Page 25 of Targeted By Vengeance

THE ASSASSIN

Only Simone could make me second guess myself. One look at her in the blue cropped halter top and matching maxi skirt, and I regretted putting her on that goddamn plane with us. There was no doubt in my mind she would attract eyes at the party. Shit, if we weren’t careful, I’d bet she’d catch our target's eye.

I tried to tell myself if she had more experience, I may not have cared about switching gears and using her as the diversion if needed. But, I knew the simple thought of that grimy motherfucker’s hands on her would earn him a slow, excruciating death. One we didn’t have time for.

In cases like this, when we had to kill behind closed doors with the ignorant public on the other side, we had to make the execution as quick as possible. A gunshot through the skull or a slit throat usually did the trick.

Because I was still doubting Simone’s ability to kill in cold blood, I didn’t want to leave her with that responsibility yet. Her only purpose today was to observe and learn.

I stopped our van a few blocks up from the club where the party was being held. Even from a distance, the music still boomed through the air. Pedestrians draped in their best attire strolled down the sidewalk, leaving no question about where they were headed off to.

As I climbed out of the driver’s seat, I watched Miles hand out tiny earbuds to the women. He’d enhanced our communication software to stretch farther distances and matched the color of the earbuds to our respective skin tones to blend into our ears.

I appreciated his initiative to make our method of communication more discreet. While most of our targets in the past had been more oblivious to our tactics, we couldn’t bank on the ones ahead of us to be the same. Especially if those would eventually include the ones who tried to kill Simone.

I collected mine and hopped out of the van.

Simone followed after me, taking the hand I offered her.

Maria lingered back to kiss Miles goodbye as he settled in the rolling chair she usually occupied in front of the mass of computers. “Be careful,” he murmured against her lips.

“Always,” she whispered back. She tried to hide her smile as she climbed down from the van and closed the door behind her.

“Y’all corny as shit,” I teased.

I know you’re not talking, she signed back, raising a brow at my hand that was still holding Simone’s.

I sucked my teeth, but didn’t release Simone’s hand. I actually held it tighter.

Simone giggled at our brief exchange. “You two bicker like siblings,” she commented.

And you two fight like an old married couple.

I almost choked on the laugh trying to climb up my throat. “Alright, chill,” I told Maria.

She raised a brow. Did I lie?

I shook my head at her.

Beside me, Simone’s brows pinched. She’s been using some resources Maria had given her to help learn sign language, so the two of them could communicate better.

This past week, in our downtime, I’ve seen the two of them sitting on the couch, Maria practicing signs and Simone trying to read them. From the glimpses I’ve seen, she got the gist of what Maria was talking about, but sometimes missed the smaller words that filled in all the blanks.

Judging from the confusion of her face, she must not have fully comprehended Maria’s comment.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told Simone, squeezing her hand.

The jokes needed to end, anyway. We were starting to blend into the crowd milling towards Jules’ estate.

I offered my other arm to Maria, and she wrapped her fingers around my bicep. Her eyes scanned over the faces in the crowd, assessing the environment we were walking into.

Most of the patrons were already stumbling, intoxicated from pregaming before they arrived. They moved in packs, leaning onto each other to remain upright.

An abundance of guards stood at the various entrances of the facility. They nodded as each group flashed their “invitation,” a purple square with golden writing on it, and permitted them entrance.

One of the knuckleheads in front us tried to scurry past without showing theirs. A guard immediately grabbed the man’s arms, tugged him out from the crowd, and shoved him so hard towards the sidewalk that he fell backwards and hit the concrete.

Simone’s hand loosened around mine, and I tightened my grip to make sure she didn’t get any bright ideas. The man was fine; she didn’t need to be a good Samaritan and check on him.