Page 3 of B.D.E
I didn’t want any affection whatsoever. Affection was a leash, and I’d spent too much of my life chained to shit I couldn’t escape. Foster homes. Fists. Pain… and promises that didn’t mean shit. So, I made rules. No touching…no kissing… no face. They came for the dick, not for the man behind it. Because the man behind it… He didn’t exist outside of blood and contracts.
After making it to the cottage and scoping out my surrounds, I sat at the small wooden table and waited.
PING!
Right on cue, my laptop pinged with an encrypted file. One that I always received before the job. So encrypted that no one could decipher what it meant besides Gideon and I. He’d taught me years ago how to read his encrypted messages so, if for some reason shit hit the fan and the feds found it, it would look like a bunch of gibberish. Literally just symbols and slashes to the naked eye but to me, it was a death sentence waiting to be carried out. Target, location, time and exit route. I opened it and memorized every detail before closing the laptop. I reached for my gear and strapped up piece by piece before grabbing my bag of weapons and heading out. Kill mode activated.
CHAPTER 2
Ghost
I parkedthree blocks from the location—an abandoned meatpacking warehouse just at the corner of Rosehall city limits. I’d been going over the details of my mark the whole ride here and shit just felt off. Still, I never questioned the instructions, just executed it and disappeared until the next job. I carefully scoped out the perimeter a few hours before nightfall, noting exits, counting broken cameras and even timing the rare patrol car that crept by on the highway. This seemed way too easy. Too clean, and that’s what made my instincts twitch. I watched the entrance through the scope of my rifle, eyes locked in on the rusted bay doors.
The night air breeze sent a chill through my body, but I ignored it and remained focused on the task at hand, noticing that one of the bay doors was cracked, barely, but enough to see. According to the file, the mark was using this abandoned warehouse as a safe meeting place to finalize a deal with a buyer in the black market. The spot was off grid, no cameras and no foot traffic. Perfect for a quiet hit. The file also contained partial blueprints of the warehouse and photos of the mark’s car spotted here a few nights ago. I adjusted, checking the back alley witha small mirror attached to a fiber optic cable. It slid under the corner of the fence. The alley was clear, too clear if you asked me. No footprints in sight. No cigarette butts, no nothing. Still, I moved; no questions asked. That’s the thing about being a ghost—if you second guessing your haunt, you fuck up the whole reason you exist.
I quietly footed to the back entrance and pried it open with a flat tool and my shoulder. I stepped in slowly, on alert, taking in the smell of rust and mold. The familiar metallic smell of blood lingered thick through the air.Another red flag.I pressed against the stained concrete wall, ears tuned in to see if I could hear any conversation or movement, but I heard nothing. Just as I got ready to move further, I spotted it. A red dot, high on the far wall. I knew there were no cameras or sensors in this muthafucka’ so I immediately went into action, dropping and rolling as the first shot rang out.
Sniper’s eye!
The concrete burst beside me, shards cutting across my arm. I scrambled behind a stack of wooden pallets before drawing my gun.
Fuck! An ambush!
Another shot tore into the wall behind me, close enough to feel the vibration through my fucking teeth. These muthafuckas’ knew I was coming. They weren’t just watching, they were waiting! I kicked the pallet stack forward as a distraction and moved left, keeping low as another crack echoed. I counted two shooters, minimum. Maybe more. I fired back with two quick rounds. I could hear them hit metal, clearly missing the bodies since I didn’t hear their screams. This shit was too coordinated and too clean to be a hit. This was a setup.
A third shot tore into my side, just under my ribs. The pain hit me hot and sharp as I cursed under my breath. I stayed on my feet, ducking into an office door that barely held on its hinges.Blood was pouring from my side now, fast, soaking through my shirt but I couldn’t sit still. If I stopped, I’d die so, I clutched my side and kept moving, barely making it out the same way I’d entered. All I seen was broken glass and a dark alley as I limped my way through, then after a few seconds, I broke out into a full-blown run, every step feeling like fire up my spine. I couldn’t stop asking myself the million-dollar question…who the fuck sold me out?The streetlights blurred as I ducked into the shadows and disappeared. The kind of disappearing only I knew how to do. I didn’t have time to go back to the car, so I knew getting back to the cottage was out of the question. I needed to find cover now.
