Page 28 of The Handler
“Where to, boss?” They were stopped at a light.
On his phone, Enzo selected the Sunflower’s address and launched the navigation. “Go whereshetells you.” He put the cell in the center console.
“You got it, boss.”
Enzo appreciated the respect, but it wouldn’t be enough to keep the idiot around. As soon as he was no longer useful, he was gone. He closed his eyes and slipped into an alert sleep.
Hours later, they rolled to a stop. Enzo awoke immediately. The darkness hid them well, but the inn had an empty feel. No lights beyond outdoor security. A static emptiness weighted down the interior. Enzo would bet nobody was inside to hide from. Besides some standard security lighting, the place was dark, and the parking spots in front of the three-story Victorian were empty. A simple sedan awaited its owner under a carport on the far edge of the property. “Get me the plate number of that car.”
Dumbass immediately hopped out of the car and sauntered along the sidewalk, a motion-detecting light popping on as he approached. Enzo’s gaze darted to the front door. Nothing. His guy paused long enough to write the plate number on his palm and then beelined back. Subtle was not the guy’s middle name. But if someone were watching, they would have emerged by the time he returned to the car. Enzo rolled his eyes but used the plate number to confirm it was the bitch’s ride.
Still no movement around the house. The neighbor's windows glowed with blue television light. Random windows illuminated or darkened. Enzo seethed. He’d have to wait to get his hands on Mia. But that didn’t mean he would leave without taking any action.
Enzo dug into the side pocket of his carry-on and grabbed a small geo-locator. He strolled up the sidewalk, crossing at the corner. He walked down the side street to look at the back access to the property. Bingo. Access and concealment from possible prying eyes of the neighbors. Another vehicle, a small white SUV, was in the back parking space. He came to the car in shadows, a rental. Not Mia’s. No, hers was the sedan. Had to be. Slowly, he made his way to the carport and clipped his tracker to the undercarriage. As soon as it moved, he’d know.
A good start, but not enough. He needed to make a statement. Put some fear in that bitch and make her piss her pants before he ended her. Maybe he’d take his time killing her, make up for some of that torture she put his father through. Keep her in a cage and beat the fuck out of her until he got tired of her and finished the job. A smile teased the corners of his mouth.
He considered the large dark windows—too loud and a stray shard could be a problem. A single kick did nothing to the rear wooden door. Enzo slid his weapon from the interior pocket of his coat and attached the suppressor. The tinypop popwouldn’t even register through the neighbor’s double-paned windows. The shots pulverized the lock. He kicked again, satisfied when the fucker swung away from the splintered casing.
He flicked on the flashlight on his phone. Aw, so fucking cute. Little tchotchkes everywhere. A metal sunflower sculpture on the mantel and baskets with blankets rolled up in them like kindling.
All this luxury and coziness pissed him off.
He flicked out the new blade with a satisfying snick, prepared to inflict maximum damage. Not as satisfying as blood, but he’d wait. The blade would dance across her skin soon enough.
She’d been living in heaven while his father had died in hell. He should burn the place down to the motherfucking ground. He stomped through the rooms and up a set of stairs.
Hints of fresh paint and stacks of hardware and tools confirmed what she’d said in the message—under construction. He wasn’t leaving until she knew he could get deep inside, right up close. Put his foot on her neck.
At the top of the stairs, he found what he’d expected. Floral scent and personal feminine touches—her room. From the bed and the clothes hanging in the tiny closet, a man was obviously staying with her. Not to mention the two used towels he found on the rack in the bathroom. Well, her little lover boy could piss his pants too. Enzo pulled the drawers from the cabinet and upended them. From the contents, he selected a single tube, uncapped it, and swiveled up the contents.
On the mirror, he scrawled, “Your next—”
The sound of sirens came through the downstairs open door. He hesitated, hand poised above the reflective glass. It was possible the warning had nothing to do with him. But it was also possible he’d triggered an alarm. That late at night, in a tiny town, he couldn’t risk guessing. He raced down the stairs and out the way he came in. After he chucked the crushed lipstick in the bushes, he jogged across the street and slid into his waiting car. “Drive.”
TWELVE
Amy
I take a deep breath,my skin chilled with the loss of Tyler’s embrace. With my calves pressed against the hotel room bed, I can’t step away. Pulling off my clothes and accepting his direction would be so easy. His directions are so easy to follow in the club. My hesitation isn’t about Tyler. But can I do this? Should I?
If I bare myself to him and trust him with my body, will I regret it? Trust isn’t the issue between us. It’s not even an issue about him. It’s me. I can’t keep my feelings in check if I have sex. Not that I haven’t been intimate with other men. Three. Well, three if I strip right now. My college boyfriend was missionary vanilla and definitely not a biology major. And Enzo, unfortunately. Unwillingly. Yet Tyler is nothing like Enzo.
Tyler came to Alabaster. He brought his friends and respected my boundaries.
I blow out a breath and pull off my shirt. Tyler’s green eyes blaze. He closes the distance between us. His hands settle just above the waistband of my skirt. He leans forward, and I close my eyes, ready for his kiss.
A knock pounds on the hotel room door. A squeak escapes from me. Tyler turns. I scoop up my discarded top and dart to the bathroom.
“Alarm was triggered at Sunflower. We came as soon as the alert hit our phones,” Eliot’s voice carries through the bathroom door.
“My phone didn’t—shit. I missed it,” Tyler admits.
I finger comb my hair and go out to face them. “Is it possible it’s a false alarm?”
Eliot frowns. “It’s possible. Blake’s trying to pull up the video, but the Wi-Fi in the hotel is shit. We approved sending a patrol. But you make the call. Do we stay here, or do we head back now?”
I glance at the bed. A few more minutes and Tyler would have been balls deep inside me. Something I can’t take back after it happens. Something I might be ready for, but maybe this is a sign to wait. My body is arguing to ignore the alarm. The system is brand new. It’s probably a false positive. But it’s the perfect opportunity to put some space between Tyler and me.
