His Target, page 7
Grabbing the notepad and the pen. I set to work making a makeshift calendar. I can cross one off for every twenty-four hours that pass. That way I'll know how many days I've been here and on which ones Porter will be here so that I can make sure not to be doing anything I don't want him to walk in on.
I frown as the thought hits me. I lived on the sixth floor, so I never cared about shutting my curtains unless I wanted to sleep in. Which means, he and whoever else had been watching me probably saw me masturbate more than once in the past week. My cheeks heat up. To think someone saw me doing that, that he could've seen me doing that. I want to die. I never thought anyone would be watching when I lived on the sixth floor.
Well, I'm going to have to forget that fact if I'm ever going to be able to look him in the eye again. I'm sure he doesn't care. It's clear to me he has no attraction to me. His words from the night before still playing in my head. It's clear he doesn't see me as anything more than a woman who needs his help. I haven't got a single threatening vibe off him. Which is saying something because I know he kills people to make his living.
However, he hasn't made me feel like I need to fear him. There's something about him that makes me feel safe. Like this morning, when he woke me up from one of my nightmares. It startled me at first because I've never had someone around that can comfort me after a nightmare. Instead of pushing him away and wanting him as far from me as possible, I cried into his chest and let him hold me. I don't remember the last time that I let someone touch me. It felt nice to be held, but I forced myself to move away from him because the last thing either of us needs is for me to catch feelings for him.
He doesn't need some girl half his age to be chasing after him like some lost puppy. I don't want him to have to do the awkward thing of rejecting me when he's made it clear I don't have a chance in hell, even if it feels like we get along well. He doesn't get offended by my standoffish humor. He took it with stride and joked with me.
Hell, even tried to respect me as much as possible and sleep on this small sofa. I don't think even I could comfortably sleep on this thing. I wasn't having that, so I'm glad he came and lied in the bed after I woke him up. Having him there next to me made me feel oddly safe. I didn't start having a nightmare until he stepped out of the room. I woke up briefly when he moved to sit up but fell back to sleep seconds later.
I sigh. I've had very few crushes in my life, and he can't be one of them. I have a feeling it will hurt the worst to be rejected by a good-looking man like him. Turning off the movie, I go to find a different one. I'll watch this one later when I feel like starting it over. It may be a long week by myself, but I'll make it through it. I've had worse than being forced to watch TV, read, or sleep for a week straight.
* * *
I wake up as the clock's alarm blares. I figured out how to set it after I played around with it a bit. I wanted to remain on some kind of schedule. Without the sun to regulate when I sleep, a schedule is key, so I don't end up sleeping at a time when Porter might show up. Today is Friday if my makeshift calendar is accurate.
I get up, shower quickly, and get dressed. I don't know why I'm so excited to see him, but some human interaction will be nice. I spend the morning washing the sheets so they'll be fresh and making sure the place is cleaned up. I have nowhere to take the trash, I can't leave the bag out in the middle of the woods, so the trash has been gathering in two bags by the hatch. I hope he can take them with him and dump them somewhere.
I took the steaks down to defrost in the fridge, he said he wanted those for when he comes.
By noon, it becomes a waiting game. I've cleaned everything and remade the bed, there's nothing else for me to do, so I put on one of The Beatles albums I found and pick one of the thicker books to settle down with. I used to be into reading a lot as a kid but haven't picked up a book since I was taken. It's strange to read again, I'm not as fast as I once was, but I'm finding comfort in it again. It helps me to be more in my head and not in this bunker.
At almost six in the evening, I've made it halfway through the Hobbit as the hatch opens. I jump up, still startled by the invading sound, even though I knew it would be coming. Part of me worries that it's not him and another hitman has found me. But I only went up for air once this week and just stuck my head out. If the hitmen know I'm here because of that little moment, then I guess I deserve to die.
The hatch closes and a second later he comes down the hall, bags in his hands. I smile at him. "Hi."
He smiles back and looks around. "Hi. Listening to the Beatles? Nice. I love them, too. How have you been managing?" He heads to the kitchen and puts the bags down.
I follow him and wait for him to look at me. "It's been easier than I thought it would be. I've been exercising as well down here and it's made me more hungry."
He raises a brow as he looks at me, his blue eyes twinkle from the lights overhead. man, I really must be missing human connection if I'm finding him beautiful in yellow lighting.
"Yeah? What kind of exercises?"
“Push-ups, sit-ups. Different stretches I remembered doing in PE as a kid."
He pulls out a couple of bottles of red and white wines, along with a bottle of vodka and some sprite. Well, it looks like he's planning to get me drunk. He probably wants me to talk to him. Tell him my past. I've thought and thought about this. I figure I should tell him something. He's risking his ass to help me, I doubt it's easy to hide me. And he didn't have to help me like he has. He could've left me to the WPP to handle, and I would be terrified in another state wondering when someone new is going to find me and kill me all because I put their leader in prison for the next two hundred years, which he won't even make it another ten years alive.
