The Games We Play

29. Twenty-Eight - X

Twenty-Eight - X

Our call ends, and I’m left gripping my softening dick with cum spread up my stomach and chest.

What the fuck did I just experience ? Besides, the best fucking thing ever …

What I wouldn’t give to have her overpowering me and taking everything she needed from me. My cock stirs, and I groan.

Damn this woman.

I can’t fight the smile that turns up my lips as I replay every moment of the call. My hand wasn’t enough. I want to sink deep into her cunt and make her pay for putting me through this misery.

My finger hovers over the callback button, but I sigh and toss it to my feet at the bottom of the lounge chair. I run a cold shower, hoping to wash her off my skin and out of my mind. But I know I won’t work. I’ll live with her running through my veins for the rest of my life and torture myself like I deserve for what I’ve done…what I’m going to do.

After I dry my hair and pull on my gray sweatpants, I pour more whiskey to combat this ill feeling churning in my stomach. I’m not one to get attached. Everyone and everything in my life revolves around a job. The same job that’s taken more than it’s given me.

My phone rings again, and I smirk at the image of Puppet sprawled out on her bed, staring up at me in the camera I hid on her ceiling fan, fucking herself after the night she had. I frown when it’s a private number.

“Hello?”

“Lima. Intel states Darius is in the area at the Gondalier Hotel.” November catches me off guard, still naked and semi-hard. I straighten, sitting my drink on the glass table beside the decanter.

“Understood. I can be there in…” I pause, glancing at the watch on the counter. “One hour.”

I quickly got sober with the reality of the situation.

“Scott was spotted at the casino downstairs, then drove off in a blacked-out SUV with license plate number RTF 987.”

It's the same SUV that’s been tailing me . “I’ll take care of it, ma’am.”

“You assured me Darius was dead, claimed you handled it yourself, yet here we are. So, tell me, how will you ensure it gets handled this time?”

I drop my chin to my chest and shove my free hand in my pocket.

The sea breeze blows mists of ocean spray across my face and wets my cheek on the cliff’s edge. Darius stands in front of me with his back to me, and I raise my gun, prepared to be a coward who shoots him in the back.

“What is this?” Darius asks without turning around. We’re trained to know when death is on our heels. To taste the change in the air around us. To know when we’re being stabbed in the back before it happens. I level my pistol.

“It’s over. Your time is up. This is— ”

“Just orders,” he scoffs and wets his lips. “We’re friends, Lance. You and me against the world. You know my family, and I know yours. But one word from her, and you’re just going to forget all that.”

I cock the hammer and ready myself to do the one thing I never thought I’d be capable of doing.

“If it’s not you, it’s me. This is the life we’re in.”

He shakes his head and steps back. “No. Not me. I’m out. And she’ll never find me.”

“And what about your family?”

His eyes narrow on me, and he wears a cynical smirk. “Seems I’d be leaving them either way. Alive or dead, so what does it matter?”

I wet my lips and scoff. “I’ll give your family my regards.”

His mouth curves into a snarl, and I prepare for him to charge. Only he doesn’t. Darius turns and charges for the cliff’s edge. I fire my gun once and race after him as he leaps into the unforgiving sea. Shielding my eyes from the water, I watch as the waves slap against the cliff, and he’s gone.

“Nobody would have survived that fall,” I state, answering her original question.

“Well, someone did,” she remarks, and my shoulders tense. “He’s your target, Lima. The job will be sent to other agents. If you fail again, it’ll be your life in his place.”

She hangs up, and my phone chimes, signifying a message. It’s a location; I can only assume it was Darius's last known place. A pang of sadness stabs me in the chest.

Puppet.

But this is my harsh reality. That is why I’m here, hundreds of miles away from her in the first place. Distance to sever the tether I created without intending to. I never planned for my obsession to become more. And the fleeting thought that she is the person I want to call and confide in proves how dangerous she has become for me.

It’s about time that I use her to her full ability and be done with this whole thing.

***

I’m parked in the shadows of a dark alley, my thumb tapping against the steering wheel as I check the clock for the fifteenth time.

My nerves are shot. I never was good at stakeouts. That’s one part of this job I never had to do, but since we’re dark because of dumbass Scott, I’m back to the basics of having to hunt people down myself.

He checked into the Gondalier Hotel two days ago.

