Page 22 of Heroes & Hitmen
“See you around, sweetheart,” I call.
“Not if I can help it,” she mutters, hustling away down the hall as if she can’t get away from me fast enough.
I chuckle to myself as the doors slide closed and the elevator continues its ascent. Miley Beckett is going to be the death of me– or maybe the thing that finally makes me feel alive. Only time will tell, but either way, I’m not done with her.
The elevator doors glide open on the thirty-second floor and I step out, walking the familiar hallway to my apartment and letting myself in. The place smells strongly of the cedarwood diffuser plugged into the wall, but the artificial scent is a poor substitute for the real thing.
I miss the forest.
Miss home.
Fuck.
I scrub a hand over my face as I cross to the living room, returning to the ugly ergonomic chair and flopping down into it with a heavy sigh. The moment I lean back and reach for my beer still resting on the side table, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket, prompting me to pull it out and thumb the screen open.
It’s a message from the Alpha’s office– my first assignment.
I’m lyingflat on my stomach, the cool metal of the rifle steady against my shoulder, eye pressed to the scope. The rooftop beneath me radiates leftover heat from the sun, now long gone, the sky washed in deep navy. From here, I’ve got a perfect view of the docks below.
The meeting’s set to go down at the far end. Two SUVs are already parked under a busted floodlight that’s flickering like it’strying to stay alive. Figures mill around, tense shadows barely moving as the Alpha’s men get into position for this ‘business meeting’ of his. Considering it’s happening after dark at the docks with armed security, I’m guessing whatever business he’s conducting isn’t exactly above board.
Not that it’s any of my concern. Derek Kane, the lead enforcer for the Chicago pack, said as much when I asked questions after my briefing. He informed me of my orders for this assignment– to be a hidden sniper on Alpha Gage’s protection detail– and made it clear that any other information would be disseminated on a strict need-to-know basis. His polite way of telling me to fuck off and just do my job.
Turns out, this new job of mine goes beyond carrying out hits for the Alpha whenever he snaps his fingers. According to Kane, most of the time it's less murder, more muscle, and tonight’s one of those nights. Alpha Gage is here to meet someone, and I’m here to cover his ass if they try to pull something. Easy enough.
Through the scope, I track Alpha Gage stepping out of one of the vehicles, dressed in a dark suit. His jacket shifts with his movements and the grip of the handgun tucked in his waistband catches the light. An intimidation tactic, I’m sure– he’s decidedly the type who prefers to have others do his dirty work for him.
Case in point, me on this roof right now.
He’s calm and unhurried as he strides away from the vehicle, wearing a look of bored confidence that probably makes most people second-guess their spine. I’m not most people. I see right through this asshole’s scare tactics.
Remembering my directive, I sweep the area again. Shadows shift. A seagull screeches overhead. Wind pulls off the lake, crisp and cold.
This isn’t a job I particularly enjoy, but it’s one I’m good at.Toogood, probably. It’s easy to shoot at someone from a distance, far away enough that you don’t get sprayed by their blood or see the life drain from their eyes. It’s easier to compartmentalize that way; to trivialize the value of a life.
A dangerous thought crosses my mind– that it’d be far too easy to pull the trigger right now on the very man I’m here to protect. The one who views his daughters as nothing more than commodities for trade. He’s the obstacle preventing me from making MileyBeckettmine, and one tiny movement of my index finger could remove that obstacle from the equation…
Another SUV pulls up and my finger finds its place along the trigger guard. I steady my breath as the engine shuts off.
A man steps out– tall and broad, dressed in a dark coat that looks expensive. He’s flanked by two others, both bristling with the kind of stillness that says they’re packing heat. I track them all through the scope, zeroing in on faces, fingers, any twitch or sign of aggression. I wait for the signal, either to stand down or to put someone in the dirt.
They approach Alpha Gage slowly and deliberately, projecting a carefully restrained confidence. It’s instinct, like prey puffing up to look bigger in front of a predator. The conversation starts, and while I can’t hear them from this distance, I can read body language. The other guy’s talking with his hands, as if he’s trying to sell something, while Gage doesn’t even shift his weight. He just stands there cool and calm, arms relaxed at his sides.
Tension hums under my skin like a low buzz. It’s not adrenaline, per se– more like readiness. I’m not hoping things go sideways, but if they do, I’ll be the one to bring about a swift resolution.
The wind picks up again. Someone lights a cigarette. One of the goons reaches into his coat and I tense, sight snapping to his hand.
Gun?
No. Just a phone. He checks it, then pockets it again.
I exhale slowly.
A few more minutes pass. Whatever deal they’re making, it doesn’t end in bloodshed. Alpha Gage gives a nod of dismissal, and the two parties start to drift apart. No handshakes, no smiles. Just business.
I keep watch through the scope of my rifle until the other men get in their SUV and pull away, the Alpha’s team loading back into their vehicles. Only then do I let my eye off the scope and rest my cheek against the cool roof tile.
I sit up slowly, cracking the stiffness from my shoulders. Below, the SUVs shrink into the shadows, swallowed by the dark.
