SYDNEY
Half an hour after Jhay left for work, Sydney heard thetaptaptap…tap…taptapof knuckles against wood.
Jeff’s secret knock.
Grinning, she rushed to the front door and swung it open. “What took you so long? I almost thought you weren’t coming.”
“Sorry, I had to—”
“Don’t care,” she muttered, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and tugging him across the threshold so she could crush her mouth to his. “I just want you inside me.”
Jeff doffed his jacket. “If you’re always so hungry for my cock, why are you with that bitch?”
Sydney paused, then slapped his face. “Watch your mouth, hey. Iloveher.”
Jeff’s eyebrow lifted in a sardonic arch. “If this is what you do to the people you love, then I don’t even wanna know what you do to the ones you hate.”
“Just shut up and fuck me.”
With a shrug and a chuckle, Jeff swooped her up and headed over to the couch. Depositing her squirming body, he tugged his dress shirt from out of his pants before crowding down over her.
Reaching down, he grabbed the end of her short little sundress and whipped it over her head, then bit his lip when he found she was wearing nothing underneath. “My God, Syd, you’re so damn hot.”
“And wet,” she whispered back, “and ready.”
As Jeff leaned down to kiss her again, she stopped him with a palm to his chest. “Shit, Jeff. The door. We left it open. Go close it.”
“Too late.”
Both Jeff and Sydney jumped apart at the sound of the unfamiliar voice in the room. Jeff lurched up to his feet and spun around to face the interloper, while Sydney frantically reached for her dress.
Scrambling off the couch, she looked to where the voice had traveled from and saw a tall, devastatingly good-looking man striding over to them in the living room. Despite the situation, Sydney couldn’t help salivating at the sight of that delectable body in worn denims, a black dress shirt, sharp blazer, black boots, and a silver chain with a cross pendant around his neck.
Dirty-blond surfer hair flirted just above his shoulders, tucked messily behind his ears. But it was his eyes that terrified Sydney. They were scarily black, vacant, no sign of life within them, even though he stood before her as a living, breathing male.
Wondering who the hell this man was, and why he was there, Sydney’s heart pounded hard and loud in her chest.
“What the hell are you doing in here, pretty boy?” Jeff demanded, voicing her inner thoughts.
“Wrong question,” the mysterious man said, his voice smooth and slow-paced like motor oil.
Calm as you please, he opened his blazer, pulled out a suppressed gun from his waist, pointed the thing right at Jeff’s forehead, and fired.
Jeff staggered back and dropped sprawled on the couch.
The whole thing happened so smoothly, so quietly, and so easily, that Sydney forgot to scream. Shocked still, she stared open-mouthed at Jeff’s lifeless body, a neat hole in his forehead, not even a drop of blood trickling.
As the reality of what just happened hit her, she began shaking, and she took a step back, opening her mouth to scream bloody murder. But the frightening sight of the gun now pointing right at her mouth made her snap it shut.
“Make a sound and you’ll end up like lover boy there,” Good-Looking Murderer warned. “Don’t make this any messier than it needs to be.”
Sydney nodded her understanding, making sure to remain planted where she was.
Three big, bulky men in black sauntered into the apartment like they owned the place; one carrying a large, red toolbox, and the others carrying electrical equipment. The man with the toolbox stopped, looked at Jeff’s dead body, and then shook his head at Good-Looking Murderer, sending his eyes heavenward.
Good-Looking Murderer shrugged. “Unplanned. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Call Ned for a clean-up. Then go ahead and install the cams.”
Toolbox nodded, pulled out his cellphone and wandered off.
