Page 2 of Targeted By Love
Leaning back, my hands behind my head, I twirled the chair around, thinking of how to celebrate. I strolled through my modern apartment with a view over the city. The neutral furnishings highlighted with pops of color, the paintings from up-and-coming artists, the luxurious fabrics that I ran my fingers over, and the carpets I’d tracked down in remote corners of the world.
It was all mine and achieved through hard work. Though I was the eldest son, I’d received nothing from my folks, because though they worked for a prominent “family,” they were the foot soldiers, carrying out orders, working in factories and shit jobs—literally.
I loved them and my brothers. But this was mine, and I was proud of who I’d become.
My other phone beeped, the work device. Not the job where I snuck around ending bad guys’ lives but my public-facing one. I was a trader for my own hedge fund. A market on the other side of the earth was about to open. I needed to concentrate, as there’d been upheavals in the world and I may have to adjust my positions.
A quick shower later and a snack at my side, I submerged myself in bonds, stocks, and commodities.
This job required me to stay up long into the night, sleep for a few hours, and start again early in the morning. As a shifter I needed less sleep than humans, and the rush of adrenaline I got from my day job and the occasional sorties into my “other line of work” had me looking forward to each day.
It was two in the morning before I turned off the computer and collapsed into bed.
Forgot something?
My wolf was a stickler for cleanliness, and he hated when I had bad breath.
Sorry.Stumbling into the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and turned off the light.
But that detour into the bathroom had woken me and sleep was now on the horizon. One sure way of falling asleep was to watch a documentary. Even if it was a program I was engrossed in, at this time of night, it would put me to sleep in five minutes. In the morning, I’d be on episode ten, having not remembered much past the opening credits.
I’ll watch.
Though my eyes may close, my wolf would see and hear, and unlike most other shifter beasts, he loved TV, especially unsolved crimes. If I was awake, he’d whisper that he knew who did it and how I had to contact the police.
No way was I leaving a message for the cops, putting me under suspicion. But I always left an anonymous message for a journalist or a public official, one that couldn’t be traced.
My wolf liked to think of himself as a crime-fighting hero with his name in lights as he walked a red carpet. That was odd considering my second job.
Sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow and you’ll need to be alert.
Goodie!Are we out of the office doing who knows what?
Yes and no. It’s boring. Meeting with a possible new client. Be on your best behavior.
He understood what I was saying. He couldn’t come to the forefront of my gaze and make the guy shit himself, though that tactic had come in handy on a previous hit. The target had a bad heart, but that wasn’t the only “bad” thing about him. I’d given my beast permission to take some of his fur, just over my arms, and my canines extended.
The target’s last thought before he went headfirst into his soup was probably, “Werewolf!”
2
RHODES
Friday night, I used to race home so I could get ready for a night on the town with friends. My, how things had changed over the years. Now, my packed evening included stopping at the grocery for coffee creamer, grabbing my dry cleaning, and picking up my mail.
“Been a while since we’ve seen you.” The clerk behind the counter snapped his gum… just like always.
I turned the key to open up my mailbox, wondering if I could get away with ignoring him. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him and his nosiness. Once upon a time, I’d thought maybe he had a crush, and that was why he always had to make a comment when I came in. But over the years, it became clear: he was just nosy, nosy, nosy.
He popped his gum again.
I conceded. “Yeah, I’ve been busy at work.” I didn’t even turn my head, instead opening up my mailbox and pulling out its contents.
He wasn’t wrong—it had been a few weeks since I came here. But really, all my bills were done online now, and most everything else I got was junk mail. The only reason I kept this box was to maintain a uniform address and have a place for packages to go. I should probably let it go, but that meant changing my address for everything, and paying for this place consistently won out over doing all of that.
My new place was pretty safe; I didn’t have to worry about people stealing my stuff. But a few apartments back, that wasn’t the case. Even the newspaper would get stolen. Packages? Those never made it all the way to me. So, this had been my solution, and I’d stuck with it.
“Yeah, work can be a bummer.” He tapped his fingers on the counters. He was always moving. I normally didn’t mind. Heck, I usually shot the shit with him, but not today. Today all I wanted to do was go home, order a pizza, and watch mindless television until my brain settled enough to sleep.