“So... what next?” She stepped closer and rested her palms on the bar.
Impulse and desire overwhelmed him. He leaned in to grip her hair, and crushed his mouth to hers. He poured his soul into the connection—his love and need, every single time he’d held back since meeting her. With a counter between them, it put them off balance. Kirby whimpered and gripped his arms, digging in her fingers to hold herself upright.
The kiss soothed Starkad’s heart and quieted the chatter in his mind.
Kirby broke away first, a cool mask in place. “A kiss doesn’t change anything. I fucking wanted you. I was desperate for you to notice me. To fuck me. To love me. But knowing what I do? What you kept from me? You’re going to have to earn everything.”
“That’s fair.” Not that he wouldn’t push hard to make things right between them. “Until then, I’m still you keeper.” They did have a job to do.
“Yes. And I trust you with my life. But you can’t have my heart. Not yet. What’s the plan?”
He should have expected this. Every time he’d pushed her away, this was her response. To slide into business. To box up her heart. He couldn’t demand she love him, though. “We’re going home. Mission is over.”
“We’re what? In other words, we’re pretending my entire world wasn’t destroyed in the last twenty-four hours?”
“What would you rather do?” He almost took the question back. If her answer was the same as Brit’s give me cash and set me free, he couldn’t comply so easily. But it was Kirby’s choice, and it was probably safer for her. “You can have the same option as Brit. If you walk away now, I’ll give you whatever you ask for and wish you a nice existence.”
“That would make you miserable.”
Or worse. “Yes.”
“It’s tempting.”
“To make me suffer?”
Kirby shrugged. “It’s tempting, but it’s not what I want. I want to drive TOM into the ground, head first. Obliterate Hel and Loki, and watch that fucking institution crumble.” Venom spilled out with the words, and blackness flickered around her, devouring the light for a moment.
“It’s not that easy.” He knew. He’d been working on the details longer than she’d been in this body.
She pursed her lips. “I figured there was a reason you hadn’t done it already.”
“What you’ve been doing is part of a bigger picture. It helps—”
“Stop.” Kirby fiddled with one of the bottles. “What I’ve been doing is sitting on my ass, waiting for the next order, and complying. I don’t know anything about the Followers of Urd except that they’re working to stop TOM from stopping a series of prophecies that may or may not leave the world a better place once they’ve all come to pass.”
She twisted the lid, breaking the seal, but didn’t uncap the bottle. She tapped the plastic cap against her bottom lip. “And I’ve never been cryptic about what I want—you, and to see TOM fall. Though, that first one...”
Her backing off, not pushing for sex or anything romantic, was what Starkad had been trying to convince her was best for years. Now that she was surrendering, he hated it. Careful what you wish for.
“As long as you’re here, so am I,” he said. “Until we figure out what we are or aren’t. But why now? I mean, this desire to pursue TOM more intently.” He wouldn’t try to talk her out of destroying TOM, because it had been his goal for years. He understood the drive; she’d suffered a lot at their hands.
“The instant Brit and Mark asked for permission to hunt me, they confirmed for TOM that I was alive. I can’t hide anymore.”
There was more to it than that. He let silence lapse between them, to see if she would offer anything else.
She stared back, jaw set and mini bottle clenched in her hand. “Call it a moment of clarity. Maybe reliving so many deaths has made me less eager for another one. Life looks different now. Not better, just a more distinct shade of bleak. I...” She sighed. “It’s always been easier to not ask too many question. To accept your answers and pretend the only thing that exists is the little bubble we live in. Knowing what I do now, what you’ve kept from me—who those other Kirbys were, and that Urd and TOM are so much bigger than I realized—I can’t ignore the rest of the world anymore.”
Starkad never meant to shelter her. TOM was supposed to be the opposite of that. But if he looked at things through her eyes, he could see how much he’d cut her off from life. “All right.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “It won’t be an easy execution—either the plan or their deaths. I’ve been trying to discover how to destroy Hel for years. But if you’d like to be a bigger part of it, all right.”
“No exceptions? No you can do this, but not that?”
“I suppose it depends on the situation, but none of the type you’re talking about.” It would be odd, not hiding anything from her. A habit he’d have to work to break. But honesty was the least he could offer. “I’m not willing to test your immortality, for instance.” He could jab her, to see how quickly she healed. But Gwydion did that with her in Kuwait almost thirty years ago, and she’d still died from a bullet to the heart. “I trust you to be as cautious as you always have been.” Maybe a little more, considering her self-destructive tendencies.
This was going to make her more reckless, and the notion hurt.
