Page 17 of White Wings of Desire

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I say, trying to sound reassuring. "It was a really odd situation, and I didn't want to drag anyone into it."

"And you're sure he's not following you anymore?" Lily babbles, her head resting on my shoulder while she peers up at me with big puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, a hundred percent." Despite the blatant lie, a broad smile spreads across my face.

"Then we must celebrate the sad asshole is gone!" Lily reaches for her next shot glass of tequila and urges the group to do the same. I hesitate, well aware that I have nothing to celebrate. After another round of shots and more superficial questions about my so-called stalker, the group moves on, and we fall into a light-hearted conversation while enjoying our drinks.

"I have an idea," Lily blurts out, banging her fists on the solid wooden table. "You know my grandparent’s cabin outside of town? How about we go there for a girls' weekend?" She suggests, her face beaming with excitement. There are still a few weeks of warm weather left, and we haven't done anything this year in terms of a girls' trip. Everyone else was too busy with work, and I was, to put it mildly, preoccupied.

"But don't your grandparents spend the whole summer up there?" I ask, remembering how we used to spend a couple of weeks every summer with her grandparents to get away from the city during summer break. At the time, it was a chance for me to get away from my parents.

"They usually do, but they came back to New York earlier than normal, and they told me I could go up there for the late summer if I wanted to." Lily smiles. "What do you all think about going this weekend?"

Getting away from all the chaos, even for a single weekend, sounds like exactly what I need right now. A change of scenery, a few days away from the city. A break from his watchful eyes that seem to be everywhere. There's a chance it will upset him, but even if he notices I'm gone and comes looking for me. I'm with my friends, a group of innocent people. I doubt he would hurt them.

"I think it's a great idea!" I say in a cheerful voice and wrap my arms around Lily. We both take a look around the group, who eventually agrees, and with that, the decision is made: We will go to the cabin for the weekend. The group erupts into another round of lively chatter, planning the weekend, what we will do, and what we’ll need. When suddenly, a loud, deafening car horn disturbs not only us, but everyone around us. I jump up in my chair and immediately turn toward the sound.

Chapter 16

Noah

I slump back into the black leather seat of my RS7, a cigarette stuck between my lips, and chew on the orange filter in an attempt to ease the irritation bubbling up inside of me. I just finished a meeting with Mr. Williams; the old man's words still ring through my head. I knew he wouldn't be thrilled to find out she was still alive. The man is desperate for her death in a way I have never seen in any of my clients before, and I have had my fair share of desperate men who wanted to get rid of their opponents before they got the chance to get rid of them. When he called her a worthless and ugly bitch, I really had a hard time remaining professional; even now, I want nothing more than to go back to his office and put a bullet in his head. I have already crossed every possible boundary; there is nothing professional about this job anymore, and I absolutely hate myself for it.

Tilting my head toward the passenger side of my car, I have a perfect view of her and her friends sitting at one of the outdoor tables at their favorite restaurant. They are all dressed up for what I assume is their girls' night out. She is wearing a beautiful flowy red summer dress with short puffy sleeves, a deep square neck that exposes her collarbone, and her hair styled in big waves neatly tucked behind her ears. Their table is filled with empty glasses, and from their behavior, I can tell they are already quite drunk.

I sigh and take the cigarette out of my mouth, putting the remaining ash, already dangerously close to the filter, out in the small ashtray that rests in the cup holder of the center console. Resting my elbow on the armrest, I prop my chin in the palm of my hand, my fingers drumming rhythmically against my cheek. I watch as she raises her glass of wine to her lips, and the way her throat contracts when she swallows the deep red liquid. The group laughs a lot, and every time her face lights up at something someone has said, my heart flutters.

With each passing day, my desire not to kill her becomes stronger. But if I don't get this one done and word gets out that I have failed, others will come after me and try to kill me. Right now, I’ve got everyone off my back, and it took years to build up the kind of reputation that would allow me to live in peace outside of the business. Also, I would be risking not only my own peace, but hers as well. The information she has about me and possible ways to kill me would be valuable to everyone.

I raise my eyebrows in curiosity as the girl next to her, with long, shiny caramel blonde hair, throws herself at her. Lily O'Brien, they have been best friends since middle school. She is also twenty-six years old, works as a commercial model, but also aspires to be an actress. I've seen her audition tapes; it’s not bad. I think she could make it. They huddle together, arm in arm, laughing at something one of the other girls said.

I sigh, close my eyes, and run a hand over my face. I want nothing more than to get out of the car, grab her from the table, throw her in my trunk, take her somewhere safe, and lock her up where no one can find us. Reaching for the steering wheel, I run my fingers over the smooth leather before gripping it tightly and stretching my arms out, pushing myself back into the seat. I take one deep breath after another to calm the itch within to jump out of the car, and do just that.

But it doesn't work. I grip the steering wheel even tighter. My whole body trembles from fighting my primal instinct, and I let out a frantic yell, banging my head against the smooth leather, ignoring the awful loud horn of my car. As I pull back to catch my breath from the scream, my chest heaves rapidly. Looking up, I see the people in front of my car staring at me. My head jerks back to the passenger side to look at the restaurant.

Everyone, including her, stares in my direction. As soon as our eyes meet, I can see the horror cross her face—her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open at the realization that it’s me. Honestly, I'm surprised she didn't notice me sooner, it’s not like my front windows are tinted. But I guess my car just doesn't stand out in a neighborhood like this. Taking another deep breath, I push my tousled hair out of my face, raise my hand to give her a wave of acknowledgment, and flash her a little smile.

I then hit the start button and steer the car out of the parking lot. I steal one last glance at her before pushing the gas pedal, turning my attention to the navigation system for a brief moment. The screen showing an out-of-state destination. I have one last job that needs my attention before I'm completely free to focus on just her, my beautiful dove.

"Do you want to grab a drink when we're done here?" Kyle's voice reaches me from behind. I stand in front of an old steel table, making sure my knives are ready for the little game we have planned. Turning around, I find Kyle tying our victim, the poor soul, to the dirty old wooden table we found in the basement of the abandoned building.

"Sorry, I already have plans after this. Maybe next time," I answer and watch Kyle tie the last knot around the man's ankles before he stands up and crosses his arms over his chest, his leather jacket crinkling with the motion.

"Let me guess, is it still that girl?" he asks in a teasing tone, and furrows his eyebrows, "You're really taking your time with her. I'm starting to worry about your sanity." He walks over to me, hopping onto the table beside me. We both look at the still-unconscious man tied to the table in front of us. Kyle grabs my pack of cigarettes and once again helps himself to one of mine instead of his goddamn own. I twirl one of my butterfly knives between my fingers, not looking at my friend.

"Let's just say it got a little complicated," I admit with caution. Kyle is my friend, my only friend, and I trust him, but it feels strange to admit out loud that something like this is happening to me. Because it never has. I never fail.

"Complicated? What do you mean?"

"I don't really want to kill her." I look at Kyle, who has his head turned towards me, his eyes wide, and his face shows genuine interest.

"Well, this is a... first for you," he says with an amused chuckle, "what's so special about her?"

I push myself off the table and approach our victim. Needing to keep my hands busy, I begin to cut the fabric of his clothes, exposing the man's wrinkled skin.

"She's beautiful, resilient, and willing to fight me. Oh, and she felt incredible around my cock," I babble on without thinking about my words and their actual meaning.

A set of hands lands on my shoulder. Kyle yanks me around and pushes me against the table where our victim lies. His eyes are blown wide open, surprise etched on his face. "Wait a second, you fucked her?" he asks with a raised voice.

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