Hidden Love by MINK

2

Kent

She still works at the store. The woman who set me up. The woman posing as a bear-building employee. Why hasn’t she moved on to some other assignment? Professionals don’t stay in the same cover gigs for this long. She must be pulling some sort of a long game, waiting to make her move.

Working like a cyclone of energy, she moves around the store and collects all of the white stuffing that had somehow poured out of the machine against the right wall with a big heart above it. The other employee--unaware that she’s only steps away from some sort of covert operative--works on the machine.

I haven’t figured out who she’s working for just yet. Could be the Red Dragoons or any number of mercenary groups. Hell, she may even be with one of the government agencies for all I know. She’s probably after the same target--the elusive Graham Tucker, owner of the entire Fill-a-Friend empire. But one thing’s for certain. She’s a professional. She already moved against me, getting me out of the way for whatever she has planned. And worse, the Brotherhood let me sit in that tiny jail cell for two months. Two entire months of wasted time for what? To teach me a lesson?

I guess I didn’t learn it, because I’m right back where I started. No one took the contract for me while I was otherwise engaged. Probably because the bounty on it is so small, and I suppose some killers have reservations about taking out a toy store owner. I don’t. But first, I have a score to settle.

So, instead of doing recon to find the store owner, I walk by the shop and keep an eye on the dark-haired devil inside. At one point, it looks as if she has a halo of white fluff all around her head. But she’s no angel. Not that one. Not after the way she set me up to take the fall. And not with those curves.

In her cutesy little shop outfit, she prances around and shows off her thick thighs, round ass, perfect rack, and a heart-shaped face that’s had me obsessed from the moment I saw her. It took me only a day to snag the surveillance video, to see her in all her sexy glory setting me up.

She smiles at her coworker, and I think for only a moment that she can’t be some criminal mastermind. Then again, my two months in jail after a hasty guilty plea say otherwise. So when she bounces over to the front doors to open the shop for the day, I duck behind a wide oak on the quaint Main Street. I can feel her looking around, but she doesn’t see me. Not yet.

She will, though. Soon. And I’m going to get even. Good thing I already have her address.

Layla Trenholm, you’re about to meet your match.

* * *

I have to admit it--her cover is good. So good, in fact, that I can almost believe she’s a single woman just out of college with a stuffie obsession that verges on insane.

I edge into her third-floor apartment, passing a wall of stuffed animals, each one different and--upon closer inspection--handmade. In the bright afternoon light, the vivid colors are almost too much to take. Dragons, unicorns, animals I can’t even name. They form a creative collection. Where did she get them? eBay? She truly is a professional.

Moving farther inside, I find a neat kitchen, a small living room, bedroom, and bathroom. The lock on the front door was far too easy to pick. She’s too invested in this cover story, letting her guard down foolishly. But I don’t mind. I’ll capitalize on it and neutralize her.

Dropping to one knee, I look under her bed and grin when I find a special friend in a nice white case. Her vibrator is pink and cute. There’s no dust on the box. She doesn’t have a man. My grin grows wider. I don’t know why. I came here to kill her, not fuck her.

I place the box back where I found it, then look around the room. She has plenty of photos of friends and family. She’s in all of them. I stare at her dark brown eyes, the way her lips make a perfect pout, the swell of her luscious tits in every outfit she wears. It’s a shame she set me up. A real shame I have to hit back.

I’m about to walk back into the living room and wait for her when something brushes my leg. I jump back and draw my blade.

A tuxedo cat stares up at me, its white whiskers poking straight out to the sides.

I should’ve guessed she had a cat from the photos. This guy is in almost every one of them.

“Watch yourself,” I growl.

He stares up at me, his green eyes unblinking. Somehow, I know he’s a guy. He seems to be almost fist-bumping me in greeting. I don’t like it.

I shake off the feeling of surprise and head to the living room, then sit down on her small couch.

The cat follows, jumping up onto the sofa arm beside me, sitting and curling his tail around himself until it rests on top of his paws.

“What?” I cross my arms.

He just blinks.

“What do you want?”

Nothing.

“I’m not a cat person. You might as well fuck off and do cat things. I’m not going to pet you.”

Something in the way he looks at me says, ‘Yes, you will.’

“No.” I tighten my clenched arms.

He blinks lazily.

It’s a standoff. I turn away from him and look at the photos beside the small TV. Layla is smiling in them, her too-innocent face not fooling me in the least. I ignore the cat. It’s easy. I mean, I was interrogated for three hours that one time I got caught behind enemy lines during the Ukraine thing. Waterboarded, bamboo under the fingernails, the whole nine yards. I didn’t crack. This cat isn’t going to get to me.

