•The Assassin Series•
"And through all the pain you caused, I still look at you as if you painted the sky." ~K.R
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Anastasia Romano is very upbeat and happy girl despite everything she has been through.
She is a lot like her mother, Alan...
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Chapter Nine
Music vibrates off the back of a truck as Ezra and I walk through the sand. Earlier, Ezra came and parked a car on the beach which is filled with the things we need to kidnap Andrew. First, we're going to party a bit.
"Remember," Ezra grabs my wrist and pulls me towards her. "If either of us feel like something may go wrong, head to the car and blow the whistle."
I nod and glance around. "Okay, got it. Be safe." Kissing her on the cheek, I smile and start walking off. "Love you."
"Love you." She winks and saunters off, her dirty blond hair flowing behind her.
I Know You Want Me by Pitbull plays loudly as I walk over towards the alcohol table, grabbing a red solo cup. Dipping my finger inside, I trace the outline and bottom of the cup for any power-like substance before grabbing a miniature bottle of Jameson from my bikini top.
I'm going to need this tonight.
Wincing, I take two gulps of the bitter alcohol and hold back a burp as the burning sensation dulls to a deep heat in the abyss of my chest. Rolling my neck around, I turn and bump into someone.
"Excuse you." I mumble and go to walk around them. "Hey!"
The man tilts his head, never wavering his harsh grip from my arm. "Do I know you?"
I examine the man, my eyes swarming with want—hope. It's almost as if I have been waiting for those words. I swear I can see him; Blue eyes, mouse brown hair, sharp yet rounded features.
But then, the man snarls. His hair isn't brown and his eyes aren't blue, they're brown.
"Watch where you're fucking going." He grits out and I about lose my shit.
Pouting, I lean my hip out and tilt my head. "What was that?"
He growls. "I said, watch where you're fucking—"
"Fucking?" I snort and laugh, my eyes squinting in amusement. "With what? Oh, Honey, because I'm sure you aren't doing any fucking with that little toy rocket ship. Have you seen the size of those things?"
When he doesn't let my arm go, I grow impatient but hold my ground. "My dick isn't small."
I scrunch up my nose and lower my voice to an embarrassed whisper. "Are you sure?"
"Do you want me to fucking prove it?"
I feign confusion. "Prove what? That you don't have a dick? Oh, there is no proving to do. I already came to that conclusion when you decided it was a good idea to put your hands on me." With that, I twist my arm in his grip and grasp his forearm with that hand, turning it at an angle that even the slightest of movement will break it.
