“I’ll ask you again,” the Wolf said. “Why are you here?”
“I’m not telling you until I know I can trust you.”
He chuckled, a familiar sound. Low and husky, the kind of amused laugh that she’d heard before. Even her body reacted curiously to it, a flush of heat between her legs.
Who was this man?
“You can’t trust me, Little Red. I am the big bad wolf. And I will eat you if given half the chance.”
The way he said eat didn’t sound all that threatening. Instead, it made that heat flare up in Ginger’s core, and she started to squirm beneath his iron-clad grasp, hating this.
“I’ll take my chances then,” she said. “Tell me who you are, and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
“I know why you’re here,” he said. “Augusta sent you. It’s just another day on the job for you. Carrying out your grandmother’s dirty work while she sits at homes and enjoys the fruits of your labor.”
Everything snapped in place. Normally she would try and say something in defense of her grandmother, since she was the only one who tried to love her, the only family she had. But everything this Wolf just said gave his identity away.
He’d always been badgering her about her grandmother, even though her grandmother had hired him on a few occasions. She was as much his employer as she was Ginger’s.
Oscar Barrera.
“Ah, now you see,” he said, his accent becoming familiar again. “I don’t even have to take off my mask.”
Oscar Barrera was a sicario, one of Mexico’s most powerful assassins. Even though he was only in his early thirties, he had quickly risen up the ranks of the cartels, and now worked as a freelancer of sorts. She hadn’t seen Oscar for a few years. The last time they worked together, they were trying to infiltrate a drug ring in Florida. Oscar never needed any help in getting things done, but her grandmother had hired them both because she wanted Ginger to learn. He’d become a teacher more than anything.
The only problem was that Ginger didn’t want to learn from him. Oscar was an elusive man she could never put her finger on. He seemed to enjoy killing, and he had no remorse, at least none that he showed. Whether he was slitting the throat of a kingpin’s wife right in front of her, or shooting someone at point blank range, he was calculated and cool, like nothing would ever faze him. Sometimes she viewed him as a monster, willing to do the worst things for the biggest paycheck.
She didn’t want to be like that. She wanted to keep her humanity, and humility.
She didn’t want to be an assassin.
It’s just that it was becoming more and more part of her job description.
It’s hard to be a thief and a con artist without having to take out a few people along the way.
After all, she was delivering a message on behalf on her grandmother today. That was her only job. She was to come here, get Alfred alone, slip him the poison, and then leave. The lady in red with her trail of death.
But now that was over.
Oscar was here.
Which meant that he was either working for Alfred or…
“Take off your mask,” she said.
Another rumbling chuckle. “To do so would be to let go of you. I am not so foolish.” He paused. “Besides, I like that you can’t see me. Perhaps you’re more afraid of me this way.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she spat out.
But she was lying.
She was afraid of him. She was afraid of becoming like him.
And she was afraid of wanting him.
There were many times in the past she’d caught him looking at her like she was the dessert he couldn’t eat, forbidden and off-limits. She’d sneer at those looks, raise her head high, and act like he was beneath her. A gutsy move for an assassin’s trainee, but even so.
It wasn’t that Oscar was unattractive. He was tall and brooding, thick black hair, these deep-set sexy eyes that turned down at the corners, dark brows that made him look menacing. Mouth wide and expressive, lips full. His face had some scarring from the bad skin of his youth, as well as marks from various weapons. He wasn’t classically handsome, but he had his own brand of dangerous sex appeal.
Of course, with the mask on, she couldn’t see any of that.