Thursday, October 4, 2012

Dangerous Proposal by Jessica Lauryn



Dangerous Proposal by Jessica Lauryn

 “I don’t see him.” Alec Westwood, second-born son of Leighton and Elizabeth, had quite possibly found himself—after a considerable amount of effort—in a circumstance too big to handle. And much to his surprise, it hadn’t been as difficult as he’d thought it would be, to get there. At last, he was in the middle of something so daring, so outrageous, even his older brother Colin didn’t have the guts to attempt it.
Colin Westwood, twenty-three-year-old legendary New England scholar and master of nearly every sport known to man, talked a good game. But he wasn’t the one crouched behind a car, holding a loaded gun in the middle of the night.
Everyone else believed the older Westwood brother walked on water, but Alec knew the truth. Colin was nothing but a coward hiding behind a lifetime of vain accomplishments and dumb luck. Tonight he was going to prove once and for all just which one of them was the true hero.
He turned and glanced briefly at his accomplice—moderator perhaps was the more appropriate term. Jake Summers, a guy whose real name would probably always remain a mystery, was crouched directly at his side, far too close for Alec’s liking. But his knees were throbbing so badly from the cold he hardly cared anymore.
He imagined most men in a similar situation would have found themselves intimidated by a man with steel rods for arms and a body that towered nearly two heads above his own. But not him. Nothing scared Alec Westwood. Nothing.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, kid? He’s right there!” Without giving him a chance to reply, Jake took hold of Alec’s chin, twisting it so that it pointed directly toward the man coming up the block opposite them.
Alec grunted, wriggling himself free. He knew his statement had sounded weak, but he didn’t need this much of a clarification.
Had they been anywhere else, it might have been difficult to decipher the target’s features. The well-lit streets of Manhattan didn’t allow it. With sandy-brown hair and a long black overcoat, it was easy to spot the man he’d been assigned to kill. Every detail of his description had been provided, right down to the lines around his mouth.
Good. First part accomplished. If nothing else, the man had been easy to find. But was that really such a good thing?
That night at Club Edge, everything had sounded so…easy. Signing on for a thrill had seemed like the perfect way to make his mark on the world, with very little effort.
Only now, staring intensely at the target, a man similar in age and stature to his own father, Alec found himself hesitating. As the man crept closer, wisps of gray that had settled amid his aging hair came into the light. He swallowed. Just how ingenious was this plan of his, anyway?
It wasn’t as if he was afraid to fire a gun. God knew he’d worked himself through the nonsensical anxiety of that before uttering one word to those guys at the club. He was more than ready to prove his bravery to the world. Knocking off a man whose life meant nothing in the grand scheme of things should have been no big deal. But for some oddly disturbing reason, it was.
His breath formed a cloud in the raw night air. He turned to Jake. “I don’t think I can get a good shot from here. If I miss, we’ll both get caught. It’s stupid for us to be together like this. Kinda obvious, don’t ya think?”
With a look that threatened death, Alec’s monster of an enforcer leaned in and snatched him by the collar, forcing him to look into his cold, bloodshot eyes. “You got some kinda James Bond complex, kid? I’m givin’ the orders here. Shoot the damn gun!”
Finding himself released, Alec stumbled back onto the pavement. He cleared his throat and resumed his position. If Jake was trying to scare him, the guy was going to have one hell of a frustrating time of it. Nothing, not even the realization that he was about to commit murder phased him in the slightest. Besides, these men needed him. When it came to battle plans, no one was better at strategy than he was.
No, he hadn’t come out there to get pushed around. That man was getting shot on his watch. Whenever and wherever he believed it should be done, as quickly and easily as possible. That was, after all, what they’d hired him to do, was it not? To get the job done? Without getting caught? It wasn’t worth spending twenty years in jail over. Not even close.
“I will,” he said firmly. “But it shouldn’t be done from here. Just let me get to the other side of the street. I know I can get a better shot. Trust me.”
Author Jessica Lauryn
Alec smiled that confident smile he did so well and silently applauded himself for another fine choice of words. ‘Trust’ was a word that held little meaning for him, but he threw it around often when it suited his purpose. It was much easier to get people to do what you wanted when they trusted you. Some, like Jake, were harder to work than others. But with the correct amount of persuasion, anyone could be convinced of anything. Anyone but himself, of course. He trusted no one.
“Damn it, Allan, if you don’t lower your voice, you’ll be the boss’s next target. You were hired to do a job. Do it!”
Alec bit his lip. He did his best, but it was hard to keep from laughing as the jackass referred to him by what he assumed was his name. James Allan had rolled so easily off his tongue at the moment of introduction that he deserved an Academy Award.
“I’m as anxious to have this task completed as you are, Jake. But I’m not doing it from here. Look, he’s over by the pay phone now. I’ll have plenty of time to get over there before he gets in the car.”
“You’d better pray to God you’re right, kid. Cause if that man’s not dead in two minutes, you will be.”
Whatever, Alec thought. He got to his feet and peered over the top of the car. In spite of the darkness, he could see that the pay phone on the other side of the street remained a good distance away. The target was facing the opposite direction, meaning if he could get close enough, he could kill the guy without making a scene. Likely, the man wouldn’t even realize what had happened until it was too late. More importantly, neither would anyone else.
He walked quickly up the block and crossed the street, discovering, much to his relief, a familiar black Mercedes. Right on time. Of course, there was no reason to back out just yet. But it was reassuring to know that there was a back-up plan in motion.
Alec started up the next block just as the man was hanging up the phone. He froze in place as the target turned around. And looked directly at him.
Heart thudding against his rib cage, Alec reached into his pocket. He went for his wallet, shifting it strategically as he did so. The black leather case hit the ground with a light thud. Bending as if to pick it up, he crouched between two parked cars. He took a couple of deep breaths and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. He sure hoped Jake hadn’t seen any of that. Cause if he had, the bastard knew he’d all but blown his cover.
With trembling hands, Alec took the cold, metal pistol from his pocket. One eye on the target, the other on Jake, he became suddenly, horrifyingly aware that he wasn’t the only one holding a lethal weapon. Apparently his so-called accomplice had a gun of his own. And it was aimed directly at his head.
To someone who hadn’t been prepared, the pistol’s nose might have been hard to detect. But Alec had been expecting this for some time. Get the assassin to do the dirty work and then silence him forever—even he had to admit it was a brilliant plan. But unfortunately for their sakes, he was ten steps ahead of these guys.
He shoved the gun into his pocket. Then he crawled up the sidewalk, using the parked cars for cover. When he reached the Mercedes, he sprang to his feet just long enough to take one giant leap. He threw himself into the backseat and slammed the door shut. Dropping to the floor, he tossed his arms over his head as the window behind him shattered to pieces.
The tires screeched as the car surged through a red light. Alec shook the broken glass from his jacket.
“Rough night?”



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