Love me? Nevermore

Annabelle paused to collect herself, battling through fear, pain, and a longing for more of Lenore's attention. "I don't know if there is anybody else here in this building, there might be others but I didn't see. All I know for sure are the two dead ones and the target." She gripped the handkerchief tight in her hand. Her heart was still pounding from Lenore's touch - he sure knew how to play her. "He... he was waiting for me. He seems... cold." She frowned. "In any case, I agree. Let's get rid of him. I need to get my bag back, anyway. Assuming they took it." Plus, we can't afford to fail.

She tucked the handkerchief away in a pocket and bent over the dead man, picking up his gun and a set of keys. She checked the chamber to find it full - thank goodness for Lenore's quick dispatch. She opened the door a bit and peeked out. The cannery was quiet and dusty. "Alright, you ready?"

--

The target stood with his back to the van, leaning on it and finishing up a text. He sent it and breathed a sigh of relief - now all he had to do was wait.

“I observed them take your bag and load it into the truck right after they loaded you in.” Lenore mentioned to her before wincing, “I’d much rather it to have been me they roughed up. If you hadn’t left your position…” he started to trail off, ”…but all that dirt…” He shuddered at the thought of rolling around in the back of a filthy truck but also had a thrill behind the fight that might’ve ensued in the back of the vehicle. His heart gave quick beat at the keenness at remembering what pain felt like.

Lenore frowned, his eyebrows knitted together at Annabelle’s suggestion that their target was waiting for her.

“If he’d known we were coming…” He peered at her with a quizzical look, lifting his own gun into an offensive position, “There’s only one way to know for sure.” He nodded towards the door letting her lead, Annabelle being the better marksman.



“Let’s go."