Page 59 of Heroes & Hitmen
Keep dreaming, stalker.
God, I’ve missed this. She’s funny when she lets herself be. Witty in that dry, cutting way I love.
Already am, about the way you tasted after that cupcake the other day.
That message earns radio silence.Too far. I stare at my screen, thumb hovering as I debate whether to keep pushing. She always does this– engages until the moment it feels dangerous. Until it gets real. Then she shuts the door and bolts the lock.
Not that I blame her.
She’s got her reasons to be guarded, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying to scale her walls anytime soon. I just need to get her to see things the way I do. Make her realize the two of us are meant to be, written in the stars by fate.
It’s not just wishful thinking on my part. All the signs are there– I feel it in my blood, in my bones. In the way my wolf calms when she’s near, the way her scent registers like a drug.
Mine.
There’s no way she doesn’t feel the pull between us, but she’s nothing if not stubborn. She refuses to believe this could be real. So, I’ll just have to keep trying to win her over.
Or die of blue balls.
Those little silk pajama sets she wears are fucking obscene, and there’s only so much a guy can take before he snaps.
A loud bang sounds from the docks below, yanking me back to the present. I drop my phone and refocus immediately, every sense sharpening as I peer through the scope of my rifle. My heart rate spikes, finger light on the trigger. There’s a crate lying sideways on the ground, the men gesturing to it wildly as they bicker amongst themselves. Looks like it fell from the forklift as they were trying to load it. Just a dumb accident, not a threat.
Idiots.
I exhale slowly and lower the rifle again as my phone buzzes from the floor. Bending forward to pick it up, I swipe open the screen to check my messages.
Not Miley, just Will.
Will
Let me know if you’re down to grab a few beers, then.
I fire off a thumbs up emoji in response, then lean forward again, peering through the scope to watch as the workers belowfinish up. Truck doors close, engines rev. Mission complete. No bullets fired.
Not that I ever expected to use any today.
This wasn’t about security, it was about control. About reminding me who’s really pulling the strings. It’s annoying as fuck, but I’ve played this game long enough to know that even puppets can cut their strings when the time’s right. That’s the key to this entire scheme–timing.
I’m in the midst of packing up when my phone vibrates again. Glancing down, I expect to find another text from Will, but imagine my surprise when it’s fromher.
Miley
I’m free Saturday night. Don’t make it weird.
I stare at the screen for a beat too long, lips pulling into a grin. The message is casual, seemingly benign, but I can read between the lines. This is her version of an olive branch– one I’ll gladly take.
Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. You bring the sarcasm, I’ll bring dessert.
Her reply is quick.
As long as it’s not cupcakes. Turns out, those lead to bad decisions.
A low laugh escapes me as I sling my rifle over my shoulder and grab my gear bag, pushing to my feet.
Cupcakes, kisses, whatever– it doesn’t matter. She said yes, and this might just be the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. A chance to get her out of her own head, lower her defenses.
And once she’s comfortable, once she starts to trust me, I’ll get her hooked on something a hell of a lot more dangerous than sugar.
