Chapter 9

Noah

The hinges creak as the heavy front door of my old house falls shut behind me. I take a deep breath, the cool late autumn air filling my lungs, the warmth of the setting sun tickling my face. Turning back, I look at the house—its dull brick facade, the windows dark and empty like soulless eyes staring back at me. I should have sold it the moment Evelyn and I moved away. The thought crosses my mind for what feels like the hundredth time since I got here three days ago.

Every time we come back to the city, we stay at Evelyn's old apartment. It's more convenient, closer to her friends and their usual hangout spots. Yet I still can't part with this old house and the memories it holds within its walls. I thought about keeping it for us, a place to stay during our regular trips to New York City, but that plan never materialized. Maybe it's about time to move on, to let it go for good.

The sound of a car's blaring horn startles me and drags me out of my thoughts. I whip around, turning my attention to the driveway, where I'm greeted by the familiar sight of Kyle getting out of our rental car. I take the two steps down and walk toward him, looking him up and down as he walks around the car.

"I never thought I'd see you actually wear a suit one day." I snatch the keys from his hand and walk around the car to the driver's side.

"First and last time. How do you wear those tight pants all day? They're fucking uncomfortable," he complains as he pulls open the passenger door.

"Mine are not too tight. Simple as that." Once in the driver's seat, I push the start button and maneuver the car out of the driveway before stepping on the gas, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Jeans are much more comfortable and also more durable."

He is right about the durability part. In hand-to-hand combat, jeans are better. The chances of scarring your legs in a fall are slim. But I disagree on the comfort part; I don't like the rigid fabric against my skin. It feels rough, unyielding, and every time they shift, it's like sandpaper scraping against my skin. It's not just uncomfortable, it's irritating.

"Well, let's hope we don't have to fight anyone tonight. I wouldn't want your pretty knees to get scratched." I flash him a shit-eating grin.

"Fuck you." Kyle snorts and hits my shoulder.

The drive doesn't take too long and half an hour later I pull into the underground parking lot of the venue and park in the back of the dimly lit concrete halls. We still have some time before our contact arrives to take us to the event and introduce us to the inner circle. I unbuckle my seat belt and sink back into the leather, pulling my phone from the inner pocket of my suit jacket. With a tap on the screen, it flickers to life and shows a bunch of missed messages from Evelyn. Our chat pops up and shows all her messages as soon as I unlock it. She has a habit of not writing everything in one text, but breaking up whatever she has to say into multiple small texts. Most people find this irritating, I find it endearing.

Dove: Good Morning

Dove: Today is the day!

Dove: I miss you

Dove: Good luck and take care

Dove: Can't wait to have you back home!

Dove: I love you!

A series of pictures follows and a small smile creeps across my face as I flip through the images. They are of casual things like her breakfast, the morning sun in our backyard, my doves, and…

"She's got a great ass, you're lucky," Kyle says, leaning over the middle console, staring at my phone. I immediately press the button on the side and the screen turns off before I shoot a glare in his direction.

"Don't push your luck."

"It's not my fault that you're looking at her lewd pictures when I'm sitting right next to you." He props his arm on the center console, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't, brother ."

"I should have refused your parents' offer to adopt me back then."

"Oh, come on. You love Mom and Dad, and without them you would have become an erratic serial killer who would have ended up on death row."

"There are times when I wonder if this would have been a better choice."

"No, it wouldn't. You love your fucked up life, especially since you found Evelyn. You have never been happier, or whatever emotion you feel in the name of happiness." He chuckles before his eyes dart back to my phone. "Question about her, what are you going to do as your grand gesture for allowing you to do the job?"

I sigh and lean back in my seat, rubbing my eyes through my closed lids. "I've been thinking about taking our relationship to the next level."

"And what would that be?"

"Ask her to marry me." I open my eyes again and look at Kyle.

"Marriage? You?" Kyle's jaw drops and his eyebrows shoot up as he looks at me in utter disbelief.

"Yes. Me taking this job has made her question my commitment to our relationship, and I want to show her that I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"That's very noble. But marriage? Really?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Because you are… you ." A lopsided smile finds its way to his lips. "You never really cared about serious relationships. Hell, the thought of love, affection and anything genuine with women gave you the ick."

"Yeah, but it just feels right. And she deserves a happy ending. "

" She sure does," Kyle says before turning his attention to the rearview mirror. I do the same, watching as someone pushes through the heavy doors that lead to a fire escape.

"Is that our guy?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's him." Kyle reaches for the door handle, but I grab his arm and stop him.

"How did you meet him again?" I furrow my brows as I watch the man nervously check the watch on his wrist, his eyes darting around the parking lot.

"Our client set him up, had him infiltrate them a few months ago for information."

"And are you sure we can trust him? Because he seems nervous."

Kyle sighs and pushes my hand off of him. "Yes, we can. I did my job. Background check, everything, trust me."

"Good, then let's go."

As Kyle gets out of the car, I type a quick message to Evelyn and drop my personal phone in the car's glove compartment before getting out and trailing after him. I tug at the hem of my suit jacket to straighten the wrinkled fabric as we approach the man waiting for us. Kyle greets him enthusiastically, as if they were friends, even though he only knows one of his alternate identities. They exchange a few pleasantries until the guy's attention shifts to me and the nervousness returns to his face, his brows furrowed, as his eyes dart back and forth between us.

