Chapter 1
The illumination from the dim street lights provided little guidance, but perfect cover for the man slipping through the darkness. Staying close to the shadows next to the brick buildings, he carried his heavy load, watching carefully around for signs of life in the alley he dodged into. He knew his destination. He’d been watching her for weeks, knowing that at some point the time would be right. It hadn’t been hard – watching her. She was beautiful, but her skills were what he needed. Yeah, keep telling yourself that. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous. His mind drifted to watching her in the neighborhood. Nice. Sweet. Wholesome. Clean. Not for you, man. Not where you’ve gone and what you’ve seen. Fuck! Rubbing his hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble of his unshaven face, he locked those thoughts down. It’s a job. Just do your fuckin’ job. Looking down at the bundle in his arms, he wondered how long he would have to wait before making his next move. I’ve got to get her when she’s alone. Knowing her routine, it wouldn’t be hard to do that. Jesus, a woman alone, keeping the same routine. In another world, he would have protected her. Made sure she was safe. Now, she was just a mark. A mark with skills he needed. Shifting his weight so that he was more comfortable, he crouched down, waiting. He’d done a lot of that in the past two years. Just waiting.
* * *
(Earlier in the Day)
The radio alarm belted out the latest country music at six-thirty a.m. jerking Annie Donavan awake. Slapping her hand on the snooze button she rolled over, keeping her eyes tightly shut. Just ten more minutes. A soft pad touched her face; first her forehead, then her closed eyelid. Then a wet nose sniffed her ear. Opening her eyes, she grumbled, “Go away, Boo,” while reaching out her hand to stroke the large tabby cat’s fur. Letting her hand fall back to the bed, she attempted to snooze once again. In what seemed just seconds the alarm was playing again, only this time when she opened her eyes she was presented with an up close view of a cat butt. Great. Just what I want to see first thing in the morning.
Pushing the cat to the side, she turned off the radio while swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Boo quickly came back, rubbing his whole body against hers. Two more cats wandered in the bedroom, circling her legs while meowing in unison.
“I know. I know guys,” she acknowledged, heading into the kitchen to feed her menagerie. Putting the coffee on to brew, she walked back to the tiny bathroom. Staring critically into the mirror at her sleepy image, she shook her head. Her long, coppery hair was untamed and curling around her face. Pulling the mane into a messy bun, she quickly washed her face and applied simple makeup.
Changing out of her pink drawstring pajama bottoms and matching pink camisole, she stood at her minuscule closet pretending to wonder what to wear. Hmmm, should I wear the pencil skirt and sex-kitten heels? How about the low-cut blouse and tight pants. Or maybe a kick-ass pair of boots. Yeah. Right. Her closet held none of those items and she smirked as she dressed in clean scrubs, pulling her lab coat off of the hanger. Her cats had finished their breakfast and were lying on the living area rug cleaning their faces by the time she walked back into her kitchen.
Pouring milk into her bowl of cereal, she walked into the living area, sitting on the sofa to eat. Her thoughts were already on her day, as they were each morning. First thing, surgery. Two spays, one neuter, one dental. Jesus, I hope Mrs. Rosini remembers to not feed her dog before bringing him in. After surgery, seven known appointments, not including walk-ins.
Finishing her cereal, she allowed her eyes to roam around her small apartment as the morning’s sunlight began to filter through the blinds. All three cats moved over to the old, dark green rug trying to find a place in the barely-there sunspot. The rug covered the wooden floors which were not in bad shape, but worn from many years of tenants. The tan sofa Annie sat on was as worn as the floors, but it was clean, and since it came with the apartment she couldn’t quibble about a free couch. Two chairs faced her, both bought on Craig’s List, along with the coffee table in between.
The living area was just that. One room. A small table and two chairs sat near the kitchen, but since it was covered with her laptop and papers, it hardly qualified as a dining area. The tiny kitchen held serviceable, although outdated appliances, as well as a few cabinets.
She had painted the walls in a soft cream color, desperate to make the apartment appear bigger than it really was. Family pictures adorned the walls, as well as some throw pillows, gave the room splashes of color. Well, it’s mine and it’s home, she thought as she pushed herself off of the sofa.