The Short Stories of Harry Styles

The Assignment: Part 4

In my training, the element of surprise is something you have to master. You have to be able to think five steps ahead of your target.

That is why without a single ounce of hesitation, when Harry's green eyes fluttered open and focused on me, I was already hopping on top of him with my leather gloved hands wrapped around his pretty neck.

His muscular body thrashed and bucked underneath mine as I clamped down just enough for him to lose air supply. He reached for my mask to try to rip it off but I brought one of my boots down on his left arm to keep it away from me while I leaned back from his right that was still frantically grasping at the empty space in front of my face.

Sleep Harry...just go to sleep.

The emerald eyed beauty beneath me began to take short gasps as his body starved for oxygen, his face becoming a violent shade of red, blue veins sprouting along his forehead and neck making his eye color stand out more in the moonlight while his dark hair stuck to the sweat forming along his neck from stress, and then with a final roll of his eyes, his eyelids shut.

Releasing my hold around his neck slowly, I checked his pulse to find it still thrumming softly in the crevice between his jaw and neck. I let out a small sigh and dropped my shoulders before tilting my head left and right to crack the tension out of my neck.

In my training, the element of surprise is something you have to master. You have to always be able to think five steps ahead of your target.

I had not anticipated Harry to be a very good actor.

I was suddenly thrown across the room, my back slamming against the far wall making his television shake, while my vision slightly blurred from the brunt force of the impact. I blinked quickly, my goggles refocusing as Harry, standing shirtless with only his plaid pajama pants hanging deliciously low on his hips, began to pull something out from behind his back.

I pulled myself to standing at the same moment I pulled my gun out from it's holster at my hip not once taking my eyes off of my assignment as he withdrew a handgun from seemingly nowhere.

He could not see the look on my face but...if I could feel surprise...my face would surely show it.

We stood there, in a stand off, unmoving as I assessed the damage.

This was the second time I had underestimated Harry Styles.

"You can't have it." His voice crackled into the silence, his hand holding the gun unwavering, as he stared at me. I began to calculate.

If I shoot him in the leg, he won't die but it will give me a chance to grab the key.

"It's not here." My body went rigid.

No.

Keeping my gun trained on him, I began to slowly move my other hand to grab the silencer I would need to attach so that we didn't draw attention to ourselves if things went awry.

"Uh uh. Hand back up."

Begrudgingly, I brought my hand back up to hold my gun out in front of me as I slowly side stepped to get better access to his bedroom. His eyes dropped down to the movement of my legs and then back up to my covered face.

"I already told you, s'not here. I moved it."

There's no way. I watched him for eight straight days. He never left.

Unless.

"The day you were here in my apartment is the day I moved it. I gotta say, I expected more from one of Don's henchmen."