The Innocent Target

Chapter Seven

She was quiet. Her eyes as if reading the clouds outside as the jet floated still, with no turbulence. There had been some earlier and her fingers dug in her chair's arm rests and eyes shut so tight, he feared they might melt shut forever. Apparently, she didn't like flying, probably because she never flew once in her life. He'd taken the chair opposite hers, while Noah sat in the other pair, busy in his laptop. He sat only watching her and by the way she'd brought her legs up and scrunched them under her thighs, he could tell she was uncomfortable to be watched that way.

Why had he boarded a plane he was refusing to take? Because of her.

He'd seen scared girls before. Of course, he'd been saving them for high end families. He'd never kidnapped a girl before. He truly didn't know why he was getting this girl but he wanted to know. What was so special about this one that Rabossa sent a jet to New York to collect her. She was spot on when she said that he was a contract killer. On a regular day, he shot assholes from miles. Once given a name, he researched and then under a week, job done and over. His victims, he'd never have any contact with. He'd do his job and move on after collecting his money.

Now, being in this jet, watching the girl scrunched in front of him told him exactly why he refrained from contacting his victims. The connections. He hated them. This girl sure was trying hard to get out. Fighting. Begging and even flirting to turn men into putty. Noah was highly skilled killer. He had a record, just a little shorter than Vincent's but he was a sharp shooter and his best choice of weapon was a dagger. He could throw one, strong enough to stab in the eye with precision. He knew because he'd seen him do so.

Though a killer, Noah had never targeted a woman. Never in his entire eight years of this job. He'd always attacked men and always refused to target woman, even if they were most awful bitches of the world or a rescue. He was here, only for Vincent. He was helping because Vincent was a man of kidnapping either. Not ladies at least. Not innocents. Once Vincent had figured that Odette Eliot was nothing but your everyday innocent accountant, he'd asked Noah to dig in deeper. Figure out her bank statements, her origin, her background from two generations over, to see if she fit the bill to any of the motherfuckers that Rabossa wanted dead. They'd found nothing.

That's why Noah had volunteered to step in. He wanted to know why Rabossa wanted her as well and now, with the unlimited number of questions and daggers Odette had been throwing at him, had him intrigued in figuring out why he was making this transfer. Her eyes started drooping and his head tilted as he watched her fall asleep on the back rest. As she started falling to the window, he sighed standing and walking around her chair. Using the button on the side, he made it decline back to let her better. Throwing the blanket on her, he went to his seat and dropped his head back as well.

Noah stared at him with a grin and he rolled his eyes while shaking his head.

When his watch struck three, he realized she hadn't eaten anything. Technically she did but threw it all up before getting in the jet. He asked the air hostess to prepare some food and when she brought a steak and mashed potatoes with steamed vegetables, he called for her. No answer.

Noah released a breath, getting up and sitting beside her on the floor.

"Odette." He spoke softly and she hummed, opening her eyes with little blinks. He was confused as to why she smiled, finding Noah in front of her, "Hi." He murmured.

"Hi." She spoke lowly.

"Come on. Have some lunch." He raised a hand. She took it gently and he started reclining the back rest of her seat. She blinked lazily at the food and then at him.

"I'm not hungry." She mumbled.

"Look, you'll have no strength when you get there. It's best if you have some in your bones." He spoke, still sitting on his toes and her still holding his hand. She ran a hand through her hair and licks her lips, "And, I make a mean margarita, slush or rocks." He winked. She smiled, her cheeks turning red.