Operation: One percent

Chapter 8

Margaret

Observing my face with bemusement, I finally got to see his eyes close up. Stormy,  beautifully framed with long eyelashes, only more enhanced by the ray of sunset passing through them. Three o clock shadow on his beard was giving an unfair tug at my emotions.

His stupidly bewitching perfume fortified an already forcefully set spot in my core, forever bonding itself to my amygdala. 

The intensity of his gaze was too much to bear,  and I didn't even realize that it was sunset already.

"Nice reflexes. Perhaps I should hire you to be my bodyguard instead?" He asked with a low chuckle at the end.

Neither of us were pulling back our hands for several seconds. He seemed genuinely impressed by the way his eyebrows were raised as his eyes remained lit up. 

"Thanks,  but I am pretty sure you got it covered."

Finally, I let go and bid him farewell. 

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What.the.fuck.was.that?

How can someone be so infuriating? 

What was I even thinking? How could I possibly think that getting closer to him was a good idea? 

Staring at the vanilla-colored ceiling of my one-room apartment, unsettling thoughts were intruding into my head. I have already gotten rid of 3 of his subordinates, and 2 of the government officials ones. Out of those 5, 4 were killed by me putting poison in their drinks while they were not careful, and 1 was rather specific. He never drank or ate outside, but he did have a relentless gambling habit. All it took for me, a pretent-part-time waitress in a casino then, was to accuse him of cheating while he was gambling with a notorious Sharp leaf mafia. And indeed, I did slip a small bug into his pocket, making him appear as though he was receiving tip-offs. In a way, they did my job for me. Needless to say, I got an amazing tip that night from those guys. Police never searched for me, nor did the news ever report on their deaths. Probably because they wanted it all covered up. 

That all being said, Ace is the most terrifying of them all. He had top-notch reflexes, and whatever opening I looked for, he had it guarded somehow. He did smoke, but never outside of the office building, so putting things into his tobacco was not possible. In the bar, he would usually go to private lodging, which I couldn't even sniff at. And don't even get me started on the fortress that is his apartment building.

And no matter my disguise, I somehow always got the feeling he will see right through me.

It's simply impossible. 

I turned on the TV for it to shift my attention to somewhere else, as I knew I need to give him up so I took out my device to resign this case, but then I saw the penalty fee. 

1 million credits. 

And to make matters worse, the deadline was set at one month. Someone was in a hurry to get rid of Ace. I wanted to throw my device into the wall and smash it, but instead, I just punched into my mattress and laid back in resignation. 

Taking out Maryam's drawing, I put it in front of me. All I had left of her was this drawing,  and melancholy, an uninvited guest, filled the room. Tracing the lines of the pink house, and two figures that she drew holding hands each in a pretty dress, one in yellow and one in green, I imagined she was here next to me. When it came to this drawing, each time I had something new to see. Either the bird's flock was secretly shaped into our initials, or the grass strands were forming the date of the drawing. She was that smart.

A single tear stung my eye, betraying me in the darkness. The imagination of her presence was something I avoided, simply because it made me more resentful, and angry. 

All those stolen years. Happiness, taken away. 

"Did you know, three kinds of people who never give up?" I asked the smaller of two figures as if it can answer. 

"Brave ones, dumb ones...."I got up with a newfound determination, tucking the drawing into my pocket, and popping two antidepressants into my mouth.

"And really, really, pissed-off ones."