King of Crime ✔️

Johann

Agent Saunders was way more of a friendly woman when Samuel was gone. She patiently calmed Diane down and explained in much detail what was going to happen, what we had to do and what the agency would do. She had us fill in some papers, patted on our shoulders and acted nothing like how she treated Samuel.

Maybe it was because she was actually so caring, that she and him didn't get along well. She seemed like quite the emotional person, whereas Samuel didn't really excel in showing those.

When Saunders and her men finally left, having made sure they helped as much as they could, Diane and I went to get dinner. Walking home again, I told her of last night's call with Samuel. She laughed her ass of at me as we stumbled back, stuffing our faces with sushi. 

Before we reached home that we tried to avoid, Diane got a call from Julia, who wanted to talk with her about what happened last night. I saw how relieved my roommate was to hear from her. She literally skipped back. 

When we arrived, she grabbed her bike and called she was probably going to stay at Julia's until late. I followed her with weary eyes, a happy smile lingering on my face.

When I climbed the stairs, muffling the last sushi' s in my mouth, I realized something was wrong. Diane and I left the lights in the hallway off when we left, and we are the only ones on this floor. But right now, the lights were on, lighting our front door, which wasn't closed. 

I swallowed, making myself up for another creepy encounter with someone, and threw open the door. 

I immediately dropped my guard, seeing who it was that intruded our apartment.

"Johann." I spoke, annoyed at myself for getting worked up over nothing. 

The man turned to me with a book in his hand, that he probably picked up from the floor. He smiled, placing the book on the table. It had been a long time since I last saw him in real life, his graying hair, the small wrinkles around his eyes and corners of his mouth betraying that he did, in fact, smile a lot, his sharp nose, and his black stubble. 

I sighed as I reminded myself that the guy may look like a wet dream but was, in fact, a nightmare in disguise.

"Sammy, love."

"What are you doing here?" My eyes scanned the dimly lit room to find the man with the reddish beard standing in the open kitchen, as I closed the door behind me.

"To grieve, with you. While he cleans up." He nodded to his man while pulling two joints out of his wallet. "Let's go to your lovely balcony."

"No way," I resisted sternly. "I can't let him clean up our mess, let alone smoke pot while he's at it. Plus, I have nothing to say to you." 

I crossed my arms over my chest, making him grin even wider.

"You actually do, don' t you?" He opened the glass doors to the balcony. "Come here. I'm worried about what happened today." 

He was? I inspected him. The man never showed any concern, not when I found out about him being a criminal, not when he made me cry that night. All he ever did was grin, like he enjoyed hurting me. A shudder went through me as I felt the heat between my legs accumulate. 

Not now, I groaned in silence. 

Really, the next time I was getting wet from thinking about men hurting me, verbally or physically, I was going to sign up for a masochist-rehab, if that existed. 

I snatched my sweater from the floor and followed Johann outside, covering up my non-existent cleavage and bare shoulders. He had already made himself at home on the couch and patted his hand on the spot next to him. I sat down reluctantly, shivering from the cold evening air, and crossed both my arms and legs.