I watched as she took off her sunglasses and perused the street from left to right. I gasped silently as I saw her eyes, even from across the road. They were the brightest pair of deep blue eyes I had ever seen and for a moment I simply stared. Mentally slapping myself I had the presence of mind to step further back into the shadows, conscious that night in the city was never really dark, especially in the well to do neighbourhoods. She flattened her lips and flicked her hair, which was the most incredible hair I'd ever seen. It was pristinely white, short around the back with a perfect lock resting above her left eye. For some reason, I was tempted to walk over to her and brush it out of the way.

What in the hell was wrong with me.

And like that, she was gone. The driver left, and the house was dark. I watched as the second-storey lights flicked on, followed by the room on the far right of the top storey. My reaction to her threw me a little and I decided I needed to see her at home, relaxed, despite the little warning bells ringing in my ears. I crossed the street, discreetly once again, moving about the place like I owned the whole block before slipping into the shadows once again. The dog barked inside and I decided sarcastically that I was going to kill the little bastard that gave the information to me instead. There was no mention of a dog. Shit, scratch that, there was no mention of a miniature horse shaped St Bernard.

Men.

I shook my head, ignoring the dog as I began to climb. I loved these brick townhouses, they were perfect to climb, the outer layer of mortar already decayed, leaving perfect finger grips all over the building, just perfect for little old me. The rooms on the second floor were dark and I didn't waste any time on them, climbing straight to the third-storey windows, hugging the wall close, fully aware that a slip at even this height could spell my demise. Peering in through the window, I saw the woman in question pacing in the room talking to what I assumed was the ex-husband. I had seen a photo of the first one, but not the second. That was another thing he'd missed.

Men.

I watched as their volume escalated, culminating in the striking of fist to cheek. I gripped the brickwork so hard I made my nails bleed, for a split second, cursing my preference to climbing gloveless.

This woman was an enigma.

People had her all wrong, and I had only seen four total minutes of her life. She stood stoically in front of her obviously arsehole ex-husband, not showing any sign of weakness in front of him, not until he slammed the bedroom door and I heard him slam the front door did I watch her weep. So she was human, contrary to the world's belief. I may not have ever read Runway in my entire life, but I knew the stories, I'd heard the tales of how she was and what she did. Watching her sobbing on the floor changed my perceptions once again. Inside her home, she was simply a woman with two failed marriages. One of which was obviously to some odious man in need of an attitude adjustment. I glimpsed the man walking down the street and towards Central Park.

What the hell, I could use the sport.

I followed him to the park, shadowing him so close I could have tripped him over with a twig. Even from my place behind him, I could smell the alcohol on him. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, changing instantly into the killer inside me.

"You," I said roughly, thankful that I had remembered to include my hat and shades for this assignment. He turned, looking a little bewildered at me as he swayed back and forth.

"Huh?" I rolled my eyes. Clearly, he was intelligent too.

"Don't you know it's rude to hit a lady," I said in the iciest voice I had. I was struggling with myself, trying to prevent myself from ripping his throat out right there, the 'normal' part of me was wondering why I wanted to do this at all if I was going to kill her anyway, the killer in me squashed it quite quickly. I put it down to civic duty.

"What?"

I stood waiting for him to join the dots as I put on my gloves. No sense in leaving evidence, even though I was fairly sure that when I was done with him he wasn't going to call the police.

"Stephen, Stephen, Stephen," I balled up my fists, making sure my gloves were settled." You need a lesson in treating a woman right." I jabbed a fist into his solar plexus, hard, dropping him to the ground like a sack of flour. "Women need to be treated with the respect they deserve. They're the ones that have to put up with your shit after all." I punctuated the sentence with a kick against his ribs, my only regret being I wasn't wearing my steel cap boots. I grabbed him by the hair and dragged him into standing.

"Who are you?" he managed to wheeze, clutching his abdomen with both hands. I shrugged.

"A concerned party," I said grabbing his hair a little more forcefully. "Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. You back off from fighting about the divorce, and I won't release the pictures of you punching her to the media. She'll take you for every cent," I knocked his head solidly against the tree I stood him up against. "Or I take your life. How's that sound you little worm?" he nodded quickly, but I knew better.

"Oh come on Stephen, I wasn't born yesterday. Say it out loud and I'll let you go; not more punching, no more kicking. You can go on your merry way and I can go on mine. What dya say?" he looked positively petrified as I tightened my grip on his hair.

A lesser experienced person would be surprised that he hadn't fought back. I wasn't surprised. Men like that him act the way they do to make themselves feel bigger. The irony is that in reality they're weak and spineless bastards. I slammed his head against the tree one more time, making him answer.

"Alright, alright, I won't contest. I swear it," he said stammering his agreement. I smiled.

"Now, I have that on tape, but more than that, if you ever hurt her again, you'll have me to answer to, do I make myself clear?" he nodded profusely and I head-butted him, knocking him out cold. I shrugged as I looked down at him. "Pathetic."

I grabbed his wallet, watch and phone and threw the lot into a pond I passed on my way back to Miranda's place. After relieving him of his cash of course.

No. Wait.

The Target's place.

Bloody hell, this fucking job was blurry.

Blurry was bad. I'd never had blurry before. This was a new thing. I wasn't used to new.

Shit.

I made my way back to 'the target's' house, intent on watching the place for the rest of the night. I climbed the fire escape on the building opposite and sat against the wall, watching her on her bed, working. I smiled as I saw her write on a pink post-it note and stick it on the book she was reading. Her dog nuzzled her leg and she scratched it affectionately behind its ear. Another post-it note to the pages.

This was a woman that was in total control of her emotions. The sobbing woman from before was gone. In place was a woman who was totally focused. A part of me wondered what the ex-husband was doing in the house, part of me didn't want to know.

He wouldn't be in the house again though, would he!

"You are in so much trouble girl," I said to myself as she threw the book on the table by the bedroom door and disappeared from view. I'd get the blueprints to the house next week sometime, once I'd had a chance to observe her a little more. I wasn't going to rush this job. This one I was going to take my time with. As she came back into view, I averted my eyes. She was now wearing what I assumed to be the finest piece of silk I'd ever seen on a body. I felt a heat take over my body as my imagination ran riot.

"For God's sake, pull yourself together Andy," I muttered as I climbed back down the fire escape. "It's not a freaking peep show," I muttered to myself.

The whole way home I repeated it to myself like a mantra: "It's The Target, not Miranda, it's The Target, not Miranda."

As I lay in bed, one bourbon shy of a bottle later, I'd made a mental checklist of the things that I needed to do.

I needed blueprints to her house, the client had provided the ones to the office, but none to the house. I needed a schedule of her time and I needed, I tutted at myself, okay, fine: I wanted to see her in action at Runway. Maybe I'd plant a few cameras, see what turns up.

I smiled to myself as closed my eyes.

Bloody Hell.