Movement inside the diner caught his eye and Jaxon felt the world slip away as he brought the binoculars to his eyes again and focused on the brightly lit interior. There were several patrons inside enjoying a greasy meal of Americana, and several kitchen staff could be seen scurrying about further inside. He noticed two new staff members and felt a slice of impatience stab him.
She was nowhere to be seen.
A flicker of annoyance rushed through Jaxon but was quickly put to rest. He was used to waiting. Patience was a virtue, and in his line of work it usually meant the difference between life and death.
He lay there quiet, focused and with deadly intent.
When a flash of blond hair moved from the kitchen and into the main dining area, he almost missed it. Jaxon bit his tongue, tasting the coppery scent of his own blood.
The world did indeed stop then. Everything faded into a swirl of fog as he expanded the amplification to give him a close-up of the face that had haunted him nightly.
He hissed sharply as the lens focused, feeling a keen sense of frustration run through him as her back was presented to the window. He could take her out now. One bullet straight to the back of the head and she’d be dead before she hit the ground.
Instead he held his breath, willing her body to turn so he could lay eyes upon her one more time.
Her body was hunched over slightly, and as he took a second to clinically look her over, he was surprised to note the drastic weight loss. The seam of her spine was plainly visible against the white cotton shirt she wore. She also seemed to be favoring her left side, her posture suggesting weakness there.
Her long blond hair thrown up into a careless ponytail had darkened somewhat, as if she’d been too long from the warmth of the sun. A few of the strands had fallen free, and he watched the arc of her hand as she attempted to push the tendril from where it tickled the side of her neck.
His eyes homed in on the pale expanse of skin there, and once more visuals he cared never to visit again darkened his mind. Angrily he beat them away, welcoming the fresh rush of emotion that infused his spirit as hatred again encircled his heart.
He was done. It was time.
He carefully placed the binoculars to his left and leaned in low, setting his eye to the telescopic lens attached to his weapon.
Within seconds he had a clear view, his fingers grasping the trigger as he eyed his target with determination.
He just needed her to move slightly to the left and the civilian would be out of the picture. Then he would have a clear shot.
She bent toward the patron before pausing, and once more he noted the stiffness of her movements.
Without warning she turned quickly, and the flicker of pain that crossed her features startled him. But Jaxon was even less prepared for the face that peered out into the night.
As if she knew he was there.
The expressive violet eyes seemed to be too large for her face. There were dark circles ringed beneath them. Her pallor was startling and her cheeks shrunken. Her generous lips were without color, and as his eyes focused on hers once more, Jaxon felt a sharp pang of…something.
Her eyes were wary, pained. He could see from several hundred feet out that, as she peered into the early evening gloom, she was scared shitless.
He laughed harshly under his breath. She should be scared out of her mind.
A thought rushed through him, so out of character that he dismissed it right away. But as he watched her slowly turn from the window and walk toward the kitchen, his mind was already made up.
In his entire career he’d never once broken protocol. But tonight was different. He would let emotion take the lead, and maybe he’d get some sort of closure.
Maybe he would find out why she’d betrayed the unit, or better yet, why she’d betrayed him.
The cold part of his heart roared to life as he jumped to his feet and grabbed his satchel. Quickly, he dismantled his weapon, hitching the large bag around his shoulders before making his way stealthily down the embankment toward town.
Yeah, it was time to make things right.
Before she took her last breath and felt the heat of his vengeance, Libby Jamieson would know who her executioner was.
Deep inside his soul, the cat roared with pleasure, and Jaxon quickened his pace in answer to its call.
“Libby, does table seven want mashed or fries with his steak?”