Page 8 of Targeted By Vengeance

“Simone,” I replied, thankful for a normal greeting.

“Wow,” she said, her eyes raking over me. “You’re even more beautiful than Mateo described.” She tilted her head. “And you’re with him by free will?”

“Unfortunately.” I looked over my shoulder at Mateo, giving him a teasing smile.

She ran her gaze over me again, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, maybe by the end of the day, we’ll be able to convince you otherwise.”

I blinked a few times, caught off guard by her playfully flirtatious tone. “What do you mean by the-”

“You’re going to spend the day with Lexie,” Mateo explained.

“And we have a full itinerary,” she chimed in. “First, the salon, then the mall, have some lunch, and then probably hop to another mall. It’ll be fun!”

“But I don’t understand,” I said, turning back to Mateo. “Why does this sound like a makeover?”

Lexie and Dante’s smiles fell as they exchanged a look. “We’ll give you two a minute,” Lexie said, reaching for Dante’s hand. “I’ll be near the bar when you’re ready to go,” she added as she towed him out.

I crossed my arms once we were alone and waited for an answer to my question.

“Listen, now that the old you is dead to the world, you’re going to need a new look - a new identity. Lexie is going to help with your physical appearance and Dante and Miles will take care of all the technical stuff.”

“So, by the end of the day, I won’t be Simone Nichols, anymore?”

“You stopped being Simone Nichols the moment the authorities pronounced you dead.”

The fact knocked into my chest like a wrecking ball, destroying the little sliver of peaceful acceptance I’d managed to grasp. I averted my eyes, unable to hide the moisture glazing over my eyes.

Stepping closer, Mateo grabbed my chin and brought my gaze back up to meet his. “I know this is a huge change, and I’m sorry we can’t make the process slower. But, we can’t risk anyone finding out you’re still alive - especially the bastard who tried to kill you.”

“I know,” I murmured. “And I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and you need to realize that’s okay. Set the brave face down. Save it for when you really need it.”

“I’ll try.”

He nodded, understanding that was the best I could do.

I’ve spent so long hiding behind my strength, pretending things didn’t bother me when they did. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. But now, it seems as though I may not have a choice.

I followed Mateo back out to the main hall where the others were waiting.

Lexie met us halfway, offering me a kind smile.

“I’ll see you later,” Mateo murmured, pecking a kiss on my temple.

Lexie led me out through the front entrance where a red Audi was parked near the curb. She let the music do the talking for us on the ride to the salon. Her taste was similar to mine; lot’s of R&B with pops of rap and hip hop. She hummed along to the songs, even shaking her shoulders to ones with a quicker beat.

Watching her, I thought I might like her. She seemed like a woman who commanded attention when she walked into a room without saying a word. Kind of like my mother at one point in time. A model of something I’d once wanted to be someday. Something I could still become.

At the salon, the first order of business was taking my braids down. At least three stylists teamed up on my head, covering every single angle.

I thought Lexie was going to leave while I was in the chair and come back when I was finished, but to my surprise, she perched in the chair beside me and started chatting. She didn’t ask about my previous life or the events that led me to this point. I assumed she already knew all that already.

Instead, she asked about the things I was interested in and shared some of hers. We found common ground in our love for crime shows and thriller novels. She gave me beauty tips for hair and makeup, and I gave her some pointers on combat moves I’d learned in my training classes.

The conversation passed the time it took for the stylists to take down my braids. I hadn’t even thought about what I wanted to do with my hair.

I stared in the mirror after they’d washed and blow dried it. My hair had always been long, falling to the small of my back in thick, curly tresses. When I was younger, I practically lived in the salon chair for maintenance to keep it up. Braids became my go-to when I started working within the FBI. I didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with my curls then. And even if I did, I’d sweat out a style within one work day anyway.