My New Target

My New Target
Rowan's POV

The detective wasn't wrong. I shook my head gently as I dropped down from her car, throwing my jacket onto my shoulders.
I marched down the sidewalk, not looking back. Her car hummed to life behind me and sailed off for her destination. Still, I didn't look back but kept on weaving through my fellow pedestrians on the sidewalk, my hands well in my pockets.
I tried to, but I was unable to keep her words off my mind. Like a ghost, they haunted my mind, sharp, flaring up in my head with her voice. There's no future to this… Let's forget we ever met… We can't both afford things going past this… Do you love me, or even plan to… The statements repeated continuously in my head, in one seamless loop, her voice echoing in my skull.
I didn't know why I found them painful and cruel, even when every word she had uttered was the truth. Whatever attraction I had developed for her had to stop. She was a cop, and I was a criminal, and the last thing I needed was a relationship with a cop, or even a relationship with anyone at that. I should know not to make the same mistake twice, especially with how much the last one had cost me.
I shook my head hard and blinked hard to shake off her words, switching them up in my mind to other things. For a couple of moments, I cleared her from my mind, but before long she was back, and harder. But I figured she would pass soon. I trust myself to be wise enough to let go of the same mistake that made me end up in all this mess in the first place.
I reached the end of the sidewalk, and I cut instead of cutting into the next street. I ran down the crossing, heading fast to the nearest hospital. For a con artist like me whose beautiful face was an important aspect of his operation, the last thing I wanted to look like was like I had just been fed through a wrangler.
I strolled into the hospital lobby some minutes after, and I flashed one of my best smiles at the beautiful nurse behind the counter. Perhaps I might forget my attraction to the detective sooner if tonight goes well. She stood up to attend to me, her lips curling up in a beautiful smile as well. There were kiss-worthy lips, the lower lip slightly fuller than the upper, but still, they hinted at something memorable, perhaps more than the detective's. I couldn't tell now, though.
“How may I help you, mister?”
I leaned up against the counter, thrusting my smile closer to meet hers. “There are many ways you can help me, miss. First you can stitch me up, and then if you are kind enough, you could follow that up with a kiss. I wouldn't mind. You are one hell of a cute lady. And if you are super kind, I could go home with your number. How does that sound?”
She chuckled, looking away from me and the giggling faces of her colleagues, and she began walking out from behind the counter. “Come right this way, mister—”
“Rowan Drake.” I filled in, following after her. "But you can call me baby. I wouldn't mind."
I had a feeling I might really get blessed with a kiss if I charmed her enough, and perhaps her number too so I could come back for more.
She led me to an area of the ER where she fixed me up and pasted some cool bandaids for my bruises. She had been a little stingy with a kiss on the lips, but I did get a promising request to plant my lips on her cheeks instead. And striding down the lobby into the night once more was me with her number written on a thick patch of toilet paper. I grinned at myself, brushing my thumb on my lips as I shoved the paper into the back pocket of my pants.
The detective was super right. The nonsense between us had to end. Women were too easy for me. I see no reason why I should keep myself stuck to one and risk repeating the biggest mistake in my life when I can have them all.
I strolled into the night now, marching purposefully under the watchful gaze of the bright moonlight, its silver strands lacing the large strip of asphalt ahead of me. It was time to get my act together and drum up some trade, make some money the only way I know too. And I marched down to the very place to make that happen.
I had branched off to my motel room and changed into something more presentable. A three-piece suit that placed me well in the luxurious ambiance I was strolling into thirty minutes later. The rotating door led me into the brightly lit hotel lobby. Like the professional that I was, I didn't let myself get dazzled by the luxury that echoed in the massive lobby. I threw my hands into my pocket, my chin raised high enough, and my eyes planted forward, and I strode like I owned the place down to the hotel's restaurant.
I stepped into the world of decorated tables and chairs, a Michelin-starred restaurant with the super wealthy dressed in their expensive attire and fiddling with their meals. The kind of meals that I would call a financial mistake, but to them—some spare change.
I stood at the door for a moment and inhaled hard, dragging in not just the exquisite aroma of the high-class cuisine around but also the undistinguishable scent of wealth and riches gathered in one luxurious room. I brandished my best smile, and I strode further in, moving to find myself a table.
I was striding in, my financial magazine in my hand, when my eyes fell on her—Lucy Callaghan, Mayor Callaghan’s younger sister, and for tonight, my mark. I brushed my thumb on my lips, grinning at myself at my wonderful luck, and I marched fast for her.