Page 44 of White Wings of Desire

"He won't treat you right; young men like him just want to have fun and a good fuck. I've seen the way you look at him, all hopeful that you'll be the escort who scores him for life." I bite the inside of my cheek, struggling to keep a straight face and not cringe at his statement. As if he wants anything different. I know what he’s doing, I’ve had this exact conversation a million times before. He’s trying to sweet-talk me, raising the hopes of a young and naive escort for a bright future with a wealthy man in order to get me to do whatever he wants.

"Are you going to treat me right?" I lean into his embrace and take a sip of my red wine.

"I'm going to spoil you just the way you deserve, Princess," he whispers in my ear, reaches for my glass of wine, then sets it aside and leans back into me, making the first move. His lips brush against my ear, and he places his hand on my thigh, stroking up and down my clothed skin.

A tight knot forms in my stomach as the old man continues to caress me. He's not the first. I've killed plenty of older men, but the circumstances are different. I let out a soft, fake moan to indicate that I like what he is doing and lean into his touch. Closing my eyes, I wait for Noah's signal.

Mr. Williams' hand finds its way through the slit of my dress, his fingers creeping between my legs, brushing against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs where Noah had touched me earlier. Erasing the lingering feeling of Noah’s sweet touch with his own disgusting hands. The images of Noah's hand between my legs, touching me, bringing me pleasure, flashes before my inner eye. Just focus on the memory of him, I tell myself.

At the sound of a soft thud from outside the hotel room I perk up.

Noah is here. I reach for the pistol hidden under the skirt of my dress. I inhale, my breath stuttering, and the old man seems to take it as a sign of arousal. He trails soft kisses from my ear to my cheek, aiming for my mouth. Raising the pistol, I press the barrel against his temple. His eyes go wide, and he tumbles back and falls onto the sofa, leaving room for me to get up and put some distance between us.

"What the hell is going on?" he asks, his tone pleading, and he raises his hands up in surrender. "Somebody help me!" He yells, but gets no response from his security outside the room.

"No one is coming to help you. Now shut up." I keep the pistol aimed at his head. "On the floor, hands behind your head."

He does as he is told and slides off the sofa, laying on his stomach with his hands on top of his head. The sound of the hotel room door lock snapping open draws both of our attention.

"Mr. Holman," Mr. Williams pleads and tries to get up, but I slam my heel into his back, drawing a painful scream from the old man and forcing him back down. "Help me!"

My head jerks toward the sound of familiar heavy footsteps approaching. Noah rounds the corner and strides into the room out of the narrow hallway. The collar of his once-white button-up shirt is covered in splashes of blood, and he wipes his face with his handkerchief. Ignoring the old man's pleas, he drops his black case on the bed before strolling towards me. The look on his face is one of pride.

He's proud of me.

He steps onto Mr. Williams alongside me, holding the man down before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "That's my good girl," he says with a purr. The vibration of his chest as he rolls the R ripples through every part of my body. My legs weaken, and I slump into his embrace. "My perfect dove." He leans forward to plant a soft kiss on my lips. This man will be the end of me. I grab his tie and hold him close, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

"Where did he touch you?" Noah breaks the kiss and whispers against my lips. My fingers curl around Noah's wrist and I direct his hand to the slit of my dress, shoving the fabric aside and force his hand between my thighs. The rough but warm skin of his fingertip tingles against my sensitive skin. A low, disapproving grunt escapes Noah's chest.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!? Kill that bitch!" Mr. Williams screams at Noah, who pulls away from me and rolls his eyes.

"Not gonna happen." Noah lets me go and draws his pistol from his waistband, pointing it at Mr. Williams. "Unless we're talking about you, bitch," he says.

Mr. Williams’s eyes go wide, and he tries to push himself to his feet. I stumble backward from the commotion. But Noah won't let him, using his full body weight to pin the man in place. "You traitor," the old man screams, to which Noah responds with a mocking laugh.

"Mr. Williams, you should know better than to trust me," Noah says. He jerks his head up and looks at me, nodding to the side. "Give us some space, Baby." As instructed, I step back and put a few feet between us. Noah squats down in front of the old man, grabs a handful of the few strands of hair, and forces Mr. Williams to look at him.

"What do you want?" Mr. Williams asks, his voice cracking. "More money? You can have it all."

"No, I got enough money out of you," Noah says, gently tapping the old man on the cheek with his pistol. "I'm here to kill you so that My Little Dove can spread her wings and fly free."

I cringe when Mr. Williams' eyes land on me, and a look of realization spreads across his face. "You're the whore who killed my son," he yells.

Fueled by anger, the man forces himself to his feet and tries to escape Noah. I take a few steps back but Noah tackles the man back to the ground and kneels on top of him.

"That's not how Mommy taught us to treat beautiful ladies," he says. "I guess I'll have to be the one to teach you some manners in your old age."

Chapter 33

Evelyn

My throat tightens, and my body blocks the air from reaching my lungs. Cold sweat trickles down my neck, and my fingers are freezing. The sight unfolding before my eyes is nauseating. It’s as if someone has flipped a switch inside Noah. His pupils dilate, the beautiful green fades into the background, and his expression morphs into a feral mask. With ease, he drags Mr. Williams across the floor to a nearby chair, lifts the old man off the ground, and sets him down.

"Dove, would you be so kind as to unlock my case for me?" he asks, his voice dripping with venom. My heart leaps in my chest, and I rush to the bed to fetch the black hard case. "The code is two-seven-two-seven." With trembling fingers, I punch in the numbers until the lock springs open. "Can you hand me the cable ties?"

"Of course." I search the contents of the case, grab the bundle of cable ties tied together with a red rubber band, and pass it to him. "Noah, what are you going to do with him?" I ask, standing next to him, watching him tie the man to the chair.

"I'm going to have some fun with him." Noah gets up and turns to face me, taking my hands in his and stopping me from picking my cuticles. I hadn't even noticed that I had started. "Is that okay with you?" He brings my hands up to his face and plants soft kisses on my beaten fingertips.

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