Roman looked down at his notes. They weren't nearly as complete as he would have liked them to be. There were still steps that he didn't know, time for which he couldn't account. There were only so many cameras, and it was inevitable that the guy would vanish at some point. What did he do when he was out of Roman's sight? This wasn't like losing a mark in the bathroom for five minutes. This was an hour or more of not knowing.

There were cameras in the mark's car, cameras at his job, and at least three satellites that they could tap into in order to get a view of him, but he took the subway home, and once he went down into the tunnels, a little time was needed to get access to the cameras down there. And when he came up, the satellites had to be repositioned.

No, Roman did not like doing this from the safety of a computer in an underground bunker. He needed to be out on the streets, his feet on the pavement. He needed to feel the buzz of life passing him by, the thrill of people brushing against him, not knowing that they had just brushed arms with Death. He needed to feel the air around him, the cold burning his skin in the winter, the heat pulling sweat from his skin and soaking him in the summer.

He just needed to get outside.

Roman stood up from the desk. His chair scraped the floor loudly as it was pushed back. Roman felt the eyes turning his way, but ignored them the same as he had been ignoring them every second of every time that he sat in the surveillance room. Sometimes he wondered which ones were afraid of him because they had common sense, and which ones were terrified because they had gotten into his profile. Most of the time, though, he just didn't care.

The face of his mark stared up at him from the computer screen. Would they send Roman out after him? Or was he just doing the busy work for someone else to get the prize? Roman looked at the dull, dark eyes that stared at him from the screen. If he got his hands on him, he would shave the man first. His beard was in the way, and when Roman went for the throat, he preferred a smooth, clean cut.

Roman shook his head and turned away from the computer. He caught eyes with the Surveillance lead and was impressed that Kaitlyn managed to meet his eyes for a full twelve seconds before she had to turn away. She was getting better. The last time she and Roman locked eyes, she'd only lasted eight seconds. The first time, she hadn't even made it to three.

Roman walked past her and everyone else. His feet fell silently against the floor. It was a gift that he seemed to always have. For a guy his size, he should have been a lumbering hulk who announced his entrance in the loudest way possible, but his footsteps had always been so light. Roman's spec ops leader had told him that God had gifted him to do their special work. Roman only grunted. It was more like the devil had cursed him with the necessary skills to do his work.

He walked into the hall and turned right. Roman kept his eyes forward as he moved, his arms swinging at his sides. The halls were mostly empty, just a few people moving around. At this time of the afternoon, necessary personnel were at their stations. Trainees were in their classes. Roman's future team were in weapons training. Roman had been excused, because no one wanted to waste their time. With everyone having a job to do or a place to be, there weren't many people to watch him, to wonder where he was going, to push against the wall to avoid crossing his path.

Roman moved down straight corridors and rounded sharp corners. He moved through office space, dormitory space and nothing space. He took an elevator down to the lowest level of the base, then walked through more nothing space that led to office space. Roman moved until he was at the bottom of a long steel stairway, looking up into a cold glass box.

Trish looked down at him. Had she already been there, looking out on her shared empire? Or had someone realized where he was going and given her a heads up? Their eyes met, and Roman knew her to be one of the few people in the world that he couldn't automatically read. She would have been a wonderful hunt.

Roman shook his head. No women. No children. He reminded himself of his rules. He turned away from the box for a moment and focused on the first man that caught his eyes. He looked like prey, but not Roman's kind of prey. He did nothing to stop the thoughts in his head.

Roman took in a deep breath and turned his head slowly, almost painfully, back to look up at Trish. He felt a warmth in his stomach and a throbbing low in his groan. His chest heaved with his breaths and his shoulders rose and fell with each aching intake of air. The smart thing to do would have been to walk away. The easy thing to do would have been to go back to his room and let someone lock him in for the rest of the day.

Roman was neither smart nor easy at the moment.

The feelings in him- Something had to be done about them. If he were back out in the real world, he could have at least gotten a prostitute. He didn't have a regular girl, because regular would have turned to stalking, and before long, he would have broken his rule. But, there were enough working girls on the streets in his city, in any other city that he needed to visit, that Roman could always find a girl that he hadn't fucked recently. Another rule to live by… Never go back to the same girl unless there were at least three others between the visits.

But, they weren't going to let him out, not even with a chaperone, because they knew he could evade even their best watcher. And he wasn't even going to ask Heyman to get him a hooker. That wasn't the kind of thing a guy asked his boss to do. Besides, to ask meant he would have to explain why getting one was so dire, and telling Number One that he was so horny he wanted to strangle Number Two, well… Roman did not want to be decommissioned, especially before he ever got the chance to go out and do the damn job.

Trish gave a jerking nod of her head and turned away from the glass. Roman puckered his lips. As they moved back to relax, his tongue snaked out, ran across his lips in a moist wipe, then let it slither back into his mouth. He rotated his shoulders, then moved forward. His arms swayed at his sides, then jumped with the motion of his body as he reached the bottom of the stairs and jogged up.

The door was already open when Roman reached the top of the stairs. He closed it behind him when he walked through.

