin's grip on it to throw him over my shoulder with the help omg my hips. His heavy body slammed against the tile floor as my eyes adjusted to the same blonde man from earlier.
Without hesitation, I pulled the silenced gun from my waistband and shot him point-blank in the forehead. With the snap of a finger, his body went slack on the ground.
Two assassination attempts in less than two hours by the same man.
There was a bounty on my head, the only difference was this time, the hunter had caught me coming back from battle.
Kavyat was getting desperate and he knew I was at my weakest right now. Rick was dead, Tyler was dead, and Ashton and I were separated. He had four months to get his research done on his former employee and his enemy. If anyone knew anything about Ashton, it was Kavyat.
And that had led him right to me.
Soon enough, the man I loved would be dead and there might be nothing I could do about it.
