The Dictator started rolling around in my mind with his orders and the jobs he planned out. We had other matters to put to bed, things looking messier with each job we went to. I made a mental note to ask Reaper about what he knew, since I was usually just told to go and execute. They never trusted me much even though I would supposedly inherit the company at some point.

If he’d just trust me more. Oh, but he can’t. I’m just a nuisance to him.

A car slowly rolled down the street and the headlights forced me to cover my eyes. I scooted down to avoid being seen but stayed in a position where I could easily see what happened. It stopped at Fallon’s house and parked. My vision readjusted, seeing Garrett and Fallon walking to the front door.

I bet she’ll lock lips with him and think of me. I wanted her to. The question of if she would burned in the back of my mind.

Why am I being so creepy? Usually, I would just dip out if they were too challenging. But not with her.

Fallon and Garrett stood at her doorstep. This time, I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I wanted to. Was she rejecting him or accepting him? I plotted something and stashed it in the back of my mind for later while I watched their body language. They were standing too close for the second time tonight. His hand found its way up to the left side of her face, caressing her jaw.

It was pretty much a movie in slow motion as they kissed again. Long and drawn out, I felt my stomach do something...weird. The way her mouth moved with his for too long before they pulled away made me want to punch him. He said something else to her before he turned to leave, and I watched as her eyes tracked him longingly while he went.

Does she look at me like that?

She closed the door after he drove away and I stood up, contemplating my options. I could march over there and kidnap her, but that would make me late to see Reaper.

Unsure of how long I actually stood there, I headed to my bike to show up late anyway.

Reaper was in my wing of the house when I arrived, lounging in my favorite chair and drinking my favorite bottle of whiskey. He wasn’t a very patient man.

Where did that fucking cat come from? It sat in his lap purring like a fucking engine.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Hanging out. Want some?”