His Saving Grace

The house was dark, not that I expected anything less. I didn't bother turning on the lights as I went, I knew my apartment like the back of my hand, had arranged the furniture in such a way that anyone who hadn't been in the apartment during the day wouldn't see that the end table wasn't quite against the wall. Or that the couch was at a slight angle that was enough to duck behind and shoot at the door without showing myself to anyone who may be shooting back.

Making my way into the kitchen, I hit the on button on my coffee maker, sitting a cup underneath to catch the hot liquid. I stifled a yawn as I grabbed three packets of sugar, dumping them in the cup as the coffee poured in. Once the machine beeped off, I removed the cup and stirred the sugar in.

I wrapped my hands around the warmth and took a small sip, the bitterness dampened by the sweetness of the sugar. I closed my eyes and sighed in contentment.

I didn't live a bad life, given the circumstances. I had a nice apartment, even if it wasn't anything fancy. I had a nice, reliable car that I rarely took out anymore. My bank account always had enough money in it to cover the bills when I was away, and enough to buy groceries when I was going to be home for more than a few days at a time.

Finishing my coffee, I set the cup down, going into my bedroom and grabbing the first dress that touched my fingers. Changing out of my Kevlar pants and shirt, I slipped the dress over my head, running my hands through my blonde hair and slipping off my boots in favor of a pair of heels.

I left my apartment five minutes later, making my way towards the closest club to my place.

I had a meeting, and I wanted to get there first.

I slipped in the back, smirking at the security guard as I did so. He didn't move to stop me, which was smart of him. I made my way to the bar and took a seat on a stool at the very end of the bar. The bartender looked over, but I shook my head.

I didn't mix business with alcohol.

It wasn't too long before I saw him. It had been a while, at least eleven months, but he still moved with the grace of a killer, his blue eyes sweeping over the room constantly, looking for me, and for danger. I understood his wariness. If I hadn't been under the radar from my former employers, I wouldn't have even been out of my apartment at all.

Meeting with him was dangerous, but he needed help, and I was always a sucker for those lost eyes of his.

Speaking of his lost eyes, they found me and he skirted the dancing crowd and took the single stool next to me. He put his arms on the bar, wincing as the music suddenly rose in volume. He didn't look at me directly, but I had no reservations. I studied him carefully, chin length brown hair, downcast eyes, boyish features that made it hard to believe by just looking at him that he was a skilled assassin accredited with over two dozen assassinations in the past fifty years. His looks certainly defied his age by a great margin.

He still looked the same, though his right arm was angled a bit awkwardly. I knew a badly healed broken arm when I saw one. So, that was the reason he tracked one of my sources down. I sighed and slid off my stool, standing close and putting my mouth to his ear, eyes on the crowd for any unwanted eyes.

There were none.

“Follow me.” I whispered, knowing that he heard me. I turned on my heel and walked back outside of the club, the same way I had come in. I knew he was following me from the feeling I got on the back of my neck.

I kept to side alleys and darkened streets until I reached my apartment. I went in the back door and took the old stairwell, knowing that no one would take them in their right mind. Most of the stairs had broken in half, from what cause, I still didn't know, and suspected that I may never want to.

The railing was loose enough that even a bird would make it fall. It was the worst area of my apartment complex, though the apartments were nice enough, and the elevator was perfectly safe. I looked over my shoulder as I reached the fifth landing, spotting him behind me, eyes down.

I pushed the door open, watching the hall before stepping into it, heading right for my door, which happened to be the very first door from the stairwell. I unlocked the door and held it open for him to walk through, following him and turning on the light, locking the many locks on my door. I set the alarm and turned, catching him staring at the apartment in silent wonder.

I could understand why.

One entire wall was made up of weapons, another had five monitors screwed to the wall, showing the front of my building, the elevator, stairwell, the lobby and the hallway just outside the door. The couch was strategically placed, the entire back of it was Kevlar, and the end table not quite against the wall had wheels and nasty frayed-but live- wires hanging off one end,

My apartment was nearly completely Hydra proof, well, except for the brainwashed assassin looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Take a seat, Barnes. I’ll get my med kit.” I said, leaving him in the living area while I ducked into my bedroom and grabbed the med kit every hospital wished they had.