"Target in sight," I whispered, pressing a finger to the mic in my ear as I spotted the man in blue suit at the bar.
"Mia, bodyguards on your ten and one," a loud chewing noise echoed through the mic. "Slip in the poison and get out of there."
"Those things are bad for you, Tara," I muttered, eyeing the two bodyguards on my left. They looked preoccupied as they drank loudly with girls in their arms. They wouldn't be a problem.
Tara groaned. "I know but I can't stop," the Pop Rocks chewing got louder.
The guard on my right looked businesslike as he carefully kept an eye on my target. He was gonna be a problem.
"Tara?" five years of blood, bodies and missions Tara remained the brains, and I the muscle. Always had my back, always would.
"Got it," the clacking of keyboards filled my ear. "George Adams, former military, got dishonorably discharged three years ago. Highly experienced in hand-to-hand combat, weapons, judo, jiujitsu," she paused.
"Weird. Guy was Alan Walker's best bodyguard up until a month ago," she said.
My eyebrows furrowed. "Why did Alan make his bodyguard come work for his son?"
"Maybe he knows his life is in danger," Tara said.
"No, this mission is highly confidential, there is no way Alan could have seen this coming," I shook my head.
"Hey, pretty lady," a drunk guy came up to me with a drink in his hand as he gave me a once-over. "Wanna dance?"
"No," I moved to walk away but he blocked my path.
'Don't draw attention to yourself," Tara warned. "There's a blind spot on your right."
I smiled and stared at him. "You know what, why not?" I grabbed his hand and led him to the blind spot.
"So, are we doing this or-," I jabbed his Adam's apple making him gasp for air. I held his face and connected it with my knee, knocking him out cold.
I walked out and stared at the CCTV. "You didn't kill him, did you?" there was a hinge of concern in her voice.
"Relax," I said and adjusted my coat.
"Uh oh, looks like he's about to leave," Tara said, and I stared at the man in the blue suit.
I brushed past the drunk people quickly and paused when I got to the bar. I grabbed a seat beside him and pulled off my coat. My black shimmery dress sparkled in the low lights in the bar. I could feel his stare and I smirked. I'd grabbed his attention. My dress hitched up my thigh as I crossed my legs, and my fingers slightly brushed my exposed neck. The low-cut neckline dipped , exposing my breasts and I felt his eyes linger—more than it should have.
"Damn, you look hot!" Tara squeaked through the comm.
I glanced at the bartender. "What's good?"
"She'll have what I'm having."
I met his gaze, and even though I had seen his picture during the briefing, it did no justice to his beauty.
His deep blue eyes held mine, and they reminded me of the sea. His suit matched with his eyes, and it felt like I was drowning in the bottom of an endless ocean. His black hair was tussled like he had run his fingers through it several times.
"If that's okay," he added.
"I'll have what he's having," I told the bartender, my gaze on him.
His finger twirled gently caressed the rim of his whisky glass, and I followed the movement. The poison was in my hairpin, a squeeze in his drink was all I needed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George slightly reach for a gun in the back of his suit as he stared at us, well... me, like he knew what I planned to do. Damon shook his head subtly and he took a step back.
"Damon Walker," he extended his hand.
Damon Walker, 29 years old, had a sick mother, no siblings, and was the secret son of Alan River, the Mafia boss who ruled over the West. My target.
"Ivy Wells," my soft hand grazed his palm.
"Like the poison," he said, and I chuckled.
I leaned closer to him. "You've got no idea."
I pulled away from him with a smile. The bartender brought my drink and placed it gently in front of me.
"Whiskey on the rocks," he smiled flirtatiously.
I glanced at the tissue he'd placed below the drink and saw something scribbled on there. His number. He was my type to a tee; brown eyes, blond hair, and a great smile and if it had been any other night, I would be fucking his brains out in the back of the building. But I had a far more important thing to do--- killing the man seated beside me. So, I grabbed the tissue and tore it up.
"You could have given it to me if you weren't interested," Tara whined.
Damon raised an eyebrow. "Oof, right in front of him."
"I don't like being chased," I met his eyes and trailed down his lips. "I prefer doing the chasing."
His lips curled in a smile. "I think a woman in charge is hot."