"How many pushups can you do?"
"Thirty before my arms start to want to give out on me, thirty-five if I push past that."
He nods as he opens the fridge to put the alcohol in it with the sprite. "I want you to do that three times a day. Keep pushing yourself to your limit, and then break for a bit before doing it again. Do it with anything you're working on. It will help you build muscles, and don't forget to eat protein. Also, take every other day off, so you don't get muscle fatigue."
A strange flutter enters my stomach. Normally, I would be pissed with someone telling me to do something. I'd want to rebel. But when it comes from him, it makes me want to do it, so that he can be proud of me. Maybe he would even give me praise. Why do I want that from him? That's not like me. Why do I care? It has to be because I haven't seen another person in a week.
I walk over to see what's in the other bag, choosing to not respond and confirm that I heard what he said. Just because he told me to do it, doesn't mean I have to do as he says. Even though I plan to and will.
Reaching into the bag I pull out some potatoes, garlic, rosemary, and butter, along with some asparagus. I look at him. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're trying to seduce me with this meal you have planned.
His eyes widen as a pink hue enters his cheeks and travels above his beard to his forehead. "I didn't mean for it to come off like that. It's just what I normally have with steak. Thank you for taking them out of the freezer so they could defrost."
Now it's my turn to raise a brow at him. I was only joking with him, but he's cute when he's flustered. Maybe he really was a Ducky in high school. I didn't believe him when he told me that. Someone as good-looking as him had to have been a lady killer all his life.
I smile and step forward to pat him on the chest. I sign, "Easy, big guy. I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers. I know you're not into me like that. I get it." I hide the bit of pain I feel behind a smile. Even if I was closer to an age he would be willing to date, that doesn't change the fact that below my breasts my body is riddled with torture scars. I can't even look at my body, how can I ever expect someone else to want to look at it?
He frowns at me for a split second, I don't know what that expression meant, but he points toward the movie shelves on the other side of the wall. He pulls another bag out of the food one I missed. "Why don't you go put these on the shelf, and if there's any of them that you want to watch, put it on. I'll get dinner done while you do that."
I take the bag from him and turn. Well, if that's not a rejection, I don't know what is. He clearly wants me as far away from him as possible.
Chapter Eight
Porter
Lord, give me strength. I should not be attracted to a woman who is so much younger than me. I thought coming here I could push any lustful thoughts away, but that look she gave me when she said I was trying to seduce her nearly made me spring a full-on erection. I haven't had a woman do that to me in a while. I normally have perfect self-control.
I glance up as I cut the potatoes into smaller chunks to boil. She's kneeling on the bed, reading the movies I brought with me and putting them on the shelves. It seems she's figured out how I sort them alphabetically and by genre. I do the same things with the records I have here.
Fuck, her ass is going to be the death of me. She might wear big clothes to hide her upper body, but her lower half looks incredible in yoga pants, and I'm pretty sure she's put on a little weight since last time. I don't remember her ass looking as full as it does. All it's doing is making me want to spank it, and I'm sure she wouldn't be into that. Why would she be when it looks like she's been through torture?
She glances over her shoulder at me and I turn my gaze back to the potatoes. I can't be attracted to her. She doesn't need someone fifteen years older than her to be sniffing up her tree. I'm not like that. Even if I feel like there's chemistry between us, I can't act on it.
She taps the wall, drawing my attention back to her. She holds up one of the Romcoms I bought for her. I haven't seen it, so I don't know if I'll like it. I'm picky when it comes to romance movies. Not that anyone in my family knows I like them at all. I'll take that secret to my grave. She'll be the only one that knows I enjoy them from time to time. I used to be a hopeless romantic when I was a kid before I learned what having a relationship is really like.
I nod. "Put it in. I haven't seen it, but it was in the five-dollar bin, and looked like it might be decent."
She nods and opens the case for The Truth About Cats & Dogs.
The movie starts as I have the potatoes in the boiling water and the steaks and asparagus ready to go in the oven. Hopefully, I timed it all right so that it all comes together at the same time.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" I look toward her as she's hitting play on the machine.
She looks at me and nods. "Thank you."
Such a polite woman. It makes me wonder what she would've been like if life hadn't gotten her to this point. Our paths would've never crossed if she had led a typical life. She'd be in college right now or doing something, and I would be working. She would've never shown up on my list.
I pull out the wine glasses I got from the dollar store before I came over. Nothing too fancy, but nice enough that we're not drinking wine out of plastic cups. I swear I'm not trying to seduce her. I just want her comfortable enough that she'll tell me her story and who I have to kill to make her life even easier once she has the chance to start over.
Pouring a nice red wine, that will pair well with the steak, I take her glass to her. "Here you go, Gwen."
She takes the glass from me with a slight shiver to her shoulders. Did me saying her name give her that reaction? I've only ever seen women do that when they're turned on. Perhaps Gwen is her real name, and she likes hearing someone say it?
"Thank you." She swirls it and then sips it.
She hums and nods. "It's good. I like it."
