Rule number four; fuck it.
I watch her from the shadows, the gun tucked into my pants warming. Her head falls back, hands tracing the contours of her hips as she dances between the swaying crowd.
A body passes her, the man saying something softly and dropping off a drink before continuing on.
She twists in the spot, her face glowing as she faces my way completely.
"What do we know about her?" I murmur, so quietly my lips hardly move. I bring my fingers to my jaw as I glance to the side, away from her gaze.
A rustle echoes across the line.
"Agent Eleven," Clay begins, the words quiet but with an edge of gruffness. "Twenty-seven," He says, no doubt reading from the file.
Her fingers delve into her hair, rustling the blonde locks, dark eyes gleaming under the dim lights.
"What's her name?"
There's a clearing of a throat, "It's been blacked out."
"Her family?"
"Only her cousins and uncle are listed."
I tilt my head back, gaze pinned to her, analysing her. My eyes drift down her figure before I force them back to those captivatingly dark eyes as Clay continues.
"Started at the Division age fourteen and graduated at age twenty and went straight into the field. Seventy-nine completed missions until she dropped from the radar a little under a year ago."
"Do we know why?" I mutter, beginning to form a plan.
"No information. She specialises in combat, poison, seduction-"
"She could step on me, and I would say thank you." The words erupt out of nowhere and a grin stretches my lips before I reign it in.
"Liam-" Cleo starts,
I clear my throat, bringing their attention back to the situation at hand.
"She-", He pauses, and I lift my hand, subtly pressing the comm further into my ear.
"She?" I press,
"There's not much information on her. She graduated as an assassin and after that the information is scarce. It's like someone has gone through her file and swept it clean of almost everything."
I furrow my brows; my gaze stuck on her.
"What did your father say?" I ask Clay.
"Nothing. Said everything we needed to know was in the file. And yet nothing is in there that will help us."
"Maybe-"
I move out of the way as two drunk women stumble into my path, my focus jumping to them and away from the conversation between my teammates.
The shadows disappear as I step away from the wall and reach for my comm, slipping it from my ear and into my pocket.
I join the dancing crowd, burnt honeyed eyes locking onto me swiftly.
I drag my eyes down her form appreciatively before flashing a swift grin her way.
Ignoring her saccharine smile, I head for the bar, rolling up my long sleeves as I do, exposing the network of scars and tattoos accompanying my forearms.
I glance subtly over my shoulder as I move out of the way of a stumbling couple, feeling those curious eyes on me.
I grin to myself, jaw flexing before reaching the bar and leaning my elbows on it. I nod swiftly to the bartender, holding up a finger as I mouth the word 'scotch' over the growing chatter.
He turns to make my drink as I scan the rest of the bodies packed into the dive bar, scanning the entry and exit points before my eyes land on the door at the back of the bar leading elsewhere.
I dismiss it and turn back as the drink is dropped in front of me, condensation already rolling down the glass from the humid temperature.
I start to reach into my pocket when the shaggy blonde shakes his head, smirking at me before pointing over my shoulder. "On the house."
I furrow my brows, turning behind me.
My brows raise and I nod my head in thanks as our target struts behind the bar. I follow her with my eyes as she smiles secretly and leans on the counter directly across from me.
I bring the drink to my lips, taking a sip before placing it gently on the counter once more.
"Thanks." I murmur roughly, a husky quality to my voice before I clear it.
"You don't need to thank me." The Rogue Assassin hushes, slim fingers wrapping around the glass and bringing it to her lips.
My eyes track the condensation droplets on her fingers, the liquor that wets her lips as she hands the drink back.
I smirk slightly, wrapping my fingers around hers before she can fully let go of the glass and bring it to my lips, I lean across the bar, my hazel eyes connected to her brown ones as I tilt my head tauntingly, "How about a dance?"
Her lips lift slowly, chin dipping slightly as she leans forward.
"I could be persuaded."
I track her movements with my eyes, the way her throat bobs as she swallows softly, lips twitching quickly.
I glance away, back to her eyes and smirk.
Pushing myself off the bar stool and dip my chin to her, my smirk widening as I slowly trace the contours of her body with my eyes before meeting hers. My gaze heated.
"I've been told I can be quite persuasive when I want to be."
Her calculating eyes shine as she straightens, tilting her head before she leans over the bar. She lets her gaze linger down my body, "And this is you being persuasive?"
I grin, chuckling huskily before leaning over the bar so my face is centimetres from hers and murmur, "Dance with me and we'll see what happens next."
She doesn't move back, lifting a brow in amusement. "I have to admit I'm tempted."
I hold out my hand, waiting. "Then fall into temptation with me?"
She stares silently at me before placing her hand in mine, letting me lead her around the bar to the dance floor.
My fingers tighten around hers as I pull her with me into the swaying crowd, the music seeming to grow louder.
"What's your name?" I implore, looking back at her as the crowd grows dense.
She stops me with a hand on my chest, "That's a personal question."
I grin, lifting a brow. "Your name?"
She ignores me. "I don't do personal."
"What do you do?"
She smirks, "You, if you play your cards right."
I chuckle roughly, my hands settling on her hips. I pull her into me, my lips skimming the shell of her ear. "And what game are we playing?"
She pulls back, tracing my face, "My game, if you're willing."
"What are the rules?" I murmur, dragging her hair away from her neck as I pull her body further into mine.
She laughs softly, pulling back and tilting her head. "There are no rules."
I look down at her, my hand lifting as I take her chin in my hand, bringing my lips closer to hers. "Don't tempt me." I whisper against her lips.
"Too late." She whispers back, pressing her lips just slightly against mine before grabbing my hand.
She turns, my hand in hers as she drags us away from the dancers and towards the door behind the bar.
"You should really take me on a date first." I mutter lowly, my hand skimming her hip as I pull her body closer to mine as we pass the bar.
She glances over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "I tend to like desert before dinner." She says, huskily.
My hands tighten on her body in acceptance.
One of the bartenders tilts his head at her as we walks through towards the door I'd noticed earlier, brow raised. "If you need something," She starts, "don't."
He salutes, wagging his eyebrows briefly before turning away.
I let her lead me the rest of the way towards the door, my mind analysing everything.
• Question Of The Chapter •
Who is your comfort character? (book, movie, T show, cartoon or other)