I stared at his unwatched drink, I could feel George's gaze burning a hole in my temple. There was no way I could poison his drink without George noticing. So, I glanced at the CCTV and squeezed my thumb and forefinger together twice, signaling to Tara to create a distraction.
"Okay," Tara said.
I pulled down my hair and let it flow down my shoulders, holding the pin in my left hand. I glanced at George; he seemed busy with his phone in his ear. I pulled Damon's tie with my other hand and drew him closer to me. His lips were warm and inviting, and when I bit his lower lip softly, he opened his mouth, as if inviting me in. I gladly accepted the invitation as my tongue clashed with his. He moaned softly in my mouth and the soft hum sent a chill down my spine. He was good with his tongue and knew when to apply enough pressure.
His hands grabbed my hair and pulled as he took charge. He bit my lip softly and I moaned in pleasure. The kiss almost made me forget my mission, as he pulled me closer. I cracked an eye open. The drink was within reach. I glanced around to make sure no one was looking and squeezed the hairpin. A drop, that was it. I retracted my hand quickly just as George dropped the call. His expression shifted between surprise and confusion as he stared at us. I smiled into the kiss and closed my eyes.
I pulled away from him, gasping for breath. My lips were swollen and a little bit tender. His fingers ran through his hair slowly as he gathered his thoughts.
"I thought women in charge were hot," I teased. He took over the kiss so quickly, leaving me gasping for air.
He gulped and took in short breaths. "Sorry, got caught up in the moment."
"That tops the best ten kisses I have ever seen," Tara chimed.
I searched his eyes flirtatiously. "To the moment," I raised my glass.
He smiled and raised his glass. "To the moment."
I took a sip and watched him silently. The glass paused on his lips, and he sighed.
I furrowed my eyebrows. "What's wrong?"
"Sorry, it's just, I... I don't think I can do this," he said.
"Do what?"
He gestured at the both of us. "This. Look, you're so beautiful, and I haven't had this much fun in a while."
I watched his glass; I was starting to get a little impatient.
"But I didn't come out tonight to have fun. I just wanted to forget my sorrows by drinking."
I raised my glass. "Cheers to that."
He stared at me blankly. "It's just, you look breathtaking, and fuck, you smell nice."
I knew I smelled nice, and I knew I looked completely gorgeous. The look, the scent, it was all an illusion. With every target, I became their perfect woman. Favorite color. Favorite scent. Favorite fantasy. Black was Damon's favorite color, I knew he liked a woman in a short dress, and an up-do hairstyle leaving the neck exposed; it was his favorite part of the body. I wore his favorite perfume that reminded him of his mother; a bit weird but it was the only thing that could have caught his attention.
After his mother, Lily Walker was diagnosed with cancer a few months back, Damon had dedicated his days to spending time with her, avoiding any form of relationship even one-night stands. A man like that would be very difficult to seduce without some form of advantage. His schedule was filled with work, the hospital, and on weekends, bars.
"But I can't," his face fell, and he looked like it took every willpower he had to turn me down, like if he said yes, there'd be no turning back.
I reached for his hand and trailed a finger on invisible lines while maintaining eye contact. "Not even one night?"
The last time I was turned down was in first grade when Ian Oliver had refused to kiss me because my breath was horrible. I had never been turned down by any man, target or not so my ego was a bit bruised. I knew it wasn't going to end with me sleeping with him since he wasn't going to leave the bar alive but all I wanted from him was to entertain the idea. I could see the thoughts churning behind his eyes as he stared at me. He breathed in deeply and pulled my hand away from his. My ego took another hit.
"I'm sorry."
I forced myself to smile. "Too bad. One last drink?"
He nodded tightly and reached for his glass. At that moment, a drunk girl took the glass from him and threw it at her boyfriend.
"Asshole," she fumed, dropped the glass, and walked out, my open jaw following her.
"What the hell just happened?" Tara's voice cut through the mic.
"Fuck!" I muttered through gritted teeth.
Damon's phone rang and he picked it up. His eyebrows furrowed in worry as he answered.
"I'll be right there," he hung up and turned to me. "I have to go."
With that, he turned and walked out, George and the other two bodyguards following him closely. I glanced at the CCTV.
"Toby's calling us in," Tara said, and I gulped down my drink and grabbed my coat.
"Fuck me."
Not only was I rejected, but I also failed to kill my target. It was not a good night.