Before he can take another knife from the holster, I hit the assassin with an uppercut. He goes spiraling backwards. His legs start shuffling backwards as he tries to right his feet and pull out a knife. We tussle. I hold his arm away from his body. Then we fall, I can see Luxury only a few yards away. Only a few seconds have passed.
She looks back and pauses. Concern for me? Her brain reacts and she takes off.
With us interlocked arms, it's hard for me to get the upper hand. It's hard for the other assassin to get back to the beloved knives at his chest. With my weight, I bring him down. My hands grip his head and I bash it into the asphalt. One thud. Two. He's dead.
It's less than a minute when I catch up with Luxury.
~~~
– Now, we're caught up to speed?
Whitson, Lux and I are sitting ducks. A sharp shooter begins to target the open living room.
Lux is wedged between the couch and I. My eyes lock onto Luxury's, pull her in, and calm her troubled spirit. "Lux, right now I need you to be that cheeky, confident young woman I first met. No fear."
She nods with a renewed sense of courage. Whitson crawls toward the front door, which offers less of a visual.
I won't have Lux chance it. So I command, "Stay."
Lux doesn't move. Maybe she's processing the fact that the sniper is here for Doctor Whitson. She's too afraid to move.
"Whitson, where's your gun?" I ask.
"Right there, lodged in the side of my lazy boy," he replies, holding the cut at his ear. I crawl over. Reach my hand into the side of the lazy boy. A Smith and Wesson handgun goes into my suit jacket.
On my hands and knees, I move around the various African artifacts, and to the window. With my back leaned against it, I grab a mirror from my inside pocket. Slowly, I lift the mirror to the large window above. Right outside, I try to quickly catch the sniper's location before he catches the reflection of my hand mirror.
Bingo.
BLAP. Goes the sound of the Barrett M107.
Another .50 Caliber bursts through the window. With precision, the bullet would have taken my hand off, if I hadn't quickly put the mirror down. I crawl exactly two feet to the left, lift up my gun and shoot. Then I crawl another four feet back in the opposite direction to have a safe place to look up and make sure the target is down. Through my hand mirror, I see the hit man's body slumped over the side of the building.
Taking a deep sigh, I sit back.
Yes!
"Whitson, Lux," I begin in a precise tone, "We need to leave."
I've just murdered the sniper whose talents were comparable to my own. There will be more. After Whitson, or me who knows? But they will come. It's silent as I push open the door to the loft. I do a quick entryway check. Father and daughter are huddled together just inside, when I say, "Let's go."
We get onto the elevator
Soon as we make it outside, a cop points his Beretta at me.
"Freeze!" a guy shouts in a shaky voice. With the uniform on, clearly he is a rookie cop.
Lux holds to me tighter. Whitson holds a notepad in his hands even tighter.
"Luxury Whitson, Doc, Detective Caruso sent me to keep you safe," the cop says. The look in his eyes, says he's been following for a while, but too afraid to step up.
"The hell of a job you're doing!" Whitson snaps.
"Hey, I'm – "
My ears pique, "Shut the fuck up," I tell the cop before he can finish his retort.
Another gun goes off. Luxury's cries overpower the weapon, while Whitson clutches his chest and falls forward.
The cop's shaky gun comes up toward me again. But I shot the assassin who is standing behind the cop, and was getting ready to take him out too. Then I run to Lux as she falls to the floor, in this heart-wrenching sob for her father.
Fuck.
I'm not the hero after all.
Lux
We're surrounded by strong disinfectant hospital scents. Detective Caruso stands at my side as we look into the open blinds of my father's hospital room. Dad's notebook is in my hands, and I clutch it tightly. I had refused to turn it over to the police. Caruso has been very lenient with me. Especially since finding out that Victor is with the Feds, having to do with some sort of assassination ring. Besides the leather bound notebook is filled with codes and words that make not a lick of sense.
"So someone sent assassins to murder your father?" Caruso says.
I shrug my shoulders and sigh. I've heard of more money, more problems. But more brains?
Seriously.