When I staked out his room earlier, it was empty, so now I’m waiting for him to make his appearance, take him out, then set the rest of my plan into motion to snuff out Darius. There hasn’t been any sign of him at the hotel yet. My instincts tell me he isn’t here, but talking to Scott is the only way to confirm.

Darius had built himself a fortress of cyber cave systems and tunnels that anyone else would get lost in if they tried to find him. I’m simply going to set a fire at every exit but one and wait while the smoke does the work.

I check my recent burner and scroll through Puppet’s footage. She hasn’t made it back from her professor’s yet, and I fight the urge to call and see where the fuck she is. She’s embraced every part of me and this life, and that’s not something I expected from her. I thought there would be a lot more crying and me having to physically hold her hand to damn her soul.

She’s taking it in stride. Honestly, in another life, she’d be all I could ever ask for in a partner, a lover…a—I run my hand over my features and slap myself.

That is not a route my thoughts get to go. We don’t have luxuries or privileges like that.

Besides, she’d be a weakness. The less I have of those, the better.

A blacked-out SUV pulls up out front of the hotel, and Scott steps out, swirling the keys in his hand like he’s immortal and doesn’t have darkness breathing down his neck.

I reach for the door handle when my phone rings and answer without hesitating.

“Have you found him?” November asks.

Holstering my pistol, I stand from my car. Pinning my phone between my shoulder and ear, I button my suit jacket and adjust my tie. “I got him.”

“Good. Don’t engage.” Her order stops me mid-stride across the parking lot, and a car honks for me to move.

“I beg your finest pardon,” I say sarcastically. “You don’t want me to kill the bastard who sabotaged our entire operation and put countless innocent families at risk?” My skin heats.

“We can’t afford to spook Darius. If he thinks we’re close, he’ll go back to hiding.”

I wet my lips and shift my weight. “So what? I’m a fucking babysitter, just watching and waiting to see what Scott does or where he goes?”

“Correct. Report back with what you find.” The line goes silent, and I press the edge of my phone into my forehead .

Standing there in the dead of night, I glance from the hotel to my car and back.

Fuck orders .

I am this close to Scott, and I want some goddamn answers. Then I’ll kill him, hunt Darius down, and take him out for what he did to me.

I walk back to my car, toss my phone in the seat, and then lock the door. I grab what I need from the trunk. Once satisfied with my plan, I run a hand over my hair to smooth any pieces out of place and stride into the hotel with a sense of being a rich asshole. That seems to get anyone what they want in this world.

The gold reflective elevator shows me just how much I look like I belong here. A three-piece expensive suit, flashy watch—handsome. I smirk at the oblivious people milling around the lobby. The elevator dings open, and I step inside, hitting the number ten. We were taught to keep a low profile. Pick a floor in the middle. Wear average clothing. Drive average cars.

None of which Scott is doing.

Once in his hall, I find his room and press my ear to his door, listening for any sounds of movement. Slipping the master key from my pocket, I glance over my shoulder to check up and down the hallway for anyone watching.

I sneak in and quietly click the door closed. Shadows dance across the space caused by the moonlight shining through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. I step further into the first room. My gun is a familiar comfort in my hand as I walk into the eluding darkness.

Keeping quiet, I press my back into the wall and swing around wide, aiming my gun into the open living area.

No, Scott .

After checking the entire suite, it’s empty. My hand tightens around the grip of the pistol, and my teeth crack together.

Where the fuck is he ? He walked in here. Where else would he go? I stride back into the living area and stand in front of the windows, staring out over the lit-up city.

“What are you doing, Scott?” I mutter, trying to get into his head. Think like he does, play out how he would react to being hunted for once.

Pain shoots through my shoulder, and I stagger back at the force of the—Time slows as I register what is happening. The window cracks, and I drop to the floor and glance up to see another small hole break through the glass. That one would have struck me right in the chest.

I army crawl to my discarded pistol, shots firing over my prone body, hitting the couch and kitchen island.

A trail of blood smears across the floor to my side, and I groan as I try to lift my arm to my lap. I reach for my phone, then remember I left it in the car.

Fuck.

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I slide it off my shoulder and hiss at the bullet hole two inches higher than my heart. Sweat rolls down my spine, and I rack through my options.

Scott is smart, and he fights dirty. Smarter than I gave him credit for. He knew I was on to him. Hell, he probably planted that intel just to lure me here.

Another bullet shatters the glass of a picture frame hanging beside the door, and I sigh in annoyance.

I’m bleeding. It fucking hurts, and I have to get out of here before Scott comes to confirm my termination.