Chapter 2 Pistol

I didn't open my eyes until the afternoon of the next day. My whole body felt battered and sore, as if I'd been through a storm.

The culprit was still sound asleep. I turned my head to look at his handsome face, and couldn't help but marvel at it.

With looks like that, why would he choose to work as a male escort?

If he wasn't a male escort...

The thought flickered through my mind for barely a second before I shut it down.

After witnessing countless games of ambition and betrayal in the business world, I knew better than to take this seriously. The man before me was just a client's arrangement, nothing more.

I gently moved his arm off me and carefully slid out of bed. But the moment my feet touched the floor, my knees nearly gave way.

I had to brace myself against the wall just to reach the bathroom. In the mirror, I saw traces of him lingering across my skin - faint marks even along my inner thighs.

After showering, I glanced at the man still sleeping, took out five thousand dollars from my bag, then hesitated. Recalling his performance last night, I added another thousand and placed the bills gently on the nightstand.

I dressed and tiptoed toward the door.

"Leaving already?"

A husky voice drifted from behind me, heavy with the lazy tone of someone not yet fully awake.

I turned and gave an awkward smile. "Last night... was really fun. I have some things to take care of, so I need to go."

Noticing his gaze fixed on me, I gestured toward the nightstand. "That's for you. If it's not enough, contact me again."

"How do I contact you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

I hesitated for a moment, then took out my phone. "Let's exchange contact info, then."

He looked me over for a few seconds before reaching for his clothes on the headboard. Just then, something heavy slipped from his pocket and hit the floor with a dull thud.

I glanced down - and froze. A Beretta handgun lay at his feet.

I'd seen enough in my line of work to recognize it instantly.

It was a costly model, rarely found among civilians in Asteria City - typically the kind used by the military or the mafia.

What kind of male escort carries a weapon like that?

Could his identity be more than what he claimed?

My instincts kicked in, and I regarded him with a new wariness.

He offered no explanation. Instead, he picked up the gun with practiced ease, slipped it back into his pocket, and took out his phone. "You don't think this gun is real, do you?"

I stared at him for a few seconds, my guard easing slightly.

I was probably overthinking it. I'd thoroughly checked the client's background - he was just a researcher. How could he possibly have ties to the military or the mafia?

Besides, in Asteria City, counterfeit firearms were hardly rare. Beretta knock-offs were a favorite among young men who liked to show off.

I added his contact info and quickly left, making an excuse.

On the way back, I stopped to buy and take a morning-after pill. Even sitting on my sofa, the whole night still felt unreal - like a dream.

I rubbed my face in frustration, but the lingering pleasure in my body forced me to admit: the experience he'd given me was... unforgettable.

Just then, my assistant George called.

"Sophia, that anonymous kidnapping case of Daniel from the biotech company we took on last week - we've tracked down the kidnapper's IP."

My nerves instantly tightened, and I sat upright on the sofa. "Text me the address."

I'd been pursuing this case for over two months, but the suspect was like a ghost - no matter what methods I used, I couldn't trace them.

I'd even considered using police resources, but the client insisted on a discreet investigation, so I had to let that idea go.

Now that they'd finally slipped up, there was no way I'd let the opportunity pass.

Following the address George gave me, I arrived at the oncology ward of Stonebridge Hospital.

To avoid drawing attention, I changed into a set of nurse's scrubs from my wardrobe and wiped off my makeup with remover, leaving myself looking slightly tired and unremarkable.

"George, send me a description of their physical features and clothing," I said, walking as I spoke into my Bluetooth earpiece.

"About six foot five, muscular build, short blond hair, wearing a long dark gray trench coat today," George's voice came through.

I froze for a moment. The image of last night's male escort flashed unbidden in my mind.

The height and hair color matched exactly.

Impossible. I was imagining things.

Last night he'd been wearing a suit, not a trench coat.

"I've already arranged for a detective to meet you at the hospital entrance. He'll give you a mini camera and a bug."

"No need," I refused at once. "The target is highly alert. Any gadget would give us away. Tonight, I'm going in with nothing but my own eyes and ears."