"How could you be so stupid? You just got lucky this time, next time you'll be dead." J scolded as he roughly pulled the bullet from her shoulder. Omisha bit her lip to compensate for the pain that radiated through her chest.Luckily, she'd ran into an elderly woman who let her hitchhike to a restaurant on the other side of town- from there she managed to call J. The dark color of her shirt disguised the blood seeping from her wounds, leaving her as a simple homeless woman in the public's eye.
"I understand. It wasn't my choice, he-"
"I don't care. You should have known better than to go to that house in the first place." J chastised as he began to suture up her wound. The bullets didn't hit anything remotely vital and Omisha began to question the true skill of Thorn's men.
"Yes sir."
..."What do you have?" Thorn questioned his team as they gathered at his second house. Their usual spot was littered with the bodies of his men- a reminder of their defeat. It ate him alive to know a rat sat right under his nose and he couldn't sense it earlier.
The women was clearly skilled as she took out 7 of his best and still managed to escape. It baffled Thorn. How could he have not known? One of the reasons he was so highly paid for his jobs was his ability to sense out the intentions of people- his ability to see through their bullshit. Yet, this woman had managed to convince him she was a normal woman in the beginning.
"Um, a lot more than we thought actually." Brandon stuttered out as he passed the information to Thorn. The woman's face was the first thing that met his eyes. Her hair was in a short pixie cut and her eyes were a light brown- the listed name as Dafney Cedricks.
The next she had large curly red hair, blue eyes, and freckles- the listed name as Whitney Yates.
The next she had long blonde hair, green eyes, a nose ring, and lots of tattoos- the listed name as Saphire Niles.
Thorn flipped through the stack, each page holding a different identification for the woman. Although her basic features were the same, she somehow managed to make changes that drastically altered the perception of her appearance. It also baffled him as to how she'd managed to get standard government issued pieces of identification with each identity.
"Who the fuck is this woman?" He muttered as he eyed her list of identities and personas. It was even listed that 'she' was engaged to the governor at one point.
"But this is ultimately what we wanted to show you." Brandon pulled up his laptop and sat it in front of Thorn. There was a video file pulled up and looked to be of an empty street. Pressing play, he watched as a woman entered the frame- her body walking tiredly down the sidewalk.
Manny's sports car came into view and he slowed to a stop beside the woman. Thorn could see them talking before she brushed him off and kept walking down the street.
"What the fuck did I need to see this for?" He growled as the screen went black. It was obviously no secret the woman seemed to attract the attention of his men.
"There's more, sir, this footage was altered. We managed to scrub the zip and did some digging to uncover the raw footage. Watch closely." Brandon clicked into another video and it picked up where the woman was speaking to Manny.
This version showed her walking towards the passenger side before a flash and blood sprayed along the inside of the car. She strutted to the drivers side and did something before looking around the empty street. She once again moved along the inside then continued her stroll down the road.
Thorn felt his blood run cold. This woman was the illusive O.
...Omisha slipped on her jacket, careful of her healing sutures. After almost a week of resting she had to get back to her job. It would be no secret that Thorn would move their location so she was essentially back at square one.
"Where are you going?" J questioned as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. Omisha kissed his temple before grabbing the key from the kitchen counter. She didn't want him sending someone to tail her now that he knew how much she'd messed up the job- she was going to fix it.
Starting up the car, she made sure to recheck the weapon in her purse before backing out the garage. A short trip on the expressway brought her to her destination- Saint Xavier's hospital. Sitting at home doing nothing for that week was out of the question, so she made some calls and got a contact for hospitals that any of Thorn's men may have went to in the last year.
"Good morning." Omisha smiled brightly as she used her sunglasses to push her hair from her face. The receptionist smiled back as she called out the standard greeting. "I have a meeting with Dr. Cook."
"Ms. Quinn?" She questioned after clicking away at her computer. Omisha sleekly eyed the crowd around her as the hair on the back of her neck stood.
"That's correct." Taking the bright pink pass from the woman, Omisha strutted away from the desk- her hips swaying and hair flowing. If they were going to watch her so closely, she may as well give them a show. Just as she entered the elevator a man in a sleek, black suit stepped on. His hair was slicked back, a brown briefcase in his hand, and a blue tie against his white undershirt.
Omisha smirked as he pressed the very top floor before moving to stand slightly behind her. Before she could call him out, a small hand stopped the elevator doors from closing and a woman stepped on- her arms filled with a bundled up toddler.
"Hi, sorry." She shyly muttered as the door softly closed. Omisha peeked over her shoulder to get a better look at the baby. A tiny, brown face met her eyes along with doey brown eyes and Omisha felt her heart swoon- she'd always wanted to be a mother.
"That's such a cute baby." She commented as she stepped closer to the woman. The small woman turned the baby closer to Omisha and smiled brightly.
"Thank you! She'll be one next week." Omisha felt her heart swell as the baby gurgled happily and reached out to her.
"Um... may I?" She made sure to ask the mother before reaching for the baby. Although Omisha wasn't sick, she wanted to be sure the mother was comfortable handing her baby to a stranger first.
"Sure. I just ask that you don't kiss her or anything like that. Nothing personal, I just have to look out for my baby." The woman stuttered out before handing the bundle to Omisha. The baby smiled brightly at her- its gums on full display.
"Well aren't you just the most precious thing." She cooed as she rocked slightly with the baby. "What's her name?"
"It's Amina." At the mention of her name, the baby happily squealed and began to clap her little hands. Before anything else could be said, the doors opened and Omisha passed the baby back so they could get off at their floor.
"Bye pretty Amina!" She cooed to the fleeing baby. Her reflection in the closing metal doors reminded her where she was and who was in the elevator with her.
Just as the elevator began to move, the man raised his briefcase to hit her over the head and she quickly dodged it. Her hand connected with his ribs as hard as she could and she threw in another jab at his jaw before reaching for her purse. As her hand touched the cool metal of her weapon, hands wrapped around her neck and she was harshly thrown against the other side of the elevator.
Keeping her grip on her purse, she finally managed to get her hand on her weapon despite the hot pain that seared across her chest- an indication that her sutures had been torn open. The man quickly approached her and she pulled the trigger just as he managed to get within inches of the barrel- the bullet ripping through his hand and into his eye socket.
Omisha shot three more rounds into his head before she pressed her head against the elevator wall. Taking a deep breathe, she realized there would be no way around getting out of this one so she prepared her distressed victim act as the doors opened.
"Someone help me! P-please help me!"
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Targets (bwwm) *Completed*
Romance"I thought we agreed on a mutual day of rest?" His large body was within inches of hers, their chests brushing with each breath. "Who ordered the hit?" He growled out and Omisha rolled her eyes. It was an unspoken rule to carry that kind of informa...