The cottage was everything you’d expect from a multi-million-dollar estate. The foyer introduced a grand staircase to the second level of luxury accommodations.Hardwood floors creaked as I walked around; the vaulted ceilings and picture windows draped with light curtains created an open and airy space. It was the chef’s kitchen with craftsman’s cabinetry in walnut that I loved the most about this cottage. I honestly couldn’t see why they wanted this all redone.
I dropped my bag on the bed. Out of the five bedrooms in the cottage, I chose the one closest to the front door, with a window overlooking the largest part of the estate. It was also the room with the loose wooden paneled floors—the last thing I’d fix right before I’d leave.
The floors creaked beneath my feet as I stepped around. It was on the other side of the bed, farthest away from the door, where I found the spot. I removed two floor panels before grabbing one of my black duffel bags, carefully unzipping it.
First, I took out my Mossberg 590A1 shotgun and placed it in the hole, followed by two Glock 26’s—fully loaded, unpacking eight magazines and thirty rounds of shotgun ammo. But it wasn’t until I brought the large suitcase closer, revealing the sniper bag inside, that I felt the rush of adrenaline I had grown addicted to. Instantly my skin erupted as adrenaline surged through my veins as it always did whenever I saw my Barrett M82 sniper rifle.
“Hey, baby-girl.” I gently picked it up, smoothing my hand across the cold steel. This was the only thing I had left of my past. The one thing that reminded me who I really was and who I’d always be.
Placing it back in its bag, I closed it and packed it in the hole with the other weapons. I reached into the duffel bag, the glint of chains and the cold of stainless steel against my fingertips reminding me why these goddamn chains were a souvenir—a token of atonement.
I placed the bag next to the weapons before securing the panels back in place. I moved the gray rug that had been placed by the bedroom door over the floor, marking where I had my shit hidden. No one will ever take me by surprise.
“Sienna! Where the fuck are you going?”
“A wedding, remember?”
“Not dressed like that, you aren’t.”
I straightened and stood by the window, William Whitlock stomping behind his daughter who was dressed in black from head to toe.Odd choice for a wedding.
Sienna Whitlock, the redheaded twenty-year-old English-Lit student who failed her last semester at Waterford University. The girl who kissed a stranger, set his lips on fire, and made his body burn in completely inappropriate ways.
Especially since that man was almost fifteen years older than her.
Especially since that man was me.
I continued watching them, slipping to the side so I wouldn’t be seen
“Black?” Whitlock caught up to her. “Really, Sienna?”
“You might be celebrating today, Dad, but I’m in full mourning mode. So, wearing black is quite appropriate for me.”
“Stop this bullshit right now!”
Sienna turned to face her dad.
“What’s bullshit is you marrying this woman thinking that she actually loves you.”
“Stop.”
“How is it that everyone around you can see that Elenor is nothing but a gold-digging bitch, yet you refuse to see it.”
He walked up to her, his shoulders squared beneath his black tuxedo, pointing his finger in her face. “I will not tolerate you disrespecting my wife like that.”
“She is not your wife yet.” Sienna didn’t back down an inch, and even from a distance I could see the fire blazing in her eyes as she glared at her dad.
“The sooner you deal with the fact that Elenor is a part of this family, the sooner we can all move on.”
“Like you moved on from Mom? I’m sorry, Dad, but I can’t just forget about Mom and move on simply because some whore sucks your dick every night.”
Whitlock grabbed her arm and jerked her close.
“Dad, let go. You’re hurting me.”
I was out that door within a split second, slamming it shut behind me and making my presence known. Both of them looked my way, and I glowered at Whitlock. “Everything okay out here?”
“Everything is fine.” He let go of her arm and righted his suit jacket.
I glanced at Sienna, her other hand wrapped around her elbow. “You sure?” I asked, still staring at her. With the distance between us, I could see there was no recognition as she looked my way.
Abruptly she turned on her heel and walked away, Whitlock staying behind. There was a warning in his eyes as he glared in my direction. “Word of advice. Mind your own business while you work for me.”
He stomped off, and I watched the girl in the black dress walking as fast as she could until she disappeared around the corner.
I didn’t like what I just saw, but my instincts spoke loud and clear.‘You’re here to do a job and move on ASAP. Do not get involved. Do not participate. And do not make friends or enemies. Be a ghost.’
I stood outside for a while longer, guests starting to drive up, parking their cars at the front around the large water fountain. Waiters moved about, greeting guests with glasses of champagne and ushering them to the garden where the ceremony would take place.
There was this prickle in the back of my neck, a slight warning that maybe I made a mistake by taking this job. I usually declined projects like the Whitlock’s renovations. High-profile rich people always managed to get their names and pictures in the tabloids with some or other scandal, drawing unwanted attention to the family and whoever they were associated with. But when the man offered accommodation on his highly secured estate with around the clock state of the art security, I decided to bend my own rules a bit. Besides, how much drama can one family stir within six weeks anyway?