I smile. Well, at least she can appreciate good wine, and she knew to swirl it. I wonder where she learned that. "It's one of my favorites to have with steak. It's never steered me wrong. I like the flavors."
She nods. "My dad used to let me try a sip of his when I was a kid. I always wanted to feel grown-up when they had wine with dinner, but I never liked it until I was older. As a kid, I could never taste anything good. I wanted it to taste as good as they would make it look."
She glances at the screen as the movie fully starts. She moves carefully with the wine to sit crossed-legged on the bed. For a minute I wish I had a table and chairs down here, but this place was built for one human to live in it, so there's no room in here for that kind of furniture.
I take a seat on the sofa. My alarm will go off soon to drain the potatoes and take the steak out to rest. I've been cooking low and slow so it will be a nice pink medium instead of well done. I train my gaze on the movie but study her out of the corner of my eye.
It could be my imagination, but she does seem more relaxed around me than she was when I was here before. It's almost like I came over to her house and we're hanging out like friends would. I get the feeling she's used to changing in her life, that or she doesn't care that I'm here. I think we've established I won't hurt her. Or she's looking at it like she doesn't care if I kill her, so if I did something now, it wouldn't be a surprise to her.
She smiles at something said on the screen and uses her hand to cover her mouth. I want to tell her she can laugh if she wants to laugh, I don't mind it, but she seems so self-conscious about any sound that comes out of her throat.
My phone blares with the timer, making her jump. I turn it off and get up to drain the potatoes, mash them, and let the steak rest.
* * *
She sits on the sofa with me, it's a little tight, but it's easier to eat the steak if we can cut it on our laps. It's a pretty fine meal if I do say so myself; she seems to be enjoying it as well. I've caught her more than once chewing a bite with her eyes closed. When was the last time that she had a meal cooked for her like this?
"Do you like it?" I ask.
She turns her gaze from the movie to me. The main characters are trying to figure out if they like each other or not since she lied to him about her identity and there's a love triangle happening. It's a cute movie, but I don't know if I would want to watch it more than once. Gwen seems to be into it though. She has hardly taken her eyes off the screen. "It's very good. Thank you."
I nod. "Of course. Try a bit of wine the next time you take a steak bite, it will blow your mind."
She glances at the movie, before she does as I say, an odd thrill goes through me at seeing her enjoy the food. She makes a small sound in her throat as she tastes the two together and I have to grip my fork and knife harder as my dick twitches. I need to go out and get laid, that's all this is. It's been like six months since the last time. I'm not one that typically likes one-night stands, but I have them when I really need to have sex. Must be getting to that point again.
She looks at me. "That's so good. I never knew wine could taste so good. I always drank it to get drunk, so I never bothered to fully taste it and enjoy it."
A smile pulls at my lips. "Well, I'm glad that you like it. I'm not trying to get you drunk, just so you know. We can stop whenever you want. Okay?"
Another shiver shakes her shoulders and she nods. I'm glad my plate is over my dick, at least it's giving me a chance to get myself under control. That shiver is most certainly one of suppressed lust. I don't know what I'm saying or doing to turn her on, but I can tell I am. The fact that I'm horny as hell isn't helping matters, and I basically told her last week I would spend most of the weekend here, just so she has human contact. This is going to be a true challenge for my self-control.
Next week is Mother’s Day. I have a family luncheon to go to before Mother’s Day, but on the actual day, I have nothing planned. I'm not even sure she'll know it's Mother’s Day, but I don't want her to spend that whole weekend alone down here. Maybe I'll bring desert to make up for not spending the whole weekend with her. I don't know what she likes, but maybe I can figure it out over this weekend.
I didn't figure out much about her while gutting her apartment so that the landlord will think she up and moved without saying something. Her place was messy with food containers, but that was it. She didn't decorate it. None of her personality shows through anywhere. Even her clothes don't say much other than she likes to hide.
The movie ends and she seems happy with it. "Do you want more wine?" I take her empty glass off the floor as she stands with the dirty dishes.
She nods, as she goes to the trash and tosses our T-bones into it. I'll need to take them out with me when I leave for the store in the morning, I'm sure there will be a dumpster around the store somewhere, where I can dump them.
She washes and rinses the plates off and puts them on the drying rack before she moves onto the pot and pan. I place a hand over hers as I pick it up for her to take her glass. "We can wash the dishes tomorrow. Don't worry about it for the night now. We can put another movie on, or some music and talk."
She stares at me for a long second before she takes the glass from me and downs half of it. "We can talk, but I'm going to need something stronger than wine. I do owe you some explanation of why there are people who want me dead. You're protecting me from them after all."
I nod. I agree with her. The more I know about my enemy, the better. "I'll make us some sprite and vodka drinks. I also brought some cherry juice if you want me to mix that in. It makes them a little bit sweeter."
Her eyes widen as if I've just said the magic words that she's dying to hear. She nods and finishes off her wine, putting down the glass she signs, "That sounds lovely."
