The rain splattersfrom the heavy clouds as I watch her, Maeve Bianchi. Long dark hair hangs down her back, reaching her tailbone. She’s dressed in black again. Part of the uniform, I suppose. I ponder this for a moment before I edge closer. Sweet perfume wafts from her, and it makes my mouth water. I think about what it would take to grab her right now and steal her away. I could take her to the place I’ve lived all my life. She’d fit in perfectly.
I’m close.
Almost there.
But then she stops and glances over her shoulder, forcing me to slip back into the shadows. It’s been a few months since I started following her. It started after our first kiss. I'd come here to find her, and I definitely did. She'd been leaving the convent grounds, jogging toward the park, and I couldn’t stop my feet from tracing her steps.
I wonder why she’s allowed off the grounds, how she’s able to do as she wishes when the other girls are locked up tight.
Since I first laid my eyes on her, I've had this innate reaction to her. As if she has tethered me to her and is tugging me along. Each time I get near, I lose my nerve. I’ve never been afraid of a woman before, but there’s something about her. Something dark that resides inside her. It’s etched in the ink that adorns her ribs. A large tree of life, but with a macabre twist. There are skeletons and ghouls under the tree, with a rosary slung around the branches.
She moves faster down the road, and I wonder if she spotted me. I doubt she’d still be walking; she’d certainly be running if she had. I shouldn’t do this, but I’m in too deep now. My phone vibrates in my pocket, thankfully I’ve had it on silent since I perched myself across the road from the convent.
I don’t pull it out now. I’m too close to her to even consider taking a fucking call. It stops and restarts. Frustration burns through every fiber of my being. I want to keep going. I need to. But I know if I don’t answer this call there’ll be hell to pay.
I pull out my cell. Swiping my thumb along the screen, the facial recognition unlocks the device and I press the phone to my ear.
“What?”
“Well, hello to you too,” Fletcher’s voice comes through the line. My partner is an asshole. I call him a partner, but he’s more like a fuckin’ lackey at this point. Working for the big man upstairs isn’t easy, and I know he’s wanting to get out into the field with me.
“You’ve just fucked up my mark,” I bite out in evident frustration at the interruption, earning me a chuckle in response. Asshole.
“That pretty piece of ass you’ve been jerking off to? You know she’s married to the cross, right?” Another guffaw from him makes my hackles rise. I’ve told him she’s special. There’s something about her, and I need her to join us.
“Fuck off, man. What do you want?” I grit out, tugging my packet of smokes from the inner pocket of my leather jacket. Popping one between my lips, I flick the lighter and inhale a lungful of calming smoke.
“I got a job for you, not too far from where you are right now,” he informs me. “Asshole dealing on Heaven’s turf.”
Fuck.
“Yeah, okay. Send me the deets and I’ll head out.” I hang up before he can ask anything more about the subject of my obsession. Turning, I head back to my bike and hop on, starting the engine and pulling out of the lot. I’ll be back tomorrow. She’ll be there once again, and I’ll be jerking my cock thinking about how tight her perfect cunt must be.
The information from Fletcher comes when I stop for gas about two miles down the road. I punch the address into my GPS, and I make my way toward the asshole who thinks he’s God. He isn’t. I know God, met the fucker when he hired me, and now I’m one of his best angels.
When I pull up to the house in question, I note one car in the drive and a guy sitting on the porch.Security?I think not. It doesn’t take me long to pull out my 9mm and stalk up to the little shit who may just piss himself when his gaze locks on mine.
“Who are you? Are you here to—”
I don’t wait. The bullet is between his eyes before he has time to utter another word. Stepping over his body, I lift a black boot and kick the door from its hinges. A squeal of surprise comes from inside, and I notice a pretty little blonde racing from the kitchen into the living room.
I turn to where she was headed and find the man I need. He’s high, fucked out of his skull. “Hey man,” he grins, holding up a joint, pulling in deep before exhaling a cloud of sickly smoke.
One thing I don’t do—drugs.
Give me a good Scotch or a beer any day, but this is the shit that puts you in the ground fast. I don’t respond. Instead, I lift the glass coffee table, turning it on its side, sending all his paraphernalia flying through the air.
“What the fuck, man?” he bites out, suddenly more awake than he had been. He’s on his feet, but I’m taller. I’m more fucking dangerous than some prick knocked off his head on weed.
With my cigarette perched between my lips, I smile, lift the gun, point it right at his crotch, and utter, “God sends his regards,” before I pull the trigger.
The asshole drops to his knees, his hands cupping what’s left of his crown jewels. The blonde pops up from behind the sofa with a screech that could wake the fuckin’ dead. I should leave her be, but she’s seen my face. I should’ve covered up. Fuck it. I point the barrel at her and pull the trigger. No use leaving witnesses. They only cause shit later on.
Another glance at my mark, and I take in the slump of his shoulders. Just to make sure I’ve done my job, I put another burning hot piece of metal in his head. His crumpled form is evidence enough.
Pulling my cell out, I tap the camera and hit the button. Once the photo is sent to Fletch, I head out of the house and down to my bike. I thought there’d be people in the street after hearing the gunshot, but I guess they’re all hiding indoors.
I would too.