I’m here to do my job. Taking out the competition is often the very first thing that needs to be done before I get to the proper hit.

I don’t tell the cat any of this because I’m a grown man, and I don’t talk to animals.

Shaking my head, I settle and ignore the tuxedoed feline.

Silence.

Staring.

Staring in silence.

Silently staring.

After several minutes, I shift. “This isn’t me losing.”

He doesn’t move.

“I didn’t lose by speaking. It’s not the quiet game.” I know Layla should be walking in the door any minute now. I shouldn’t be bothering with this stupid cat. “I’m not here for you.”

His tail twitches just an iota.

I fight it. I keep fighting it.

He keeps staring.

I sigh and lift my hand. With a tentative stroke, I pet his head.

His purr is instant, and he makes himself at home in my lap without a single word of invitation.

I scratch behind his ears. “Asshole.”

* * *

For being such a small apartment, her closet is a decent size. I crouch inside. My buddy stands outside the door, and I can see him through the crack. Killing his owner might be hard on him, but it has to be done. I won’t take him with me. After all, I’m not a cat person, as I told him over and over again during the past hour he spent in my lap.

A key hits the front door lock, and the cat skitters away toward the living room.

“Home sweet home,” she calls, and I hear the sound of keys dropping into the bowl on the small entry table. “Well, hello, Paisley. You seem … happy.” She laughs, and I close my eyes at the sound. It’s warm and innocent and oh-so-sweet.

It’s a put-on, I remind myself. She’s an operative.

Two months out of the game, and it’s all because of her. I tighten my grip on my knife.

“You are already purring.” She walks into the bedroom with the cat--Paisley--in her arms. “What’s turned your frown upside-down? You’re always so grumpy when I’ve been at work all day.”

She plops onto the bed and rolls to her side, petting and praising the cat. “It was a long day. So long. First, the fluff machine malfunctioned.” She giggles. “Honestly, I think I left it on. You know me. Always daydreaming or thinking about my next design. I’m pretty sure I forgot to turn it off last night. It went haywire. Fluff everywhere. Gia and I cleaned it up. Then Carmen came in and gave me a hard time. She’s been saying for three months straight that we have to keep the shop in tip-top shape for when Mr. Tucker comes to visit.”

He lets her rub his belly. Why didn’t he let me rub his belly? I let that go and refocus on her. If she knows when Tucker’s coming to town, she can lead me straight to him. I can take care of two birds with one stone. I slide my knife back into its sheath. For now.

“He’s supposed to be really mean, I think. Anyone who hires Carmen to run one of his stores has to be terrible.” She stands and stretches, then pulls off her cutesy apron. With another pull she’s stripped off her shirt, and when she reaches behind her back to unhook her bra, I don’t look away. I’ve never been a saint, and now is certainly not the time to start.

When she frees those large, beautiful breasts, I forget all about Tucker, the cat, my stint in jail. All I can see is her. And then she strips her pants off. My mouth waters as I take in the cute lacy panties she’s wearing. When she turns and gives me the perfect view of her round ass, I force myself to take a breath, to close my eyes, to do anything but look at her. But she’s still talking to Paisley, her voice a beautiful melody.

“Let’s stay in tonight.” She laughs. “Who am I kidding? We stay in every night.” She starts humming, a few words coming out here and there. Beautiful.

When I open my eyes, she’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and walking toward the closet.

Shit! I press myself back against the wall and reach to slide some clothes in front of me right when the light flips on and the door opens.

“Oh!” she cries.

I should reach for my knife. I don’t. I freeze.

“Paisley!” She scolds the cat as he winds around her feet. “I trip plenty without your help.” She bends over to pet him, so close to me that I catch the scent of her lotion, vanilla and sugar. “Well, you’re probably right. Let’s go no-pants for the night.”

She flips the light back off and closes the door.

I take a breath.

I hesitated. Me. I never hesitate. That’s what makes me good at what I do. But this time? This woman? She’s done something to me. Maybe those two months in a jail cell have dulled my senses or something. That has to be it. Not the cat and definitely not the woman with the dark hair and soulful eyes with a voice like silk.

The plan is still on. Just maybe not right this second. I need to get more intel on when Mr. Tucker will be in town. If Layla can lead me to him, she’s worth more to me alive.

I’ll take care of all the loose ends later. For now, I’ll just keep my eye on her. Watch her closely. Very closely.