Page 1 of Shifted

PROLOGUE

Hope Taylor

I watched him on the phone as he paced around his room, restless. He couldn’t see me. I was a building away, squatted down against the cold concrete, sniper pointed. He almost made it look too easy to claim him as my prize, the worst man to exist. Well, maybe not thee worst, but up there.

Vincent Codesco has been one of my targets for years, and now that I’ve found him, the chase hasn’t seemed as satisfying as I’d hoped.

He was the prey, and I was the predator. But after stalking him for so long, and now that I have a clean shot, I began to ponder why it was so easy. A man ranking high on most-wanted lists was standing beside a glass window, almost asking for a death wish. How could one person in hiding for so long be so careless?

As I pulled away from the sniper's lens, I saw movement. The building beside me was lower in height, so I spotted a man as I looked over it. He stood in all black with a mask shielding his identity as he watched him. He was setting up his equipment, waiting to take the same shot as me. But I’d be damned if this man took the one kill I’d been waiting years for.

I could tell he felt watched as he trailed along the side, looking anywhere but up. But little did he know his killer was found above rather than below.

I draw my gun out from my boot, and as I aim it towards him, he aims at my target. He sets himself ready in position, but he hesitates for a moment. The air in front of me is fogged from the frigid conditions. Even a mask wrapped around my face fails to keep me warm. But it was as if he knew I was here. His eyes leave Vincent, and he looks up at me instead.

His emerald gaze greets mine but devilishly. As I expect him to panic, he smirks. As if this is some game of life and death that I am willing to play. The man hidden behind the mask steps away from his weapon like some idiot and instead opens his arms.

“Take your best shot, princess.” He shouts, leaving me surprised as he taunts me. As if I wouldn’t do it, but he simply underestimates me. As I lift my gun, I aim right at his torso, and as it fires off, I’m amazed. Nobody can outrun a bullet even if they see it coming most times, but the man moved swiftly, not a scratch on him. He now leaned against the railing on the roof, and as he looked back to me, still aimed, he smirked again.

“That was cute,” the masked man mused.

“I have a job to do, and I’d rather you not be a disruption,” I said, irked by his presence. But then he stood again, arms open, just as before, waiting for me to fire. But this time, I didn’t; instead, I lowered my gun.

“Come on, take your aim,” he said carelessly. But as I didn’t shoot, he turned back to his weapon as if I weren’t here, and he aimed at Vincent again.

“That’s my kill. Touch him, and I swear to God I won’t think twice about killing you next, and that’s a promise,” he sat unalarmed, almost as if he wanted me to kill him.

Instead of wasting more time, I shuffle back to my position, and as I look back into the room, I see Vincent seated comfortably on an upholstered couch. As I take my aim, I hear a gunshot and then watch as it unfolds. The shots rang from the weapon of the masked man, but the mission failed as we discovered the windows were bulletproof.

Fuck.

Within seconds, I watch as a swarm of men in suits swarm into the room as Vincent is dragged out and almost tackled. I glanced at the other roof as the masked man quickly packed his things. I follow closely in pursuit and promptly pack my weapon away, and without thinking, I jump down to the other roof. Somebody could shoot us at any moment, but I don’t care. He turned for a quick second to see me, still lacking any form of fear.

“I’m afraid this is where we part ways, Angel.” His words take me by surprise because this man seems to know me already—the notorious assassin, The Angel of Death, a name gifted to me years ago by the media.

Before I could respond, he turned and then began running. But I was always up for a chase, significantly if it helped me escape the men charging up the stairs to this building. He headed towards the edge, and within seconds, he took a grappling hook out from his bag and left it to the side to scale the building. I could easily remove it, allowing him to plummet to his death. But that wouldn’t be as fun; it’s the easy way out for him.

As he dropped down, I watched him begin to scale the side, quickly moving down. I did something more dangerous than expected. Even though I’m not prepared to scale a building, I was up for a challenge.

As he makes it halfway down, loosely gripping the rope, I pray I don’t burn. I hop over the railing to the side of the building. I put all my trust in his rope and slid down, holding tight as he made his way to the bottom. The rope burns my legs as I slide down fast, and as he makes it to the ground, he unfortunately breaks my fall. I hear him groan as he presses against the ground, and I quickly crawl off. My ass was probably gaining a bruise for the morning. I look up at the brick building and down at him ten stories apart. He remains vulnerable on the ground as I stand beside him.

“So, this has been fun.” He looks up at me as I speak; today wouldn’t be the day I killed him. I now had a new game to play with this masked man.

Before he could get another word in, I left swiftly into the darkness of the night. The sounds of sirens and beeping filled the noise of the restless city as I moved through Kenmore. Fenway was just a mile away, and I could see the lights in the distance. I took side roads through neighborhoods, finding myself free of any chance of those men catching me.

Inspecting the small front yards of the brownstones, I’m shocked to see no frost. It was colder than usual this time of year, and an October frost happened at some point, but it wasn't normal for it to be this cold around this time of year. We just escaped the heat of September and were heading straight into winter before enjoying the fall's crisp air. The leaves had just turned orange and brown, but they’d probably die by the first snow.

My boots clatter on the ground louder than I would like. I know I’m not waking up the whole neighborhood, but I’m not exactly quiet, either. And a masked woman in a dark outfit at one in the morning isn’t the safest sight.

Ahead, I see the street I have to turn on and move faster before doorbell cameras can catch me. The news would have a field day with an actual photo of me. Tonight, I was less discreet than usual and almost asked for it.

Turning the road, I’m greeted by a black glove as it moves over my exposed mouth. Before I can make a noise, those emerald eyes greet me again, but this time, he pushes me against the wall of someone's home. Lifting his finger to his covered mouth, he warns me to stay quiet and then points left. A black SUV waited at the end of the corner. We weren’t in sight due to the darkness, but I would be if I moved a foot.

Taking staggered breaths as his hand covered my mouth, he slowly removed it. He signals us to move back toward the street I was walking on, and we shift towards it. But as we hear the engine of the car start again, he pushes me against the wall and presses his body against mine while they drive by. His hands held my waist tight as if he were shielding me, an odd move on his part. But as he moves back slightly, his eyes don’t meet mine; instead, he stares at my visible lips. As I still breathe at a staggered pace, he lifts his hand and presses it against my beating heart. Moments ago, I thought I was as good as dead or, even worse, a captive.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?” he asks, and I don’t say a word; instead, my gaze remains on his emerald one. For some reason, something about them fails me to pull away. It's almost as if they are trapping me. I can’t understand what it was about them, but I’m eager to know.

“I’m not,” I mumble loud enough for him to hear.

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