Detective Caruso turns around to look at Victor, who's standing across the hallway in this stance that implies that I should have known he wasn't a doctor from the start. His rough hands, and there are a few delectable, highly distinguished scars on his muscular body. A doctor? Really, that served his purpose to find out who was targeting my father.
"Special Agent Gary," Caruso addresses Victor, "I would like to be a liaison with the feds if needed."
He shakes Victor Gary's hands. "That won't be necessary."
"Yeah, I'm sure it won't," Caruso sighs, "You guys are in a class all of your own. But I've known Miss Luxury for a while, so I'm vested in her safety. I'll go ahead and ask, do you have a potential suspect?"
"No," Victor replies looking him dead in the eye.
Caruso nods and addresses me again, "Luxury, you have my number if you need me."
I nod. Soon as he leaves, I run into Victor's arms, my head burrows to the muscles of his strong chest and I breathe easy. Daddy will be okay. The surgeon said that time would heal, especially after such a lengthy surgery. So all I need is this man right now. My rock.
Victor
As Luxury's tiny body forms against mine, I close my eyes and take in my feelings for her. When we first met, I was spellbound. How she explained crying and tears to me was quite baffling. It has become so much more than just the sex, then just owning her. So I have decided to tell her the truth.
Burt, my old pal, really was thinking on his toes when he had Paul quickly put in place my new identity as Special Agent Victor Gary. All for the sake of not having to provide my true title to Detective Caruso. My Queen would be outraged, my title snatched away for such actions.
I let her go, and introduce Luxury to the three ex-Navy Seals that will be on a 24 hour rotation, so that I can keep my promise to Madeline and be home by evening. PI Bobby George and his associates were murdered by the sniper right after Bobby called this evening to tell me Whitson didn't do much today.
"Oh, thank you, Agent … ?" Lux seeks out their names as I make introductions.
Big beefy heads and thick necks, Burt has already prepped them not to speak unless spoken to. Finally, I take Luxury into her father's room, so we can have a bit of privacy as I tell her the truth.
Lux
With my father all but two feet away, Victor tells me that he is not a doctor nor is he a Federal Agent. The sound of different medical gadgets throughout the room fogs my mind, as I murmur, "Then who are you?"
Tears burn my eye ducts, and like a broken dam. My stomach, my heart, my entire body is sinking as a woman's intuition takes over. Yet, I stand strong.
"I'm one of the assassins who came to murder your father," Victor begins. Then as if it's not enough that he has dashed my spirits, and snatched out my heart, Victor adds, in fact he was the very first assassin.
"So, why didn't you just kill my father?" I ask, with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. Now that my heart is in Victor's hands, he still won't stop hurting me. There's the lighter fluid, match, and my heart is up in flames as I stare at this man, that I'm so madly in love with.
I look at the clock. It's 9 a.m. I've officially known him for 29 days. Still less than a month. Still my heart can do no less than love him with every inch of me. I ask with a cold tone, "Victor, why didn't you just kill my father and go about your business?"
"Because I met you first," he sighs.
"If we hadn't met." I snap my fingers. "No more Dad, huh? Guess you running into me was just my luck, huh?" I rub away the tears with my forearm; this man does not deserve to see me like this. "So, who the fuck are you?"
"My name is Victor D'Ross," he says.
"Victor D'Ross," I hear myself saying. Victor had told me last night after sneaking into my bedroom around two a.m. I shrug, "How much was Jonah Whitson worth?"
"$500,000. That exact dollar amount was given to me when taking this assignment."
"Assignment?" My eyes look out toward the three stoic men. "Are they assassins, too? How does one's life become just an assignment? How does – "
"Luxury, please listen," Victor tries to take my hand. Even the touch makes my body react, heart traitor to all rationality. I yank my hand away, and fold my arms instead.
"No, there's nothing you can say. Allow me to thank you," I begin in a smirk, giving a quick curtsy. "Thank you so much for not murdering my father." I chuckle as if this is the dumbest statement I'll ever make. "I don't want to see you ever again, Victor D'Ross. I hate you." I spit those words out like fire, and wipe away the tears that keep falling.