5
Damien
There's a reason I avoid assignments like these. It's just too much hard work. Take Ezra for an example. So conceited and oblivious, wrapped up in her high society bullshit, without a clue about what goes on in the world, or under her own roof for that matter. So much so that she thinks this is some ridiculous fantasy her best friend has set up. Well, shit was about to get real for her really fast.
I knew she would try to escape or start snooping around the moment I left. I got a notification on my cell about a security breach. She's in my bedroom. I turn the car around and drive back up to the house. Luckily, I wasn't too far away. I jump out of the car and walk to the house; unlocking the front door, I quietly skip up the steps. There she was, remote in her hand, the other covering her mouth, clearly shocked. Stupid bitch couldn't leave well enough alone.
"Oh my God," I watch her reaction closely. Her face pales visibly while the reality of her situation comes crashing down on her at a hundred miles per second. My various passports were clutched in her hands. She suddenly drops the remote and the passports and turns until she walks straight into my body and gasps, startled.
"Damien."
"You shouldn't have done that," I stare down into her upturned face. Ezra blinks up at me and looks back at the armory I had concealed under my bed. Sniper guns, handheld guns, Glock forty-five, ranger rifle, and machine guns. One step back, two steps back, and she grabs a handgun and points it at me. I sigh and roll my eyes. She’s ballsy. I give her that, “Ezra put down the gun.”
“Let me go, or I swear I will shoot you.” Ezra threatens, her hands shaking wildly while she places her finger on the trigger. I take a step toward her, and she retreats. “Stay back, Damien!”
I stare into her eyes as I take another step until the barrel of the gun is pressed against my chest. “Go ahead. Pull the trigger.” I urge, and she stares at me through eyes swimming in tears. “Kill me, Ezra.” We stare at one another.
I lift my hand, wrap it around her wrist, and twist it until she drops the gun and whimpers a little when I yank her against me. “Pretty girl, if you’re bold enough to pick up a gun with intent to kill, you better be prepared to pull that trigger.” I let my eyes roam over her face before I look into her eyes. “Especially if the person you’re pointing a gun at is an assassin,” I inform her evenly, and her blue eyes go wide. Ezra stumbles back, her eyes avert to the door, and she takes off running.
I sigh and stride after her, easily catch up as she rounds the corner. I snake my arm around her waist, I pull her back against my chest, and she lets out a shrill scream. "Whoa. Where do you think you're going, princess."
"Let me go, please!" Ezra thrashes around in my hold like a fish out of water.
"Calm the fuck down." I tighten my hold on her and trap her arms with my own, but she wouldn't stop squirming. I lean close to her ear, "Don't force me to sedate you again." I warn her, and she stops fighting in my hold almost immediately.
"Again?" She breathes, and her voice quivers ever so slightly. "When did you..." She turns her head and looks up at me, her blue eyes wide, her state of panic evident. I stare down into her upturned face hard. I didn't think a woman could be even more beautiful without makeup. Ezra Quintero was an absolute goddess of exquisiteness, from her head to her fucking toes. Was I attracted to her? Undeniably. Will I let that little detail affect my job? Absolutely not.
I walk her back toward the guest room and push her into it. "What do you want with me?" She questions, stumbling into the room. Ezra walks around slowly, guarded, watching my every move as I close in on her.
I reach and wrap my hand around her throat, effortlessly lift her off the ground and drop her down on the bed. Ezra begins thrashing around, pushing and punching my chest as I climb on top of her. I grab hold of her hands and pin them above her head. "Do you have any idea what you've just done? You couldn't just sit there and behave."
"Why do you have all those weapons and passports?" She questions again, gazing up at me, blue eyes filled with fear. "What is Dynasty?"
I shake my head and sigh. "I suggest you start behaving yourself, Ezra. As I'm sure you're now aware, this is not a joke, and when I say I will kill you, know that I mean it."
Tears fill her eyes and spill down her pale cheeks. I let her go and get off the bed. Ezra shuffles away from me. "You want answers, get yourself dressed and come downstairs," I say and leave her standing there staring at my retreating back. "Don't make me come up here again," I throw over my shoulder and make my way downstairs.
* * *
I walkinto the living room and pull my cellphone from my pocket and dial James.
"Damien?"
"We have a problem," I growl down the phone, not bothering with pleasantries. I explain to him that she found my weapons and papers and she knows about the agency.
"Christ, Damien, how could you let this happen?"
"I popped out for supplies, and she began snooping."
"We'll deal with this later. Right now, we need something. Hugo won't bite. He wants proof of life, wants to be sure his daughter is alive before he pays out." I roll my eyes and sigh, "And Damien, it needs to be good. None of that strapped to a chair holding a newspaper bullshit. If he's paying twenty million dollars, they need something that will tarnish his reputation—something that will force his hand."
I scowl, "And you don't think he will pay that in exchange for his daughter's safety?"
"Remember, it's not just about Ezra. Hugo has fingers and arms everywhere. He won't go down without a fight, so you need to be vigilant and stay alert. Were you careful? Did you cover your tracks?" James asserts, and I can hear him exhale, which means he's smoking those damn cigars.
"Yes. Unless he put a tail on me, his cronies will have a tough time finding us where we are." I explain and turn when I hear the floorboard creak. I see Ezra standing by the staircase, watching me inquisitively. I look her over; she was wearing the pair of denim jeans and a satin ivory blouse I picked out for her. Her long dark hair looked almost jet black when wet, which she had braided neatly.
"Good lad. Send me something and make it soon."