We didn’t exchange any details about each other. And it’s not like one of us is holding a single rose or something stupid like that from the movies.
I’m dressed in a slim navy blue dress and heels. I look like any other woman headed to work in the city. He’s not going to be able to find me. I’m going to have to be the one to find him.
I walk confidently through the throng of people gathered around the too-small tables. Most people are chatting in a group—those I can rule out. There are a few on their laptops—I rule them out as well. I don’t see a single person on their own.
I sigh as I sip my coffee. I’ll walk through the room one more time, and if I don’t find him, I’ll have to put out a new call for a hitman. I’m not going to deal with a man being late.
Suddenly, goosebumps form down my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and all of the air squeezes from my lungs. I don’t have to turn around to know who is standing behind me.
This can’t be a coincidence. I haven’t seen him in seven, or is it eight months? He doesn’t live here. He saw my call for a hitman, and he answered it. And I have no doubt he knew exactly who he was answering. I used the nickname that only he calls me.
“Huntress,” Langston says, sending shivers racing through my body.
I try not to react. Only Langston has the ability to turn my body on end. To make me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. And not all of those feelings are good.
“Killer,” I say in a raspy voice, using the nickname I gave for him when we were kids, after I learned that he had killed a deer hunting. If I had only known then that he kills a lot more than deer…
The flame that burns intensifies as we let it simmer between us. We both relish the feeling, even though we will never do a thing about it. An electric energy between two people doesn’t mean that we belong together. In fact, I think it means we should stay as far away from each other as possible. If we light a match near our smoldering fire, we will burn the entire world to the ground.
I turn around, hoping that I’m in complete control. That I look confident, poised, and completely unaffected. But when I look at Langston, it’s not what I expect. He’s wearing a suit. He never wears a suit.
It fits him well, which means he owns it and isn’t renting it. It’s a dark gray color with a white shirt opened at the collar, exposing his delicious sculpted chest. It also hides the muscles and scars underneath, which tell the story of the dangerous life Langston leads.
He doesn’t look like a gangster, a devil, a killer. Instead, he looks like a businessman meeting a client for coffee.
“This is a new look for you,” I say, my eyes purposefully trailing down his suit instead of staring at the harsh edges of his jaw and blue depths of his eyes that I’ll get lost in if I stare too long.
“This is the same look for you,” he says. His voice gives nothing away, but it’s meant to be a compliment. He’s always liked the way I look—neat, tidy, polished with just a hint of womanly curves.
“Shall we sit, or should we just agree this isn’t going to work and go on with our separate lives?” I ask, lifting my cup to my lips, daring him to be the one to decide if he wants to take this meeting further. I don’t want him to go, and I know he won’t. He wouldn’t have come all the way from Miami to meet me in New York City for coffee if he wasn’t going to stay and talk to me.
The edge of his lip lifts, reminding me of the playful boy I used to know as a kid before the world darkened him and turned him into a monster that I barely even recognize. And then he walks past me. For a moment, I think he’s leaving, but he walks to a small table in the corner where a couple of college-aged boys are laughing with two empty coffee cups.
“Time to leave, boys,” Langston says, his voice low and deep, full of a harsh threat if they stay.
I don’t have to be a fortune teller to know the boys will get up without protest. I know the look that Langston is giving them, I’ve heard the voice. No one denies him when he uses it. His voice alone holds that kind of power, which makes it all the more shocking that he doesn’t use it to rule his own empire. Instead, he follows others’ orders.
Langston pulls out a chair for me to sit.
I won’t sit in it. He already knows this, which is why he gives me a smug knowing smile when I sit in the opposite chair. He takes his seat as well, and we both place our cups of coffee on the table.
“So, my little huntress is going to finally make a kill?” Langston asks.
“I guess that means we aren’t going to small talk first.” I cross my legs, purposefully pushing the hem on my dress higher up my thigh.
Langston’s eyes flick down to my legs before meeting my gaze again. “I’d rather get right to the point than play games with you.”
I smile. “We never play games with each other, killer. We just lie.”
The disappointed frown Langston gives me affects me more than I want to admit.
“Yes, I plan on killing someone,” I finally say.
“Who?”
“Does it matter?”
Langston shrugs. “Not really, but it’s not like you to actually kill a man. You hunt them down, you track them, but you never do the killing. Never get your pretty little hands dirty.”
“No, that’s your job.”
“So did you change your mind? Am I the one who is going to do the killing?”
I shake my head. “This one’s mine.”
His eyes narrow into tight slits as he stares deep into mine. There was a time where we could both read each other with one look. That time has long passed. He has no idea what’s going on behind my hazel eyes. No idea what I’m hiding beneath the mask of makeup, curled blonde hair, and tight dress.
“Why?” he asks when he can’t find the answer on his own.
I lift my coffee to my lips, avoiding giving him an answer.
“Tell me the truth. Why did you come when you knew it was me who sought a killer?” I ask.
“Now, why would I do that? We never tell each other the truth,” Langston says, his voice angry and sultry as he throws my words back at me. It might be the only truth we ever tell each other.
I toss my hair over my shoulder. “This was a mistake. I’ll find someone else.”
Langston leans back in his chair. If I got up and ran out, I know he wouldn’t chase me.
We never chase.
We don’t play games.
We just lie. And lie and lie.
It’s the only thing I can count on when it comes to us.
“No, you won’t,” Langston says.
I frown, my eyes flitting back and forth over his, trying to figure out the hidden meaning.
“I will. I don’t need you.”
“It’s me or no one.” His blue eyes shine brightly. He knows he has me cornered. And he’s about to go in for the kill.
“I’ll make sure that every man knows that you’re mine. That you are tied to the Black name.”
I grip my coffee cup tighter but don’t show any other outward signs of my anger. “Always using the Black name instead of your own.”
“The Black name is my own.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, drawing his attention to my mouth. “Just another lie. You can pretend that it doesn’t matter that you aren’t Enzo’s brother by blood, but it matters. He has a real brother now. He has another best friend. You are nothing but a disposable soldier to him.”