Page 1 of Crushed
CHAPTER 1
Scarlett
The door to the brick building opened; an older woman with a sleek blond haircut beamed at us with her perfect teeth. Starting a new assignment always made me nervous, but we weren’t here to meet the target—we were here to meet someone who might know him.
“It’s been ages,” the woman said, her voice raspy. She motioned inside. “Come in. Come in.”
“Good to see you, Dahlia,” Lizzy said, patting her on the back. I followed behind Lizzy’s tall frame. Dahlia’s on-site office at the Dahlia District wasn’t a traditional office. An office would have a desk and some monitors, a filing cabinet, maybe even a break room, but this ‘office’ opened into a large living room with a modern kitchen, the accent lights dangling above the island, and two rooms, one of which was closed, but the other opened to a master bedroom with a golden headboard. Dahlia lived here, on-site too, like the rest of the servers.
“You must be Scarlett,” Dahlia said. I shook her hand, and she held my palm in hers, studying me. “Lizzy has told me so much about you.”
“Only the good parts, I hope,” I said. I winked at Dahlia; it was a habit now, even if she wasn’t a target.
“Of course,” she said.
“Are you going to give us a tour?” Lizzy asked. “I haven’t been here since you first—”
“Oh, why bother with a tour?” Dahlia said. “You know the place.”
She ushered us to the skinny couch in the living room, then brought us a tray with delicate teacups and mini cucumber sandwiches from the kitchen.
Lizzy leaned back into the couch, her strong shoulders broader than ever. I swear, with each year, her posture gotbetter, as if that’s how aging worked. A long, gray ponytail shimmered down her back.
Lizzy had worked here, at the elite entertainment club, for a while when she was in her forties. Though Dahlia hadn’t originally allowed women to work as servers past their twenty-ninth year, she had made an exception for Lizzy, as Lizzy was tasked with eliminating a target who was a club member at the Dahlia District. The target had been tormenting the servers, so Dahlia didn’t mind bending the rules for someone who was as talented at assassination as she was at entertaining high-end clients. During that time, Dahlia and Lizzy had become good friends, but as Lizzy’s work called her elsewhere, they had lost contact.
Lizzy was in her seventies now and had been playing guardian to me for the last decade or so. I was twenty-one and hadn’t technically been her ward for a few years, but we still lived and worked together. I handled the alluring side of the assignments, navigating targets into our traps, and Lizzy did the actual elimination. We had a good system.
We were here to see if Dahlia would make that exception again. Except it would be me serving. At least this time, I was within the age range.
“Is that still your office?” Lizzy asked, pointing at the closed doors. “Can we see the monitors for the club?”
“I’m afraid not.” She sneered at the closed door. “If you need it for your security, then of course, but right now, I’d personally rathernotgo in there myself.”
I wrinkled my brows. Why was she so avoidant of that room?
“You have another company surveilling the place, then?” I asked.
“Always,” she said. She lifted her chin. “I’m going to sell this place soon. There’s no point in doingallof the work myself.”
“Selling?” Lizzy asked. “Really?”
“The place doesn’t sit well with me anymore. It’s time I retire.” She tilted her head. “You ought to retire soon too, right, Lizzy?”
Lizzy shrugged. “When the work stops coming, I suppose. But that’s why we’re here.” She pulled out her tablet and flipped to the picture of our next target, facing the picture towards Dahlia.
Light brown hair in short, soft curls on his head, his eyes a bright green, dressed in a dark suit. A strong jaw and nose. Big shoulders and arms, a tight frame, even buried underneath the suit. You could tell he worked out. According to our records, he was about six feet two.
These were the things I had to remind myself to make seducing a target that much more tolerable. To pretend that his past decisions didn’t make him disgusting. Besides, he would be eliminated soon anyway.
“Cormac Stone, the pharmaceutical mogul,” Lizzy said. “We have sources that say that he attends the Dahlia District regularly.”
Dahlia studied the tablet, eyeing it over her crossed arms, not bothering to pick it up herself. “Yes, Mr. Stone attends my establishment.”
“And he has for many years?”
She jerked her head. “I’ll have to ask where your sources are getting their information. But yes. I recognize him. He frequents my club.”
“Does he have any regular servers?”
