Page 8 of Deadly Sights

He’s mocking me, and I won’t let that stand. The mystery man from the club has become my new pet project. When I find him, I’m going to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.

After searching my apartment for bugs and bidding Chelsea goodbye, I pack Leaper into her carrier and ready myself to leave. In an outfit ofmychoosing and wearing the underwear I selected, I celebrate my petty victory; I look damn good in my chosen outfit.

My first destination isn’t the airport but my bunker. Hidden under a section of storage units owned by my shell company, is my command post and artillery center. It’s where I plan the hits my organization contracts out to me, and if necessary, whereI design the weapons I’ll use that will leave no trace of my presence.

Before I lead anyone there, especially the man who slipped through my defenses, I take a circuitous route. The tingling awareness I felt last night is noticeably missing, but I’m not taking chances. My identity depends on my caution. I switch cars in an underground garage halfway to my destination.

I breathe a cautious sigh of relief as I pull into the storage company where I keep my stash. For this trip, I’ll leave the high-end artillery at home. I walk down the halls in the tunnel until I reach the miniature laboratory. Once I select the materials I need, I engage the extra security and head to the private airport.

On the chartered plane, Leaper spends her time seducing the flight staff with her energetic antics, tip-toeing while investigating every nook and crevice on the plane, and requests to play fetch with the wool balls I brought to keep her busy.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, I fall into a fitful sleep. Unlike the last time, every noise, loud and faint, jars me awake. It happens again and I give up trying to rest in the air in time for the gourmet meal. Flying private with Leaper means she doesn’t get the standard fare either.

The flight attendant sets a plate with a specially prepared meal for the cat. Beside the setting is a small vase with a flower. Leaper sits on her hind legs, watching me for what I do first.

Where was the waiting when the interloper broke into my apartment?

I shake off the thought. When I return will be soon enough to handle him. The moment I take up my silverware, Leaper digs into her food with gusto. The small resentment I bear towards the feline melts away. I can never stay mad at her.

Who else waits patiently at my door to greet me when I step through it? I have no one else. My friends, though they fill a gap inside me, can’t give me the unwavering trust and loyalty Leaperdoes. She is my family, by my side to offer comfort when I’m in pain, companionship when I’m lonely, and entertainment when I’m down. No one, especially a man who breaks into my home and feeds her, will ever come between us.

I finish my meal of lamb chops with rosemary potatoes and honey-glazed carrots when the attendant offers me a slice of chocolate cake. I close my eyes against the temptation and reminder of last night at the club. I suck in a sharp breath and grit my teeth before swiftly declining the offer. The immediate association of my favorite dessert with the stranger from the club is another reason to add to the mountain piling up of why he deserves my wrath. I squeeze my hand into a fist. Instead of satisfying my curiosity about his taste, I will be forever in doubt regarding what I’m missing.

I can’t be missing… I’mnotmissing anything by not kissing that man.

Ooh, I hate not having a name to go with the lips, and eyes, and nose, and those thick arms, and those big hands.Dammit Nadira! Think about something, anything else.

Right! At a time like this, Leaper proves why we’ll always have an unbreakable bond. She bounds into my lap to curl in a ball. Soon, her purring calms my thoughts, and I turn on my tablet to plan for my legitimate meeting.

By the time the pilot announces our descent, everything is right in my world. We land and I visit the site of my operation. Although I have building layouts and security images that helped me plan my mission, I prefer to visit the site in person. I soak in the place’s energy, get an idea of foot traffic, and the viability of the escape route I selected.

Satisfied with my discovery, I seek my mark and lay the groundwork for my assignment, while avoiding the mountain of security surrounding him, his wives, and his children. Before returning to my hotel, I make one last stop. My efforts are wellworth the outcome when Leaper greets me as if I’d been gone all day and not a few hours. As I feed her the treats from my time on the road, I plan out my next day.

My schedule will be busy. First, satisfy my business client, then assassinate the sitting emir of the Arab nation of Ras Al Najib.

CHAPTER 4

A KILL INTERRUPTED

Nadira

Make it look like an illness.

The Emir, a seventy-five-year-old gentleman, is attending a political summit. Dignitaries, royalty from numerous nations, aides, security, influence chasers, and more pack the ballroom. The combined body heat causes the staff to open the patio doors, permitting the brisk winter air to cool the room.

I spy my quarry. Dressed in the hotel’s official uniform, I blend in with the wait staff and mill close to him. He wears the traditional white thawb and a patterned kaffiyeh. Although I don’t research my marks’ backgrounds, it’s hard not to know about this one. His handsomeness makes people forget about his cruelty, but my job isn’t to bring feelings into my work. Am I elated that after tonight he will no longer torture women and children? Almost as much as being the person to end him.

His bodyguard stops my roaming with a hand on my arm. “Fetch the emir a glass of nabidh.”

I do as requested, making sure to use the specialized ice prepared just for the emir before returning to the bodyguard who gave me the initial order. The chemical compound in the hotel’s custom-shaped ice ball will have the desired effect.

He takes the tray with the drink and approaches the emir’s table. I don’t envy the rapid symptoms the man will develop tonight, but it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. As I step back to find the unobtrusive hiding space I picked the day before, the tingling along my nape returns. I search the floor, unwilling to discount my instincts this time. I shift to the left and a high-powered whizz passes by my ear. Then the screaming begins.

I spin to see the emir slumped over his table, a bright red spot making a mockery of the pristine white tunic he’s wearing. The spot grows, making it obvious that someone shot and killed the man.

As the truth sinks in, fury replaces my calm assessment. Someone stole my kill! I recall the whizzing sound to figure out the trajectory of the bullet. When I identify the location where the shot must have come from, I search the ceiling for any movement. While chaos reigns behind me, my intense focus pays off. A deep shadow moves eastward.

After discarding a few options, I bank on where I would make my exit route if my job had been to make things look like an assassination. With haste driving me to catch the person who’s marred my perfect record, I rush to the place in my mind: the office building three structures away.

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