Page 37 of Jager's Prey
I didn’t want that, but I had to let her go.
Shaking my head, I picked up the weapon that now felt heavier than it did before. I didn’t bother checking it—Hermes had loaded it earlier.
As we worked to prepare, she wasn’t the same woman who melted into my arms, who blushed when I spread her open and licked her in places I was sure no other man had.
The woman in front of me in those moments was angry and her body had gone from goddess to war lord. She checked the guns, handling them like a pro before shoving one in the holster she had strapped around her very shapely thigh.
She must have felt me staring, for she glanced in my direction.
I was too far gone.
I wasn’t even a little bit ashamed for the way I watched her.
But instead of smiling like she would, or blushing, she merely rolled up the extra bullets, shoved the lot of them into a black bag and used her foot to push it under the table before leaving the room.
It had taken us a while to make it to the house. The neighbourhood seemed wealthy—almost like a gated community without the gates. All the homes looked the same—massive, white picket fencing and immaculate lawns.
It wasn’t the kind of place you would think a mafia boss would own, or even wanted to live. But as I thought about it, it was the perfect cover.
The building was dark except for one light on the first floor. I stood between Hermes and Jager, knowing they were thinking the same thing I was—someone was home.
“We should split up.” I suggested.
“I don’t like that idea.” Jager replied.
“We can cover more ground that way.” I looked over at Hermes who nodded.
Jager was reluctant but we each took off in different directions. My leg was beginning to nag at me, and I was pretty sure it was going to be hell taking off the piece, but I didn’t really have a choice. Even though I usually worked all day, most of it was spent sitting, which meant no extra weight on the leg.
Pushing the pain to the back of my mind, I pressed my back to the building and peered around the side. There wasn’t any lighting there but a glow from the back of the house told me there was light there.
Glancing up, I checked once more for cameras and when I didn’t find any, I dipped around into the darkness.
My heart hammered inside my chest so hard, I winced a couple of times. I paused at one point to hold my breath to give my heart a little break before breathing again. It had been a while since I’d been on a mission—I didn’t like it then and as I inched further into the dark, I realized, I still didn’t like it.
An uneasy feeling settled in the center of my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the uncertainty ahead or if it was the idea that I could not have the woman I wanted. I paused to clear my mind.
This was a lot.
Once I managed to talk myself up to go through with this, I pushed through, wandering round the house. I was careful to make sure my prosthetic leg always landed on somewhere level. Hitting loose dirt or an uneven patch would send me toppling over and the last thing I needed was to alert the people inside of our presence.
After a while, there was no avoiding the uneven surfaces. That slowed me down terrible.
Before rounding the corner of the house, the smell of a cigarette caught my attention, forcing me to stop. Slowly, I peeked around the side in time to see a man pacing in the other direction. He was armed, the bulge at his side was unmistakable.
When he turned to pace back toward me, I drew my body back into the shadows. I couldn’t wait until he finished that cigarette. That would force us to remain in this predicament longer than we needed to and I wasn’t on board with that.
Timing it carefully, I caught him from behind and around the throat. It may have been a while since I took down some bad guys but fighting for me was like riding a bike. The anger I felt about the situation with Jager bubbled to the surface, eating away my patience and my ability to give a damn.
I snapped his neck, shoved his body under the house and continued on my way until I was inside the back door and looking around.
It seemed I’d entered in through the kitchen. It was immaculate, smelled like fresh paint. I didn’t think anyone had used it yet.
“What a waste.” I muttered to myself.
I didn’t have to go in very far to know this home was built for luxury, for the wealthy. Everything from the stainless-steel appliances, the fridge that looked as if it could hold enough food for a family of four for months, and the state-of-the-art counter grill in one corner.
No expense was spared on the one room.
