Flight 12: A Sloane Monroe Thriller (Flight 12 Begins Series Book 4) by Cheryl Bradshaw Page B
Authors: Cheryl Bradshaw
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worth it. Worth every copper-colored penny.
Seductive vixen wasn’t a role Rachel thought she’d ever play, but being hard up for cash opened all kinds of previously-closed windows. When the woman who hired her fanned ten large in front of her face, saying no wasn’t an option. The money was too hard to resist. Besides, when she was all done up, she had the look Rocco was attracted to and the body to match. Not only was she good, she played the role of doting mistress so well, a small part of her had actually fallen for Rocco’s charms. On the outside, he was intelligent, collected. On the inside, sensitive and warm. At times it was hard for her to see him for who he really was—a cold-blooded killer.
Rachel gazed out of the bedroom window, reflected on the first time she met Rocco a few months before. She’d sat at a table across from him at La Vita e Bella, an Italian restaurant he frequented. After tailing him for three weeks, she’d learned his habits, his likes, his dislikes—anything and everything she needed to know so she could nail him to the wall when the moment was right. There was a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus in it for her when she did, and she wasn’t about to let anything screw it up, not even her feelings for the guy.
Rocco had taken to Rachel quickly that first night, striking up a conversation before inviting her to dine at his table. Rachel chose her words carefully, inserting a few shared interests into the conversation, things to reel him in, get him interested. Within thirty minutes, he was hooked.
Two months later, Rachel almost had what she wanted. In the living room of his house, Rocco had dropped his guard and engaged in a private conversation with his underboss and consigliere in front of her. He’d glanced across the room when Rachel walked in and smiled, confident she wasn’t smart enough to decode what he was actually saying.
He was wrong.
So wrong.
All she needed now was one last night, and it would all be over.
The clothes.
The attention.
The parties.
The sex.
Rocco.
The sound of Rachel’s phone vibrating on the nightstand brought her back to the present moment, as if jolting her from a moment of tranquil meditation. She glanced at the name on the Caller ID. Rocco.
“Thank you for my present,” she said.
“Did you put it on?”
“I’m wearing it now. It fits perfectly. All that’s missing is you to take it off of me.”
“I have one last stop to make, and I’m all yours, baby.”
“Three days without seeing each other is three days too long,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
“I had other things to attend to or I would have seen you sooner.”
Calm. Cool. Collected. Always in control.
“Other things like your wife?”
Her sharp words cut through the air like needles seeking out a target. It was too much. Too brazen. She knew it. She also no longer cared.
“Trust me, even when I am with her, the only woman I’m thinking of is you.”
He always had a way with words. A perfect way. For a moment, Rachel felt bad for his wife. Almost.
“I had something else delivered,” he continued. “Did you find it?”
Rachel canvassed the room. “Where?”
“Look in the kitchen.”
Rachel combed a hand through her long, ash-blond hair, walked into the next room. “I’m here.”
“Do you see it?”
“The wine?”
“I bought it special, just for tonight. Try it.”
“I’d rather wait for you,” she said. “Try it together.”
“If you like it, I’ll order more.”
Rachel grabbed the bottle, stalled for a time, then said, “It’s wonderful. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“Good. Have another glass. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The call ended, leaving Rachel with a sense of uneasiness she hadn’t experienced with Rocco before. Up to now, she felt confident about every move she’d made. Tonight, on the phone, something was off. His voice. It was different. Still in charge, in command, but
Seductive vixen wasn’t a role Rachel thought she’d ever play, but being hard up for cash opened all kinds of previously-closed windows. When the woman who hired her fanned ten large in front of her face, saying no wasn’t an option. The money was too hard to resist. Besides, when she was all done up, she had the look Rocco was attracted to and the body to match. Not only was she good, she played the role of doting mistress so well, a small part of her had actually fallen for Rocco’s charms. On the outside, he was intelligent, collected. On the inside, sensitive and warm. At times it was hard for her to see him for who he really was—a cold-blooded killer.
Rachel gazed out of the bedroom window, reflected on the first time she met Rocco a few months before. She’d sat at a table across from him at La Vita e Bella, an Italian restaurant he frequented. After tailing him for three weeks, she’d learned his habits, his likes, his dislikes—anything and everything she needed to know so she could nail him to the wall when the moment was right. There was a twenty-five-thousand-dollar bonus in it for her when she did, and she wasn’t about to let anything screw it up, not even her feelings for the guy.
Rocco had taken to Rachel quickly that first night, striking up a conversation before inviting her to dine at his table. Rachel chose her words carefully, inserting a few shared interests into the conversation, things to reel him in, get him interested. Within thirty minutes, he was hooked.
Two months later, Rachel almost had what she wanted. In the living room of his house, Rocco had dropped his guard and engaged in a private conversation with his underboss and consigliere in front of her. He’d glanced across the room when Rachel walked in and smiled, confident she wasn’t smart enough to decode what he was actually saying.
He was wrong.
So wrong.
All she needed now was one last night, and it would all be over.
The clothes.
The attention.
The parties.
The sex.
Rocco.
The sound of Rachel’s phone vibrating on the nightstand brought her back to the present moment, as if jolting her from a moment of tranquil meditation. She glanced at the name on the Caller ID. Rocco.
“Thank you for my present,” she said.
“Did you put it on?”
“I’m wearing it now. It fits perfectly. All that’s missing is you to take it off of me.”
“I have one last stop to make, and I’m all yours, baby.”
“Three days without seeing each other is three days too long,” she said. “I’ve missed you.”
“I had other things to attend to or I would have seen you sooner.”
Calm. Cool. Collected. Always in control.
“Other things like your wife?”
Her sharp words cut through the air like needles seeking out a target. It was too much. Too brazen. She knew it. She also no longer cared.
“Trust me, even when I am with her, the only woman I’m thinking of is you.”
He always had a way with words. A perfect way. For a moment, Rachel felt bad for his wife. Almost.
“I had something else delivered,” he continued. “Did you find it?”
Rachel canvassed the room. “Where?”
“Look in the kitchen.”
Rachel combed a hand through her long, ash-blond hair, walked into the next room. “I’m here.”
“Do you see it?”
“The wine?”
“I bought it special, just for tonight. Try it.”
“I’d rather wait for you,” she said. “Try it together.”
“If you like it, I’ll order more.”
Rachel grabbed the bottle, stalled for a time, then said, “It’s wonderful. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“Good. Have another glass. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The call ended, leaving Rachel with a sense of uneasiness she hadn’t experienced with Rocco before. Up to now, she felt confident about every move she’d made. Tonight, on the phone, something was off. His voice. It was different. Still in charge, in command, but
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