Page 66 of Lovely Venom
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Raina
The crumpled address of Connor’s assassin sits in my hand as I look up at the moderately luxurious apartment building in Lower Manhattan. Even if I wanted to go straight back to Connor’s apartment and finish the job, I don’t have my weapons.
A doorman watches me from a slate step. His gaze skims over me with the kind of practiced scrutiny that says he’s seen some crazy shit. His stare lingers on my messy bun and tired eyes. I look more like I should be leaving here.
“Can I help you?” His voice is smooth, professional, but edged with wariness.
I hold up the piece of paper, letting it unfurl between my fingers. “I’m supposed to pick up something from this apartment.”
His gray bushy eyebrows dip toward a red, bulbous nose. A flicker of recognition crosses his face. I wonder what the hell he thinks this assassin does for a living. But without even asking my name, he moves aside to let me in.
No call to the resident? Odd.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping past him.
The blast of cold air from an overworked air conditioner presses against my skin. The strap of my empty holster and the absence of its weight under my zip-up jacket have me twitching.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says under his breath, low and snickering.
I pause, eyes narrowing. Hedoesknow what kind of man lives in apartment 15G.
“Do you know the guy’s name?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Ask him yourself.” The doorman grins.
I shake my head and walk to the elevator, keeping my gaze forward. Head held high, I hide the tension coiled in my shoulders and avoid making eye contact with anyone else in the lobby.
As the elevator shoots up fifteen floors, I breathe in deeply, calming my racing thoughts about this mob assassin. I oddly trust Connor doesn’t want me dead.
The elevator door glides open with a smoothding. A directional placard on the wall opposite the cars directs me to the right. But I’m brought up short seeing a woman sprawled on the floor in front of an apartment.
Not unconscious. Not bleeding. Just lying there.
Her head snaps up at the sound of my footsteps. A mess of rosy red curls bounces on her shoulders as she yanks something from under the door and scrambles to her feet.
I catch the shine of a thick black camera scope wire disappearing into her pocket. She was spying on an assassin.
“Hello?” I say to her.
“Are you here to hurt Rhys?” Her gaze is sharp and assessing, trying to determine if I’m a threat or just an inconvenience.
Startled by the anger, I stop short.
His name is Rhys.
“No, I’m picking up something for...” I can’t believe I’m saying this. “For Connor Quinlan.”
“Oh, his cousin!” Her attitude shifts on a dime. “Hi. I’m Fallon.”
A friendly stalker.Okay.
“Are you Rhys’s girlfriend?”
She smooths a hand over her curls, her smile turningdreamy. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Does he know he has a girlfriend? If he did, she wouldn’t be out here playing amateur spy.
