Page 24 of Stalking His Target

“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say, doing my best to project respect for a man I truly despise.

I take the gaudy stairs up to our bedroom and find our luggage already waiting for us. I close the door, and Layla collapses onto the bed, exhaling a deep sigh of relief. “Thank God that went quickly. And thank you for being so well-mannered with him.”

“Am I normally not well-mannered?” I tease, bringing out one of those sunny smiles of hers that never fails to make me melt.

“That’s not what I meant,” she giggles. “Hey, do you wanna shower? They’re super spacious here. Lots of room for…activities.”

“Sure, honey. Just give me a minute to unpack a bit. Then I’ll join you.”

Layla stands and comes over to me. I try to see the intent in her eyes, but all I see is beauty. Does she suspect me still, or not? With all my spy training, I still don’t know.

“Okay, babe,” she replies, kissing me softly. “Just don’t make me wait too long.”

I watch the swaying of her hips as she walks away from me. Her ass looks so phenomenal in yoga pants, and my cock awakens, growing beneath my jeans. I go over to my suitcase and begin to unpack. Once I hear the water go on, I wedge my fingers between the miniscule gap in the inner zipper to revealthe hidden compartment. My ghost-phone and gun are both still there.

I retrieve the phone and walk over to the window and dial Neal. He answers on the first ring.

“You in?”

“I’m in and transmitting. This is the location. The home of Pablo Hernandez.”

I hear Neal clap hard once with excitement. “Should I send a team?”

I hesitate before responding. “No. I can handle the target.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve got this,” I reply. “I’m going dark for now. I’ll make it happen tonight. Just have an evac ready for me. Getting out on my own may not be possible.”

“Roger that. Good luck.”

I hang up, switch off my phone, and stash it back in my suitcase. I remove the ghost-gun, a simple, short barrel of 3D-printed polymer with a single bolt-action trigger at its base. I inspect it, lever the action once to make sure it’s working, and am just about to replace it when I hear Layla’s voice.

“Youhavebeen lying to me.”

I look up to see her standing in the bathroom door, fully dressed, staring at me in absolute horror. “Layla!” I’m blown. She may not be a spy, but she can definitely recognize a firearm when she sees one. “I thought you were–”

“In the shower?” she asks. “Yeah, I just turned on the water and listened at the door. Guess you’re not the only one who knows how to hide their movements.”

“Sweetheart, I–”

“Who were you talking to?” she asks. “And is that a gun?”

There’s no lie that can save me now. I’ve been brought out of the darkness and into the light. But maybe the truth still has a chance.

“Yes.” I nod. “It is. But–”

But before I can finish, Layla darts for the door.

My training kicks into gear, and I spring up and snatch her up in my arms just before she reaches it, clamping my hand over her mouth as she struggles to scream.

“Calm down,” I whisper, adrenaline instantly pulsing through my veins. Christ, it’s all falling apart now.

I carry Layla, kicking and thrashing like an angry cat, over to the bed and press her down onto the mattress. She bites hard into the palm of my hand, drawing blood, but I keep it there. If anyone hears her screams, we’re both dead. They’ll know who I am–what I am–and they’ll assume Layla also knew and brought me here.

“Please, calm down,” I plead. “I’m not going to hurt you. But I do need to keep you quiet. So I apologize for this.”

I quickly strip a pillow of its case, then pull my hand away from her mouth and force the fabric inside, gagging her. My hand may be bleeding, but my heart is dying as I tie off the gag behind her head and pin her arms to her sides.

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