6
Kane
Follow Her
Islide my truck to a stop up the street from the single-story apartment a billion miles from mine, and watch Jess struggle to push her car door open. Crying, clumsy with her bag and files, the small car literally rocks on the wheels when she tries to get out but fails to open the actual door.
On a cry of disgust, she tries a second time and pushes the door open on squeaky hinges. Like she’s angry at the leather of her five-hundred-dollar bag, she whips it over her shoulder and climbs out of the hatchback onto her twisted ankle.
So unbelievably sad, I watch her limp along the front path in those ridiculously high shoes and hold herself in a way that telegraphs aching ribs.
Her skirt sits off center, her hair messed at the back. She literally walked her ass across town to get her car, slid straight in without ducking into her office first, then came home.
And I followed every move she made.
Because I care that she doesn’t end up dead.
No other cars remain on her street. Everyone’s already at work. With her bloody coat pulled tight around her lean body to hide my shirt from the world, she steps in her front door and slams it shut.
And not once does she notice me just fifty yards away keeping watch.
I shake my head at her carelessness, perform a U-turn, and head toward Infernos.
I have work to do, and probably another beating to take for flaking last night.
I’m Abel’s best soldier.
The strongest. The fastest. The smartest.
But when your strongest, fastest, smartest man ditches work with no good explanation, you task the nine next smartest, fastest, strongest soldiers to take care of business and teach that man a lesson.
The same lesson I was taught two nights ago for dealing with Lance when I was told to stand down.
Eighteen months of working for Abel, and the first time I ever disobeyed an order was two nights ago while a pretty girl was crying out for help.
The second time, last night, when that same pretty girl was falling asleep in my arms and whimpering in pain.
She’s going to get me killed.
That’s not a joke. It’s a damn fact. Shewillget me killed.