Once inside Riley’s house, Adrian dropped the bag of food on the kitchen table and Riley disappeared behind a door at the end of the house. It took her several minutes to walk out, but when she did, he was in complete awe.
She was dressed in a short, snug black dress, one that accentuated her curves, and Adrian had to force himself not to gape. Riley fumbled from one foot to the other putting on her shoes and from the disgusted look on her face she must be extremely uncomfortable.
She stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway, checking the dusting of makeup she’d applied.
Catching the reflection of Adrian staring in the mirror, Riley snapped her head around with a frown.
“What?”
“You look–”
“Like a whore? Yeah, your brother is a disgusting pig who makes me wear this to work. You have no idea how many hands I have to smack away from my butt.”
“I can only imagine.” Adrian felt guilty for staring, but he told himself it wasn’t simply his primal desire. He knew Lydia had been subjected to the same “uniform” and circumstances, and worse, and all for his case’s benefit. He found solace in the knowledge that Riley would reduce Julius to a pulp, though, if he tried anything fresh with her.
“Okay, I’m ready to go.”
“Let me walk you,” Adrian offered.
Riley stopped him before he could take another step toward the door. “Are you crazy? The point of all this is that Julius can’t suspect we know each other.”
“Fine. Fine. I’ll wait here, then. You go and do your thing.”
Riley walked toward the door, stumbling in her stilettos as she did. Adrian watched her, biting the inside of his cheeks, his hands forming fists in his anger. He enjoyed watching her go, but he hated the reason why.
Julius’s house was bursting with excitement, the buzz in the air palpable. Riley sensed that the loss of so many of his employees was driving Julius to celebrate life to distract himself from their deaths, but chuckled at the irony of the way Julius did it. She supposed destroying his body with drugs and drinking might have given him a good time, but knew the long-term consequences of his benders would catch up to him.
If she let him live that long.
The gambling began, and with it Riley’s desperation to flee. The eyes of the men leering at her disgusted her more with each passing minute. As the liquor flowed, the men found more courage to grab at her, and she forced herself not to strike each one with the drink tray in her hands.
When the clock struck midnight, Riley was eager to leave. If time was in her favor, she would still have time to get home, change into her outfit, and go on her usual patrol.
She barely spoke words of farewell on her way out the door, knowing her nighttime boss wouldn’t hear her anyway. Julius was half-sitting, half-lying on his couch, absolutely high. He didn’t notice when his peers were gone, let alone a waitress like her.
When she returned home, she was pleasantly surprised to come back to Adrian, who was pacing the living room as he waited for her. She brushed past him, though, and hurried to her bedroom to change into her third uniform of the day.
It took her exactly thirty minutes to get dressed in her black hoodie, black jeans, military boots, and mask. As she emerged into the kitchen where Adrian now waited, she watched as he stopped with his glass of juice halfway to his lips.
“What?” Riley asked.
“I never thought I’d see you transform into him, that’s all.”
“Well, I am him. Or her, really,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair back into her hood. “Anyway, Julius is sending his men out soon, so I should go.” She’d barely stepped toward the front of the house when she saw a car slowly rolling down the street, one she recognized as Marcus’s. “I can’t leave through the front door. That fuckwad is outside.”
“Use the back door, then. Hey, did you grab a different gun though?”
“Oh, right!” Riley turned and hurried back to her bedroom. “I’m so used to this one I grabbed it out of habit.”
Adrian followed her and stood in her doorway as she opened her ammo locker, holding boxes of bullets as well as her spare pistols. “Where did you get all these?”
“They were gifts from friends,” Riley lied. The only one that had really been a gift was the one she couldn’t use anymore. “I think I’ll go with the Glock 19 tonight. High round capacity, excellent grip. Small, but effective.” She picked up the gun and pointed straight at an invisible target in front of her before tucking it into the waistband of her jeans.
Adrian watched her sure, steady movements. “Are you ready?”
“Yep, I’m all set. Wish me luck,” Riley said, hurrying through the back door and over the garden wall while Adrian remained motionless.
The idea of having a witness while she prepared for her work made Riley a bit uncomfortable. It was one thing that Paige had once cured her wounds, but it was completely different having Adrian watching her as she picked her guns, or even seen how many she had.
She felt uneasy, lying to him about the acquisition of her arsenal after all he was doing for her, but she couldn’t tell him how many people she had killed to get those, or that they were actually her trophies from her husband’s murderers.
She would tell him, one day; just not at the moment. One step at a time.
In the bushes, the waiting was unbearable. Riley had felt the adrenaline pumping the minute she left the house, and she was eager for a way to unleash it.
After another fifteen minutes, she heard a hushed conversation