"And who are you?" he asks.

"The infamous White Dove Killer, as requested by Mr. Bloom," Kyle responds on my behalf, throwing one of his arms around my shoulders.

"Does he have a name?"

"Names are not important to the job," I say, keeping my face stern and emotionless.

"Names are important for good collaboration and trust," the guy pushes, and I shoot a glare at Kyle, who gives me his customary shrug.

"I don't trust you yet."

"I guess I can't blame you." The guy shrugs and turns away from us, heading for the door he came from. "We should probably get going before someone sees us and gets suspicious."

While Kyle walks beside him, engaging in small talk, I back off, staying a few feet behind to watch for any suspicious behavior. I don't like working with others. The only one I tolerate is Kyle. I trust him. He is good at his job and usually, with a few exceptions, he gets his shit done properly.

After three flights of stairs, the man pushes through another door into a humid, stuffy hallway. Kyle follows without a care in the world. But something smells fishy. "Hey, Kyle." I raise my hand and place it on his shoulder. He stops, but before he can turn and look at me, a small tranquilizer hits the back of his neck just inches from my hand.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching for the pin and ripping it out of his skin, but it's too late and he slumps to the floor. I catch him in the middle of his fall and put him on the ground before I quickly draw my two pistols, aiming one at our contact and the other in the direction from which the tranquillizer came.

"You fucking traitor," I hiss at the man, pushing myself to my feet, ready to pounce when the door to the staircase behind me flies open and two men rush in. Acting quickly, I spin on my heel and charge in their direction. I collide headfirst with one of them, ramming my shoulder into his chest, wrapping my arms around his stomach and hurling him over my shoulder.

As I spin around, ready to pounce on the next guy, he is already in the middle of his jump, lunging at me and knocking me off my feet. My body collides with the concrete floor as the man drives a punch straight into my face. I groan in pain, squeezing my eyes shut. But instead of giving up, I thrust my hips up, knocking the man to the ground and tumbling on top of him. I wrap my fingers around his throat and begin to squeeze. My heart hammers against my chest, pumping adrenaline through my veins as I squeeze harder and harder. The man's eyes bulge, the veins in his temple throb and his face turns crimson. A sinister satisfaction rushes through me as life slips from the man's eyes.

A pair of hands lands on my shoulders, yanking me off him and slamming me to the ground. Followed by three more men throwing themselves at me. I groan, trying to push myself to my feet, trying to break free, but I'm shoved back down and the last thing I see is a man's foot coming at my face.

I let out a long, painful moan as consciousness creeps back to me. My brain is clouded with dizziness as the room spins around me while my limbs feel heavy but weightless at the same time. I raise my hand to my face, tracing the outlines of the pulsing pain, inspecting my cheeks and nose, feeling the bone out of place under my fingertips. Great, my nose is broken.

I take a deep breath but choke on the moist air. The lingering stench of mold on concrete burns my lungs. Resting my hands on the floor, I push myself up into a sitting position. The room is dark, the only source of light being the crack in the door, filtering in a narrow strip of bluish moonlight .

Looking around, I spot the silhouette of someone else lying on the ground. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but eventually I make out Kyle's features. I scoot over to him, grab his shoulder and give him a shake. "Hey idiot, wake up." Thankfully, he does, groaning as he squirms and pushes himself up to his knees.

"What happened?" he asks in a hoarse voice.

"We walked right into a trap. Good job." I pat him on the back before getting up and taking another look around the room. There is nothing to give away where we are. The only useful information is the light filtering through the door, indicating that it's night.

"Like you would have done it better."

"Of course. Because I would not have trusted an outsider."

A pair of strong hands land on my shoulder, tossing me around and shoving me back until Kyle has me pinned against the wall. My muscles flex and I reach for my chest, ready to aim my pistol at him for the sudden confrontation. But my holster is gone.

"Our fucking client is the one who set up the contact. You really think my first instinct is that someone we have a history with would betray us? "

"Don't touch me," I force out through gritted teeth, glaring at him. "But you're right. Also arguing won't help us now, we have to get out of here." I shove him away and step out of his reach. I pat myself down, looking for anything, but they took everything that could be used as a weapon. "They even took my fucking belt," I point out with a sigh.

Kyle does the same. "Those bastards," he grunts. "What are we going to do now, Mr. I Know Better?"

I approach the door, grab the handle, push and pull, but to no one's surprise, the door is locked. Obviously. "I guess we have to wait for someone to come back for now," I say, turning back to face Kyle. There's not much we can do now. We're trapped and as annoying as it is, we have to stay calm. Going for each other's throats is what they would like to see. Maybe one of us will kill the other and then they will only have one left to deal with.

At the sound of vents opening, we both tilt our heads up to find a faint mist raining from the sprinklers. I lower my head and meet Kyle's gaze. We both raise our eyebrows and let out yet another heavy sigh. I guess we're not done with our beauty sleep yet.