Page 8 of White Wings of Desire

"Quick and painless? It's been a while since you took the easy way out," he says with a grin. "What if she fights back? I mean, she is an ex-hitwoman." Kyle teases. Once on the porch, he leans against the railing and snatches the pack of cigarettes out of my hands to help himself. I lean against the railing next to him.

"If she wants it the hard way, she can have it." I inhale deeply from the cigarette stuck between my lips. My chest burns at the familiar, relaxing sensation of nicotine filling my lungs. I puff out the remaining smoke before speaking again. "But I would like to avoid dragging this out much longer."

"Why? You seem to be having fun stalking the poor girl." He chuckles and hands the package back to me after lighting his cigarette.

"Yes, a little too much for my liking."

"What do you mean?"

"The longer I watch her, the more I become obsessed with her. You should have seen her when she took on that jogger who happened to be following her by accident." I chuckle at the memory. "I have to admit I was a little jealous of the way she held him by the collar and threatened him."

Kyle's facial expression changes, and deep lines of confusion form on his forehead. "I can't believe what I'm hearing; you sound like you have a crush on her."

I roll my eyes and turn to take a look at my backyard. "I don't have crushes. I don't do emotions. I don't do feelings. They only cause trouble."

"Better not. She’s your target. Imagine if word got out that the infamous Dove Killer has a crush on his pretty little target." Kyle grins.

"I know who I would have to kill first." I turn to Kyle, a serious look on my face. Despite our long friendship and history together, there are things that neither of us will tolerate, and we are both well aware that the other would kill if it came down to it.

Kyle shakes his head and laughs. "You know I'm kidding," he says, trying to calm the rising tension between us. "But it does sound like you need to blow off some steam; why don't you call one of your escorts and clear your head before you do the job?"

As if I hadn't thought of that myself... it’s simple, pent-up sexual frustration that fuels my obsession. But it isn't. I tried, and nothing has changed, except that it got worse. In the middle of the act, I started comparing the escort to Evelyn, her beauty, the way she carried herself, absolutely everything. I couldn't even finish without imagining her. But there is no way I’m going to admit that to Kyle. "No need for that. I will get it done just fine.” I stomp out the rest of my cigarette in the ashtray on the railing.

"If you say so." Kyle shrugs and does the same with his cigarette. "When is the event?"

"Friday."

"Hm, that means she has a few days left. She better make the most of it," he points out. "Have you given her a warning yet?"

"Yes, by now, she knows it's me. But she doesn't know the when." I lean back against the railing and cross my arms over my chest.

"Are you going to let her know when, or will you surprise her?"

"I'll let her know on Friday morning." I can't help the slight smirk that plays on my lips.

"You sick fucker, I can't wait to hear all about it." Kyle chuckles. Then he looks away from me, and his gaze lands on my house. "Say, is Mrs. Collins cooking you a fresh dinner tonight?"

I look up at the kitchen window, where my housekeeper, Mrs. Collins, is busy at the sink right in front of the window, overlooking my backyard. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"Then I'll stay for dinner! It's been a while since I've had a good home-cooked meal." He pushes himself off the railing, heading for the glass patio door that leads back into the house.

I roll my eyes. "How about you hire your own housekeeper instead of living on fast food?"

"Why should I hire someone when I can save money by just coming here and having dinner with you?" He grins. "Are you coming?" He pulls the door open.

"Sure." I push myself off the railing and follow him back into the house.

Chapter 9

Evelyn

Up until about five minutes ago, I was still thrilled to be going to Mr. King's daughter's wedding: to enjoy the day and forget everything that is going on, even if it is only for one night. I wanted to enjoy the party, get drunk, and maybe find a hookup. Surely, someone would have caught my attention among the hundreds of people. But I guess I don't deserve peace.

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, looking down at the pile of white feathers scattered all over my bedroom floor. They fell out of my garment bag where I had stored my dress for today. Of all the days he could have chosen, this is one of the happiest days for a couple. A day that is supposed to be a symbol of love–he wants to turn into a day of sorrow. How did he even know I was going to the wedding?

I look around my bedroom, trying to find some other hint, but there’s nothing. Other than the feathers, there's only the little note that I'm holding in my hands. I take a deep breath and unfold the paper, which reads. See you tonight, My Little Dove. Written in stunningly clean cursive handwriting.

I picked up the dress from the store three days ago, and when I checked to make sure everything was okay, there were no feathers in the bag. Meaning, he must have been in my apartment at some point in the last forty-eight hours.

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