Imperfect Match

He's a famous assassin. She's the daughter of a well-known police officer. He's a killing machine. She's the complete opposite. But what if their paths cross? What if the most unfortunate thing happens? What if they fall in love?

Will he be of any good to her? Knowing his way of life?

Will she be able to protect him? Knowing that her own father is against them?

How far will you go... for the love that's clearly forbidden?


4. On the job




"I'm not stupid enough to fall again, Demings." I scowled before storming up the stairs and to my bedroom. I didn't want the conversation to go further. Memories never helped.


Upon locking the door, I almost jumped when I saw Layla, laying half-naked on my bed. A smirk forming on her tinted red lips as she licked them with lust. Running a hand frustratedly through my hair, I let out a breath in an attempt to calm myself, "What the hell are you doing in my room?" I asked, dryly, wanting nothing to do with her other than kick her out.


"I was waiting for you," she seductively said as she hopped off the bed, only in her panties and started to walk over to me and wrapped her thin arms around my neck. "I miss you already..."


"No, you just miss my dick," I said coldly. She just chuckled.


Her hot breath fanned over my face and before I knew it, she crashed her lips against mine. Her fingers grip my hair as she forced my head forwards but I didn't kiss her back. Out of breath, I gripped her waist in an attempt to push her off me as my lips parted to get some air. She took it as an opportunity to shove her tongue inside my mouth and I couldn't help but let out a moan. She was good, but I didn't enjoy it in the tiniest bit.


"Layla..." I breathed out against the kiss.


"Hmm?" she hummed, not stopping even for a second.


“Stop…” I was gasping for air as she gently grabbed my shirt and led me to the bed but I refused to move.


"Get... the.... f-ck.. off.. me..." I said in between heavy breaths as I harshly shoved her back. Panting, I gazed down to see her on the floor, an expression of disappointment and rejection flashed across her features.


"Are you rejecting me?" she asked, her voice pitching at the end.


"I never accepted you," I mumbled, making my way over to the bed, taking my shirt off. I heard her footsteps nearing and a pair of slim arms wrapped around my torso, wet kisses being planted on my shoulder. The next, she was licking my skin.


"You're so hot when you're all sweaty..." she whispered seductively, before biting the skin and licking it again.


"Layla, stop," I growled, clenching and unclenching my fists.


"Come on, baby... You know you want me..."


"No, I don't," I shoved her, and spun around. "How many times do I have to tell you to stay away Layla?"


She chuckled humorlessly, crossing her arms under her bare breasts, "Oh come on. It's not like we haven't had sex before!"


"I regretted every second of it," I spat on her face, my teeth gritted. Her mouth fell ajar, anger and disappointment washing over her face. Smirking in satisfaction, I turned on my heels and went towards the bathroom. The last thing I heard was Layla's loud footsteps and the door slamming shut before complete silence took over. I've always hated that girl.


I only used her for pleasure—but it was often her who wanted it.

A sigh escaped my lips as I licked them before facing the mirror, my unpleasant-looking body in view. I slowly placed my fingers over my damaged skin, tracing every scar I had before reaching over to the bandaged new wound on my shoulder to add into my collection of scars. I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes for a while and re-opening them as I removed the gauze that covered the wound. The looks of it wasn't new to me, I've seen worse. The pain wasn't new to me either; I've already felt much more.


That was part of who I was. That was part of my life. I was born to be miserable. My life was a curse.


I was a criminal, I've done things anyone could never have imagined me doing.... And I was doing one of those things yet again tonight. That was how it worked for me.




"Ah, you're here..." Logan greeted as I entered the room where he always stayed. He was holding a cigar in his fingers, smoke filling the air. Layla was there, glaring at me as she sat on his lap like the b-tch she was.


"Demings told me you're injured," he added as he blew a puff of smoke whilst I sat myself at one of the recliners.


"I'm fine," I said, rolling my sleeves up.


"Good," he took a drag of his cigar before continuing, "Cause I have a job for ya..."


"How much do I get in return, Logan?"


"You got five-hundred if you do it clean," he stated, cocking up a brow, "You think you can do it?"


"Is that even a question?"


He chuckled, "Ofcourse not. That's why you're mah favorite." he took another drag and focused his gaze on his desk. "Bring McCann with you."


My face dropped, "No Logan, Jason's too young for this. Just let him stick with bomb-making." I said.


"McCann is sixteen. The same age you started killing. Sooner or later, he'll be a real part of the gang. Let this be his first real job," he explained and I could feel my heart drop.


"My brother's not a killer," I retaliated. There I say it, Jason and I are brothers. Both given birth by the same mother but different fathers.


"He already killed thousands by just making bombs, Bieber," Logan pointed out. "Besides you'll be needing his help."


"No." I said sternly, shaking my head.


"It's okay Justin. I'll go," Jason's voice startled me. I gazed at him, his face drained with emotions. He looked... heartless. The same way I always looked. I didn't want him to be like me. Making bombs was already a crime, and now Logan was making me drag Jason to become a killing machine like me. That wasn't what I wanted with my life. We both lost our childhood because of all this.


But I knew it was fate. We were both sucked into this way of life. This was meant to happen, eventhough I wished it wasn't.





[2:25 am]


"Listen Jason," I whispered as we parked the car near the house we were breaking in. "All you got to do is plant the bomb and go back in the car, alright?"


He looked at me with an expression of disagreement, "But--"


"No, you listen to me." I commanded sternly. He let out a defeated sigh and nodded. I smiled and ruffled his hair, causing him to scowl. I just laughed.


