9
The scaffolding shook violently as a gust of wind swept past me. The metal rails banged against each other as the strong winds continued to surround me. The back of my heels dangled off the edge of the wooden plank. One strong gust and I would have fallen, but I had to see my Dalia. The tips of my fingers pressed against the cold window to aid in my balance. She stood on the side of her bed, grabbing her long tresses as she pulled them through the elastic band stretched across her fingers.
The green dress slid down her soft skin onto the carpet. Freckles coated her shoulders, and they reminded me of tiny jewels specifically placed on her skin. Ms. Thompson had the same freckles in the same spot. Her pale, freckled coated skin, soft curves, large breast, and sunset red hair made me a magnet towards her. Her hands wrapped around, and her fingers twiddled with her bra straps. Her tear-shaped breast bounced out of her bra, and my cock twitched. Her berry-colored nipples looked familiar, and my cock throbbed as a drip of saliva escaped my lips.
The ache in my jeans vanished as soon as I laid eyes on her worthless boyfriend, Scott. He had a robe wrapped around his beefy body. He stood on the other side of the bed, staring at her like a piece of meat. Then the robe dropped, and there he stood naked with an erect cock pointed at the love of my life. If I could kill him, I would have already. I knew I wouldn’t get caught. I had over ten years of Black Ops military training under my belt. I would have kidnapped him, thrown him in the back of my trunk, and drove to Benji, Minnesota, to dispose of his body in a frozen lake. It would have been easy, a simple kill, but I knew it would have cost more harm than good. Dalia had a soft spot for him, even though he was a complete prick.
Bile bubbled in my gut, and my shoulders slumped forward as I dry heaved to the sight of him. His thick fingers stroked his cock as he licked his lips. She didn’t want to do it; I could tell by the look in her eyes. She felt guilty because Scott had to leave the gym to attend to a non-emergency matter, which was bullshit. I never left her side. I waited in my car until she re-appeared and then followed her taxi home. My heart broke as I watched the tears fall down her cheeks. I couldn’t hear her conversation, but I knew it had everything to do with Scott.
Anyone who made my Dalia cry didn’t deserve to live, but I had to abide by the code. Black Ops soldiers were to never use their specialized training for personal use or to harm others. Killing Scott would cause harm to Dalia because she would mourn him. I let the hot air from my breath fog the window. Scott spread his legs wide as he laid on the bed. I knew he was about to get his dick sucked, just thinking about it infuriated me. The thought of her warm lips wrapped around his disgusting cock made my skin crawl.
My phone buzzed in my jacket; the blue screen lit up when I pulled it out of my pocket.
Trevor: You’re just gonna let him die? Is that what you want? The treatments aren’t working anymore. This might be it.
Me: Fine with me.
The air turned colder, and I didn’t know how long I could continue to stand on this old scaffolding tower before falling through. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and slid my eyes back to the window. Dalia’s head bobbed up and down as she sucked Scott’s dick. His hips bucked with each pass. I needed to get rid of him. As long as he was around, I wouldn’t be able to get close to Dalia. The alarm sounded on my phone, reminding me I had a late-night job to complete in the next couple of hours. The scaffolding rattled as I climbed down, and a pile of rocks caught my attention. The sweet sound of Scott’s voice spewing every curse word in the book was music to my ears. Asshole.
“Welcome to Good Fitness,” a blonde woman said from behind the counter. The fitness center reeked of wannabe athletic men. It smelled like sweat, antibacterial cleaner, and over-inflated egos. Loud grunts from men with torn sleeves and clinched teeth competed with the tech music that blared through the speakers above.
“Um, I’m here for a training session with Scott.” The keyboard clicked as her fingers ran across them.
“Oh, you must be Kevin?”
“Yes,” I said, giving her a soft smile. I had every intention of ruining Scott’s life. He didn’t deserve to have Dalia, and taking her from him was the first step in pissing him off.
“Great, I’ll let him know you’re here.” Her blond hair bobbed against her shoulders as she pranced away.
I turned to face the large windows that overlooked downtown Lincoln Square. A row of men powered through sets as grunts dripped from their tongues. Their posture was wrong, and they curled their thumbs away from the handles instead of underneath. Their feet were too far apart, and their breathing rapid. I would have thought for three-hundred dollars a year; they would have at least showed them proper formation. I pulled a pill out of my pocket and tossed it back. It scraped against the back of my throat as I swallowed.
“Kevin?” a voice said from behind. I turned to find a short man with a shiny bald head and cold blue eyes staring back at me. He looked worse than his picture. He stretched his hand out towards me. I wanted to grab it and pull him into a headlock, but I couldn’t. I had to remain civil for Dalia’s sake.
“That’s me.” His eyes scanned my hard chest and buff arms. I was bigger than him; shit, I was fucking better than him. I extended my hand and forced a smile across my face.
He swallowed hard, his eyes still fixated on me. “You don’t look like you need a trainer,” a nervous chuckle escaped his lips.
“Hey, sometimes you need someone to be on your ass, so you don’t slide backward.”
“Man, that shits real. So, are you ready to get lifting?” I nodded in agreement, and he walked me towards the locker rooms.
I pulled my phone out as I walked behind him. My thumbs shuffled through the apps until I landed at the voice recorder. I needed to make Scott trust me so that I could ruin him and have Dalia all to myself.