Targets (bwwm) *Completed*

Fifty Three

Winston shuffled towards his clothes that laid haphazardly thrown across the bedroom floor. As he slipped them on, he turned to watch as Omisha laid peacefully in bed- her body softly rising with each breath.

They'd gotten carried away due to their recently stagnant sex life. He could still feel the hot stinging in his back, but the release of all his pent up energy soothed the wounds left by his woman.

With a silent prowl, he approached her side of the bed and laid a feather kiss to her forehead. Winston could feel himself slowly becoming lost in her features as he smiled down at her. A childlike giddiness filled his stomach and his head buzzed the longer he stood in her presence.

This feeling scared him when he'd first experienced it, but the more time he spent with the woman the more he accepted it. It was crazy to even imagine himself in love yet the mere thought of Omisha put that notion into reality.

"Can you stare any harder?" Her raspy voice shook him from his thinking. She opened one eye, immediately matching the cheesy smile on his face.

"I can't help myself when you look so good all the time." Kneeling down, he laid his head on his forearms. Who would have thought Thorn, a feared hitman, could find love like this?

"Bullshit. I'm sure I've got a couple bald spots now from how hard you were pulling." Omisha laughed before turning on her back. She threw an arm over her eyes then ran her hands up into her hair.

"I'm sorry. Let me see." Winston crawled onto the bed to place himself fully on top of her and interlock his fingers into her hair.

"Oof! You're...heavy." The grunt was topped off with a weak push against him but he continued to softly massage her scalp. He made sure to keep most weight placed on her stomach instead of her chest area as to not hurt her shoulder stitching.

"Boss! We're almost 2 hours late. We should go soon." Tommy's voice sounded after a number of loud thuds on the door. Dread filled him at the thought of leaving Omisha. They'd been almost glued to the hip since the incident and Winston wasn't complaining.

"Duty calls." She muttered. He moved to place himself into a seated position on the edge of the bed then turned to look back at her. "What?"

"Nothing." There was a disbelieving smile on her face. God, she was gorgeous.
...

Winston slowly entered the facility and could immediately feel a headache brewing. He tried not to mix Odessa's men and his own, but she seemed to have other ideas.

"Boss. Tommy." One of the men greeted as they made their way towards the back offices. The facility was made similar to a warehouse with men milling about working on side businesses. Their boots echoed off the concrete floors and thin, tin roof.

Winston nodded stiffly before passing a large group of men- some stood while others sat around a table discussing something. They all immediately stood to greet him as he passed but one seemed to stare harder than the rest. He was about an inch taller than Winston and looked to be in his early 20s.

"Boss!" The man called before Winston could fully pass by. He stopped without a word, silently consenting for the man to speak.

"Well, we think-"

"Aye, mutherfucker, don't bring us into this. This is all you." One of the men yelled as the others gave sounds of agreements. They gathered around and pushed the man closer to Winston to show their disagreement with whatever he was going to say.

Tommy raised the shotgun laid on his shoulder but Winston signaled for him to allow the man to speak. There was clear malice in his eyes and it humored Winston to see such frustration.

"As I was saying, I think you've become bitch made! You're always late, sometimes you don't even show. The others may deny it but I know it's because of that stupid, black bitc-"

Once again Tommy raised the shotgun, this time much quicker and placed the barrel between the man eyes so harshly his head bobbled back. Tommy awaited Winston's call to blow the man's head off. It filled him with pride to see Tommy so ready to defend Omisha. He knew they bickered more than not.

"It's fine, Tommy. Allow him to speak." Winston crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side in amusement. Tommy hesitated before pulling back.

"Sorry, I misspoke." The man apologized as he eyed Tommy but Winston could see in his eyes he didn't mean it. "I just meant having a woman by your side has made you soft."

"Is that so?" Winston smiled sarcastically. The idea of the man talking poorly of Omisha made his blood boil but he remained calm. "Anyone else think I've gone soft?"

The men all disagreed, exclaiming their support of Omisha. Winston knew even if they did dislike his woman, they had the common sense to keep it to themselves- a trait the man seemed to lack.

"Seems you're the only one." Winston stroked his chin as if he were thinking.

"I'm just the only one with the balls to say it. We all see it. Even today you're late and I can smell her all over you. It's pathetic that you'd let a piece of pussy warp your mind into jeopardizing what we have here. That bitch isn't worth half of what we've done." The man's voice rose as he finished showing his clear malice. His hands balled at his sides and his eyebrows creased.

Winston held his hand out and Tommy quickly placed the shotgun in his hand. "You don't care that I love her?"

The man seemed even more shocked at the use of "love", his eyes not noticing Winston aiming the shotgun at his chest.

"You, you love her? That's fucking pathetic!" He stood behind the sentence by turning up towards the ceiling with a chuckle of disbelief.

"Very well." Winston closed the conversation with a soft shrug. The man finally noticed the shotgun, his hands coming up to begin his excuse when Winston fired a round into his chest.

The cavity exploded in a red shower before his body quickly folded, smacking the concrete at an odd angle. Blood pooled around his body within seconds as pieces of flesh littered the puddle.

"Anyone else have anything they'd like to get off their chest?"
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