I was able to blend in the night as I roamed the streets, looking for quick cover before whoever the fuck ambushed me came looking to finish me off. I noticed a storefront with a soft yellow glow still shining through the window. Most of the strip was dark, shutdown for the night so the small light stuck to me like a sore thumb. Knowing that I couldn’t stay on the street and risk being seen, I stumbled through the alley beside the bookstore, slipping between trash bins and the cracked brick wall. I was losing too much blood and knew that my legs wouldn’t be able to carry me much further, so I made the choice to go in through the back door. I pulled my Glock out with one hand and used the other to brace against the door.
Locked.
It didn’t matter though because I was getting inside either way. I slammed my shoulder into it, feeling the sharp pain shoot through my body but I didn’t stop there, I couldn’t. The wood door cracked on the second hit, and I staggered inside with my gun raised. The place smelled like old paper, vanilla and cinnamon. I scoped the area, noticing the staircase off to the left with boxes stacked along the wall and a radio humming low somewhere. I let the door close behind me, locking it outof habit. My body collapsed as I made it behind a counter in the shadows. Gun still in my hand and blood trailing down my side, my body was giving out me. Just as everything started to go black, I caught the soft sound of footsteps above me. Light and unhurried, like someone who wasn’t expecting their night to go from sugar to shit. I wasn’t tryna bring anybody into this bullshit, a nigga was just tryna find a place to hide out, but it was already too late.
One second, I was staring at the ceiling, looking at the exposed pipes and flickering light bulb and the next, I was somewhere else. Back in the alley at twelve, with the bloody broken bottle in my hand and my heart numb as concrete. A woman’s soft voice pulled me out of it. She was close, too close. I blinked and there she was.
“What…who are you?” She whispered as her voice trembled.
She had big eyes hiding behind a pair of frames, soft lips and curves like a damn fantasy wrapped in a sweater that was three sizes too big. She didn’t scream when she saw me, just gasped and froze up like her brain didn’t know whether to run or… stay. Her smell was sweet. Not just the clean floral scent clinging to her skin though. It was something else. Something raw and primal.
Arousal.
It lingered through the air and the second she stepped behind the counter, soft but potent. Like a secret she didn’t know she was giving away. Another muthafucka wouldn’t have caught it, but I wasn’t a regular muthafucka. I’d been trained to read the room and study people with my life on the line. I studied everything about a woman, inside out, they were my prey in the bedroom, and I treated them as such. And right now, her body was screaming louder than her silence. She was scared, yeah. But there was also curiosity in her eyes with a hint of hunger. She was trying to hide it but a nigga like me, though injuredand faint, could see it pouring off her in waves. Fuck. Bleeding out or not, that scent lit something in me I hadn’t felt in a long time. I couldn’t even say what it was exactly, just that I knew I’ve must’ve experienced it at some point in my life, but it was foreign to me now.
“Shit, you’re bleeding.” She crouched over me, her hands hovering like she didn’t know if she should touch me. My instincts were screaming to stop her because I’d never let any muthafucka touch me and live to tell about it. But for some reason, I was conflicted. A part of me wanted to feel her small hands on my skin. My head dropped against the cabinet as the pain flared again, sharp enough to make me grunt. Her breath hitched when I shifted and groaned low, trying to stay upright.
“Don’t call nobody,” I said roughly.
Her lips parted. “I—what? You need a?—”
“No cops and no fucking ambulance. Just… let me sit.” I growled as my vision swam again. Her hand brushed my chest, like she seemed to be trying to stop the bleeding. I growled again. Not loud but enough to remind her that I wasn’t some damn stray dog she could nurse back to health. Her hand paused just as I started to see blackness again. But her scent followed me down.
CHAPTER 3
Ivy Monroe
The loud crashfrom the back of the store made me jump so hard, I nearly knocked over the entire display of romance novels. I clutched the edge of the counter; breath caught in my throat as panic set in. I should’ve been upstairs in bed by now finishing up theArranged Love Affairby Mona Leah that was waiting for me on my nightstand, but instead, I was down here doing inventory like some overachieving nerd. “Sweet Lady” played low through the speakers, a half-full mug of my special cinnamon tea was on the counter, and my clipboard was in my hand as I hummed without thinking. That was before the loud crash cut through the soft playing music, like something heavy had fallen in the back of the store.
I froze as my clipboard slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a clatter. Every instinct I had was screaming run… but my feet wouldn’t move. I was scared shitless but also pissed about somebody trying to break in on little old me. Rosehall, Georgia wasn’t the kind of town where stuff like that happened. It was a small place, tucked just outside the big city, and because the population was low, everybody knew everybody. My first thought was that it had to be someonenotfrom here. Nobodylocal would be that damn bold… or that cruel. Well, unless it was some knotty-head teenagers up to no good.