Trish stood to the left of her desk, her fingers hanging down, nails tapping against the black lacquer finish. Her black skirt hugged her hips and thighs, ending just above her knees. Her white shirt was tight against her chest, her breasts pressing against the material. Thin straps over her shoulders left her arms bare, the muscles beneath the skin loose and at ease. Roman's eyes flicked to the side and, as expected, her jacket hung neatly on the back of her chair. That shirt was too damn tight for a professional woman like that to wear it without a jacket. If she wore black hose with her heels, she damn sure wore a jacket.

"You're getting restless," Trish said. She walked forward, her nails sliding instead of tapping as she moved past the end of the desk. Trish folded her arms over her stomach and rested her weight on her right hip.

"Something like that," Roman said, his voice low and guttural.

"How is your research going on our latest project?"

Roman groaned. "It's going as far as it can go without actually following him."

"I see." Trish switched her weight to the other hip. "And what can you tell me about our possible target?"

Roman stepped forward. He balled his left fist and buried it in the palm of his right. He cracked the knuckles of his left hand, then repeated it with the right. "He's a creature of habit. On the plus side, that means that we know where he's going to be at any given moment of the day. On the negative, it means that he doesn't leave too many openings to slide in. We're not the only ones that know he likes his habits and routines. Everybody who knows him knows it."

"And where would you take him, then?"

"Subway." There was no need for hesitation. Roman had already planned out the kill. This wasn't one that he would be able to take his time with. There was just no way for him to get the mark out of the subway with no one seeing him. Plus, Roman was itching for the kill too badly. He wanted the death. The play could wait until he wasn't so keyed up.

Besides, this was a company job. Roman had to get used to doing them quick.

"Quick and easy," Roman said. He dropped his arms to his sides and stood up straight. "A long thin blade under his arm, he'd probably ride the train for hours before anyone figured out that he was dead."

"It's amazing that more people don't recognize you, Roman." Trish walked toward him, her movements slow and deliberate. Roman forced his eyes to stay on her face, but they sorely wanted to go down and watch her hips move. "You are a rather imposing figure."

Roman grinned. "A big guy dressed in all black hiding his face with a hoodie everybody notices. A nicely dressed man in a suit and tie with a briefcase isn't noticed that much. Only people who remember him would be the ladies he flashed a smile at, and they're not going to remember how close he was sitting to a guy they didn't even realize was dead."

Trish smirked. "And you have such a winning smile."

Roman let his lips slide into a well-practiced smile. He knew that his real smile could make men piss themselves at the drop of a hat. However, he had also learned that the right kind of smile could make a woman forget anything other than the things she wanted to do to the man who flashed her that smile. Roman hated most people, didn't like socializing with them, but he had learned long ago how to pretend, and when he wanted to, he was very good at it. It just so happened that he didn't want to do it very often.

Trish bit her bottom lip. Her right hand moved to rest on her stomach. The heat in her eyes told Roman that, even though it had been over a year since he last had to use that smile, he still knew how to put it on. It also made his groin tighten and his heart rate speed up.

Roman dropped the smile and his face went blank again.

Trish took three steps toward him, then stopped. Her hands dropped to her sides. Roman knew how to read people, and from Trish, he read the possibility that she wasn't too far in her thinking than he was. She may not have the urge to kill when she was attracted to someone, but attraction did still exist.

"You're not the kind of man to beat around the bush, are you, Roman?" Trish asked him.

"Never found any use in it," he told her.

"So, if I were to make you an offer, and you were interested in it…"

Roman snorted. His lip curled up and his eye lit with his smirk as he said, "You're beating around the bush, Trish."

"I prefer not to be called on things, for future reference."

Roman nodded. "Understand."

"Well, then, when I'm prepared to make that offer to you, I assume that you will be accepting it."

Roman nodded again. "You assume correctly."

"Perfect." Trish turned her back on him, and Roman was pretty sure that was the sexiest thing about her. She had fear, she knew fear, but when it came to Roman, she didn't show any of it. She was strong enough, confident enough, to turn her back on a man who could kill her and be out of the room in less than ten seconds.

Trish walked slowly around her desk. She caught Roman's eyes as she placed her hands flat on the desk and lowered herself into her seat. "A few more weeks, Roman, and I'll be ready to send you out," she told him. "Until then, I need you to stay calm."

Roman took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. A few more weeks, she said. Roman was hoping that she would be impressed enough, or afraid enough if that made a difference, to let him out sooner. "When does my door stop getting locked at night?" Roman asked her.

Trish smirked at him and his groin tightened again. "Right after your first job," she told him. "Then, I think we'll all be safer. Don't you?"

Roman grunted. He wasn't going to kill anyone, not yet, but there was no point arguing with them. "If you say so." Roman turned away from her quickly, and the movement made him groan. His groin was tight, and he needed to get some relief, and fast. Before he did something he would regret.

"Somewhere to be, Roman?" Trish called after him.

He grunted, his hand on the door. He turned the knob and pulled the door open quickly. Roman didn't look at her as he said, "Yeah. Unless you're making that offer right now."

He could hear the smirk in her voice as she said, "Not just yet, Roman."

He grunted, then walked through the door. He left the door open, the same way as he found it. Roman jogged back down the stairs and again ignored all of the looks that came in his direction as he walked quickly through the room and, when he reached the hallway, that quick pace turned into a jog, that was almost a full run by the time he reached the elevator.

Because Roman needed to take care of himself before someone died.