Page 1 of Ghost
CHAPTER 1
Acold calmweaved through Mila’s bones as she stood in the closet.The scent of heady cologne permeated the stuffy space.The one-piece black bodysuit was slick against her sweaty skin.
Come on, snore, you big oaf.
It’d been fifteen minutes since he entered the room and got under the covers.She didn’t check her watch.Instinct told her it was almost midnight.
The air split with a rough, masculine rattle.Thank god.She adjusted the balaclava.Her breath was hot and damp.Carefully, she slipped her fingers into the pocket at her hip and grasped the capped hypodermic needle.
Another snore followed, slow and laborious.Years ago, this is when she would’ve frozen.The knowledge that she was about to take the life of another human was what had done it.A person whose identity and transgressions had nothing to do with her but surely existed because she’d been hired.
But not now.
She was too good at what she did.
Quiet.Move.Strike.
Slipping her gloved fingers in the crack of the rolling closet door—one she’d already oiled and ensured glided soundlessly before her target got home—she inched it open.Then she moved her latex-covered body into the room.
The man’s snores continued.
Moonlight streamed through the parted curtains and a fan blew cool air around.Good thing her hair was knotted and covered.One hair from her head could land her in prison for life.
What kind of asshole slept with a fan on in December?
Her spine stiffened as she sidled around the perimeter of the bed.Unfortunately, the closet was positioned on the opposite side of where he slept, which meant wasting precious seconds.
As she grew closer, his breathing got louder.Her chest tightened—only short, shallow breaths until this part was done.
The man lay on his back.His form was large and muscular and stretched from the top to the foot of the bed.One arm was flung over his head, the other rested on his bare abdomen.Tanned, sinewy skin was visible in the moonlight, as was a shadowed jawline...right above where she needed to strike.
She brought her thumb to the cap of the needle and pushed it off, popping the lid into her pocket, a motion she’d performed countless times.She stopped at the side of the bed and thrust the needle toward his neck.
A meaty hand snapped up, catching her wrist in a bone-breaking hold.Mila’s eyes widened.A scream stopped in her throat.
“What the fuck!”the man bellowed, as he lunged at her.
She punched his thick neck, near the jugular.
A menacing growl erupted from him as he snatched her other hand.
Panic infused her cells, but she refused to give way to the fear that would end her.Throwing her head forward, she slammed her skull against his.
He grunted and leapt from the bed, shoving her against the wall.Instinct overtook terror.She couldn’t get caught.There shouldn’t even be a struggle happening at all.She had to get him under control.
Circling her leg behind his knee, she pushed the wall of his chest.His leg buckled and he went down, taking her with him.They landed on their sides, slamming against the wooden floorboards.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he spat.
In half a second, he was on top of her.She surged up her hips, throwing him into the wall.The action made him break his hold on her wrist.
Yes!
She drove the needle toward his abdomen, ready to plunge the liquid into his flesh and stop his heart.His hand closed around her throat and the needle was pried from her fingers and thrown.
The plastic scattered over the wood.
Menace sparked in his cold eyes.
