Anne Express: Virtuoso-Chapter#3

A/N: Another new chapter awaits you, my dear readers. So let’s see where this takes us, shall we?


Chapter-3: Horses


“That was reckless of you,” Esme chastises me once I’ve delivered the DNA samples to the given address and returned to my place. “What if she saw your face?”

I roll my eyes at her, glad that she can’t see me. “Hold your horses, woman! How else was I supposed to get a DNA sample? She didn’t have a hairbrush like most girls.”

“What girl doesn’t carry a hairbrush in that big of a backpack?”

“Indeed,” I say, feeling intrigued by the contents of her bag. “She had a change of clothes, a beanie, pencils, pens, nail clipper, paper knife … everything but a hairbrush.”

There’s silence on the other side of the phone before Esme lets out a deep breath. “Let’s hope that she didn’t see your face,” she tells me, sounding more like she’s convincing herself than me. “Grab a nap when you can, Kiddo, we’ve got another assignment coming up soon.”

I pull a face. “What happened to taking a few days off in between assignments?” Irritation seeps out of my voice.

“This is a quickie. You just have to deliver a parcel from one spot to another.”

“That’s all?” I ask. “How much are they paying?”

“Two hundred grand.”

“Just for delivering a parcel?” I ask dubiously.

Esme doesn’t respond for a moment before mumbling softly, “You also have to deliver the parcel carrier with it.”

I can’t help but let out a snort. “Now you’re talking.” Clapping my hands together in anticipation, I say, “Hit me with the deets.”

Upon hearing the details, I wonder why the customer required the service of the most expensive night currier, namely me, Virtuoso, for simply escorting a man from the airport to a hotel across town, but then I shrug it off. Who cares why they need me instead of a cheaper asshole? As long as it pays and doesn’t involve killing someone, I’m up to the task.


Meanwhile in another part of the town …


Holding his head in his hands, Carlisle Cullen stares at the folder lying in front of him. “Are you sure about it?” he can’t help but ask once more.

Instead of being irritated by his repetition, Emmett, his intern, nods vigorously. “I checked with the lab four times. This is as authentic as it gets. The samples you gave me are perfect. There’s 99.99% chance of one subject being the other’s daughter.”

Letting out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding in, Carlisle closes his eyes. Relief, grief and guilt washes through him as he opens the folder and picks up the DNA test report.

“Give me a moment alone, Emmett,” he requests his subordinate. The moment the door closes behind Emmett, he opens his desk drawer and pulls out an old yellowing photograph of five people—four men and one woman in the middle.

Carlisle reaches out to run a finger along the woman’s photograph. “Forgive me,” he whispers earnestly to the photograph, his eyes fixed on her face. “Forgive me, please. I will make this right even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Putting away the photograph back in its place, he folds the report carefully and puts it inside one of the hidden pockets of his jacket and then picks up his cellphone.

Two rings and the voice of his cousin brother greets him. “Carlisle, how are you, my brother?” Phil sounds exhausted judging by the sound of his voice.

“I’m good,” Carlisle responds. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “How’s Reneé doing today? I know it’s been awhile since I visited. Is she mad at me for skipping sunday brunch again?”

Phil chuckles. “You know your cousin-in-law. She loves to treat us to her amazing culinary skills.” Then his voice turns sad as he sighs. “She’s not good, Carlisle. She’s been having seizures regularly as Mary’s death anniversary draws closer.”

Carlisle frowns, thinking hard. “What did the doctor say?”

“He suggested that we keep her away from any emotional distresses because that seems to be the trigger for her seizures.”

Shit! This will turn her world upside down, Carlisle thinks to himself.

“I see,” he says slowly. “Well, I’ll try to come by soon to check on her. Take care, brother.” With that he disconnects the call. Then with a heavy heart he pulls out the envelop containing the DNA report and places it inside the safe he keeps in his office, hiding away the truth from the world … once again.


A/N: So a night currier is like a mercenary, just to clarify.

Anyway, thoughts? Share them with me and leave a review.

Thanks for reading.

I’ll be taking weekends off. So see you Monday.

Have a terrific weekend.

Love,

A

 

Image Source: Pinterest

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