Page 4 of White Wings of Desire

Her face twists, her concern becoming more pronounced. "As in stalking you?" she says with a raised voice, the panic showing on her face.

My eyes widen and I raise my hands and wave for her to be quiet, pleading with her to lower her voice so we don't attract any unnecessary attention. It's bad enough that my so-called stalker is probably listening to us. I don't need anyone else to hear. "Yeah, I think I'm going crazy."

"Have you been to the police yet?" she asks, now in a more hushed voice, which gets lost in the lively chatter of the other guests in the restaurant.

I shake my head and sigh. The police are the last people I need sticking their noses into my business. They will cause more problems than they will help. It was already a pain in the ass to get rid of them after the initial shooting. They were completely outraged that I didn’t press charges and wrote it off as an unfortunate accident. And after all, they wouldn't be able to protect me anyway. There have been numerous incidents where the police have failed to protect someone receiving threats from a hitman in the past.

"No," I say. "They’re not going to do anything unless something really serious happens anyway." I reach for the bottle of champagne and pour myself another glass. I really need the alcohol today.

"But wouldn't it be beneficial if they knew something was going on at least?"

"Maybe, but I can't even give them a description of what the person looks like."

"So you haven't actually seen your stalker yet?" Lily raises her eyebrows.

"No, maybe I'm just going crazy and there really isn't anyone stalking me." I chuckle with nervousness as I try my best to find humor in the situation that is wearing me out, leaving me feeling physically and emotionally drained.

"I don't think so," Lily says. "Your gut has never failed you, and I believe you when you say someone is following you."

"Thank you. It’s nice to hear that."

"Do you want me to stay with you for a few days, just to make sure everything's okay?" she asks, reaching out to take my hand in hers. Her thumb brushes over the back of my hand.

"No, I don't think that's necessary. Besides, I don't want to put you in a situation that could be potentially dangerous." A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, and I squeeze her hand in an attempt to reassure her. I don't know who’s after me and whether he has any morals. The chances of it being someone who will spare the life of someone innocent aren’t very high, and the last thing I want is for Lily to get dragged into this. She has so many dreams and goals. She recently landed her first small role in a movie, and I want her to be able to fulfill her dreams.

"Okay, but don't hesitate to call me at any time, I'm here for you."

"Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind." I sigh and shift my attention to look out the window. Scanning the crowd of hundreds of people passing by the restaurant, I envy them as they go about their day like nothing is out of the ordinary. Not having to worry that someone is lurking in the next dark alley, waiting to pounce and kill you.

My eyes land on the other side of the street, where a group of people wait for the traffic light to turn green. I narrow my eyes when someone in the group catches my attention. A man dressed in all black; from a distance, it looks like a black suit with a grayish turtleneck underneath. It's almost thirty-two°C, a beautiful summer day. Is he crazy? Feeling my own body heat up at the sight of the man, my lips begin to feel dry. My tongue slips out of its own accord, and I run it over my lips, to moisten them while my eyes remain glued to the man.

From afar, I can see that he has light brown, messy hair, slicked back, though a few loose strands frame his face. From what I can see, I would rate him handsome; exactly my type. Which means... a hitman. I knew something was off about him. Is he staring at me?

My heartbeat quickens, pounding against my chest as anxiety begins to overwhelm me. Is he the one hired to kill me? Ever since we got here, I've had the feeling that someone is watching me and he is looking in the direction of the restaurant. But that's impossible. I must be hallucinating. There is no way he is looking directly at me. He is probably just checking out the restaurant, maybe looking for a place to go for lunch later during his break, I tell myself in a pathetic attempt to calm my anxiety. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. When I open my eyes, I turn my attention to Lily for a quick second.

"Hey, you see that guy over there? Dressed like it's winter?" I point out the window in the man's direction.

"Who?" Lily asks, her eyes following the direction I point out. But in the brief second that I took my eyes off the man, the street light changed from red to green, allowing the crowd of waiting pedestrians to cross the street. I search the crowd for the man's messy hair, but he's no longer there. He’s gone.

I think I'm really going crazy. Was he there, or did I just imagine him? I look down at the glass of champagne in my hand and put it down with a heavy sigh.

"Don't mind me. I think I've had enough to drink for today."

Chapter 4

Noah

The only sounds in the cold and otherwise empty office building are the clicking of my expensive leather shoes on the ceramic tiles and the fast, uneven steps of the nervous security guards following me. It is nine p.m., after office hours, and all the hard-working employees have already gone home. The only ones left are my client's private security guards, and they know better than to try and stop me; the last time they did, two of them ended up in the hospital.

I halt in front of a tall office door with a sign that reads Chairman, Mr. Williams. To be honest, I could think of a lot of better things to do than pay this old fuck a visit. But I can't let this slide for too long, and he owes me some answers for sending me to this disaster of a job. I glance at the two guards behind me. Both of them flinch, turning away, pretending they weren't looking at me. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing the fear in someone's eyes, especially when you're the reason for it.

I turn my attention back to the door in front of me and don’t hesitate. Without announcing my entrance, I force the door open. A group of older men appear in front of me, sitting around the conference table in the center of the room, all of them startled by the sudden intrusion of their meeting. I step inside and shut the door behind me, making sure to lock the door to the office to prevent the security guards from entering.

Walking up to the large table, I unbutton my suit jacket in one fluid motion, giving the men in front of me a clear view of the pistol safely tucked into my chest holster. The ones closest to me jump, pushing their chairs farther back to get away from me, but no matter how far they push, if I wanted to, I could kill each of them with a single shot. A small smirk pulls at the corner of my lips. These men are all the same. They want to play with the big boys, they want to be perceived as dangerous, and they hire hitmen to get rid of their opponents. But in the end, they are just as scared of us as the people they hire us to kill.

"Mr. Holman, to what do we owe this rather unexpected visit?" The man at the head of the table, Mr. Williams, speaks, breaking the awkward silence. He rises from his chair, trying to hide his fear from the other men present. But I can see through his façade. He’s scared.

"I'm here to discuss some important matters regarding my job," I say in a harsh tone that underlines the seriousness of the situation.

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