We both exited the car and went for the back entrance of the house where Jason would plant the bomb that was going to blow the whole house up. I kept my guard up, completely cautious of my surroundings. I could feel Jason tense behind me. I looked over at him, he was biting his bottom lip and beads of sweat were forming on his skin. He reminded me of my first time doing this exact same thing.


"Jase, you okay?" I asked in a whisper. He merely nodded. I patted his back in a comforting manner and gestured for him to start planting the bomb. He nodded and did his job whilst I guarded him, making sure no one caught us. Once he was done, he stood up and nodded, signaling me to do my part. I nodded in response.


"How much time do I have till it explodes?" I asked. He looked down at the timer then glanced up at me again.


"30 minutes, I figured you'll need lot of time," he answered.


"That's a lifetime," I said. "Go wait for me in the car..."


With a nod as a response, he obeyed while I found my way inside. Anxiously glancing around, I could feel my breath hitch as my heart raced. I quickly went up to where the bedrooms were, spotting the first to be a little girl's bedroom. I couldn't help but feel guilty that I was doing this. This family didn't even do anything to me. But it was my job. As stupid as it sounds, Logan controls me. He never tells me reasons on why I should kill a certain someone but I had to do it anyways. Or else I'm a dead man.


Opening the door, my eyes landed at a child, probably aging 6-8 years old, hugging her stuffed-toy tightly like how I used to when I was younger. I could feel the tears forming at the pain and guilt building up inside me.


The next thing I knew was I was shoved against the wall, making my hand lose contact with my gun. I coughed, groaning as pain jolted from my shoulder up to my neck and arm.


Shit. I got caught.


"Who are you?"




"Alright, I can't hold it in anymore," I told my bestfriend as we sat on my bed. She looked at me puzzled and licked her lips.


"What do you mean?" Emily asked. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.


"I got to tell you something I can't tell anyone..." I started, my voice low and clear, telling her I was dead serious as my gaze locked with hers. "Just you."


She seemed to have gotten the message so she lowered her voice, "Is that why you called me to come over? What is it?"


"Yes," I whispered. "And I'll tell you if you promise me you'll keep your mouth shut."


Don't judge me. I had to tell someone. It helps on my part.


"I promise," she replied without hesitation. I knew she meant it.  Emily never promised me something she wouldn't keep.


"Okay," I sighed. "I trust you. We just have to keep this between us. I just can't hold it in anymore. I need release and you're my only choice..."


"Just get to the point already," she said, getting impatient.


I took a deep breath, letting it out to my nostrils before saying what I was really planning to tell her.


"Justin Bieber was here..."


1...2...3... I knew how she would've reacted.


"WHAT?!" she squeaked in panic, her eyes widening but I stayed as calm as I could be, readying myself for her second reaction after I tell her another thing,


"I helped him escape..."


"Are you crazy? Damn! Why would you do that? What if he killed you?! Pete's sake Reign Alicia Cross! He's a criminal! Not to mention, a famous one! Come on! You can't expect anything good from him! Are you out of your mind, thinking he was something good?! Gosh! You could've gotten his ass in jail for this world's sake!"


I sighed, rolling my orbs as my bestfriend kept nagging. Now, I couldn't blame her, could I?


"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?!," she squeaked, out of breath.


"Well, are you done?" I cocked a brow up. She crossed her arms, her lips pouted.


I sighed again, twirling the ends of my hair, "Well..." I trailed off. "He was pretty nice when I took him in..."


Her jaw fell with disbelief, "Gosh, Reign! Are you seriously on that criminal's side?"


"I didn't say that!" I protested. "I just said he was nice!"


"That's the same thing!" she shot back. I scowled and crossed my arms.


"It's far from the same," I mumbled stubbornly. Emily sighed and stood up from the bed.


"Tell me." she said, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. She sighed again, "Tell me why you helped him..."


Her eyes were locked with mine, I could sense she was still on my side and she didn't judge me by what I did in the least. Bestfriend everyone. I pursed my lips on the side, thinking of a reason I myself didn't know. I honestly didn't know why I helped him. It's just... It's just that when I saw him there, something just pushed me to go out there and take care of him. Cheesy, but it's the truth anyway.


I heard Emily clear her throat, her foot tapping on the floor as she waited for my answer with her eyebrows raised. I gazed down and let out a breath.


"I... I don't know, really," I mumbled, looking up again. There was silence for a while before my dad broke it off by opening the door.


"Honey, I'm going to work now. Is Emily staying here?"


I looked over at Emily who was glaring at me. I gave her a questioning look then she forced a smile and looked up my dad, "If you don't mind me staying, Mr. Cross," she said, nicely.


Dad beamed back, "Well my baby girl here could use some company."


"Thankyou, Mr. Cross," Emily nodded.


"Welcome. Well," he clapped his hands, "I gotta go."


I went up to my dad and wrapped my arms tightly on his neck before kissing his cheek, "Bye dad. Be careful."


"Bye baby," he smiled and looked over at Emily. My heart raced as Emily gave me a glance. I thought she was gonna tell on me....


"Well, goodbye Em."


Here it goes...


Emily went up and kissed my father's cheek as well, "Bye Mr. Cross."


But she didn't.


With that, my dad left the room and a sigh of relief escaped my mouth, "Wow," I breathed out. "I thought -"


"- I promised, remember?" she cut me off. I smiled.


"But that doesn't mean we're done missy," she said in a motherly tone that was almost annoying as she pointed a finger at me. Oh, joy.


"Now tell me why..."


Why exactly? Why did I have a sudden soft spot for a criminal? Why did I feel like I wanted to see him again? Was I going insane? Or was it just the effect of reading too much fiction?

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