Kirby tossed him the liquor bottle, which he snagged out of the air without pause. She stepped around the bar to join him, and brushed her lips over his so lightly, he wasn’t sure he felt it. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“For?”
“Trying.” She turned and strode toward the main room.
Starkad would take that for now. And when this was all over, they’d figure out where they belonged.
Hopefully, it was together.
Chapter Three
Brit needed to talk to Kirby. To finish the conversation Mark’s attack interrupted. Knowing gods existed was part of everyday life; Brit had been raised by them.
Finding out her ex-girlfriend was alive, was the last remaining Valkyrie, and had somehow earned the favor of at least two gods and whatever Starkad was... Brit struggled to process it. And she only had a few more hours to make something about her past with Kirby right, before they went their separate ways.
Min and Starkad were on the far side of the cabin, swapping stories about the past that had them laughing sometimes and scowling others.
Kirby had earphones in and was staring out the window.
Brit sat down across from her.
Kirby met her gaze but didn’t take out the earbuds.
Brit raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t going to talk to someone who couldn’t hear her, and she refused to shout.
Kirby rolled her eyes and plucked out the buds. “I’m all talked out. Especially when it comes to my past.”
“What about my past?”
“I’m not really interested in hearing again how your life is all my fault and I’m a monster for looking out for you.”
Brit winced at both the reminder and the bitterness in Kirby’s retort. She’d apologized for the things she said during Kirby’s trial, but with all that came after, the new words apparently hadn’t left the same impression as the old. “I—” Her thoughts were jumbled, and she didn’t know how to sort them. “Mark told me you’d be okay after the hearing. That you’d get a slap on the wrist, at the most. He said I’d suffer so much worse than I already had, though. And that was saying a lot.”
“You weren’t the only one who put up with his shit. I took it for years, thinking it was keeping him away from you. And I never resented you for it. I never betrayed you.”
“I’m not you. I’m weak. A coward.” Brit spat the words. She didn’t need Kirby’s reminders about any of the above.
Kirby grasped Brit’s fingertips and held her gaze. “You’re not weak; you’re selfish. You’re insecure.” She tightened her grip until Brit’s fingers throbbed with the pressure.
Brit resisted th
e urge to pull away, focusing on the hurt and disbelief inside, instead. She fumbled through her anger for a protest.
“You were the best sniper TOM had.” Kirby stared her down, applying consistent pressure to her knuckles and fingertips. “You’re better than me. And you were beaten down for years by a system and a man that fucked us both over. Since I left, I’ve tortured myself so much worse than they ever did. I have a teensy idea of what you’re going through. I still never betrayed you.”
Brit yanked her hand away. “I get it. I was a piece of shit. I wished the instant I said anything, way back then, that I could take it back.”
“You could have. Right then. You could have backtracked at any point before they escorted me out of the hearing. Or for the next twelve hours, while I sat in my room, staring blankly at the wall and wondering if I really was the monster you painted me as. If I’d really been so dim that I missed all the signs that you loathed me so completely. I compared myself to Mark.”
Bile rose in Brit’s throat, as regret mixed with self-defense. “I’m sorry.” The apology carried more of an edge than she intended.
“Me too.” Kirby leaned back in her seat. “That you did it. Not that it happened.”
Brit didn’t know how to respond. The jab of hurt in her lungs stole her breath and voice.
“We’d both still be there if it hadn’t,” Kirby said. “And I’d still think you loved me.”
“I—”
“Don’t.” Kirby palmed her earbuds. “You're looking for me to either absolve you or hate you, so you can blame your actions on me some more. I won’t give you either one.” She plugged her ears again.
Fury and frustration spilled through Brit. She wanted to rip out Kirby’s earphones and pursue this conversation. To scream and yell. To find closure. Kirby owed her that, gods damn it.
AFTER STARKAD RESCUED Kirby from TOM, she dealt with nightmares. Horrific dreams that would wake her up screaming in terror. And that was if they let her sleep at all. Her solution was cutting. The cool, soothing slice of a razor on her skin offered an external distraction, and a rush of endorphins that came with the pain.
Until Starkad found out. He’d offered a different solution—teaching her how to appreciate and respect the pain rather than abuse it. His lessons came with spanks and lashes to her backside, and she’d reveled in the delicious agony.
His only rule was that it never lead to sex. When she demanded he break that rule, the sessions ended. It had hurt so much at the time. A new kind of pain and rejection, worse even than when Brit turned on her.
Kirby needed something else to do with her mind and her body, so she’d asked to be let into other parts of his life.
He’d introduced her to TOM’s opposite. The Followers of Urd. Urd was the sister of fate who wrote the original prophecies. The quintets that seemed to drive the lives and decisions of so many gods, especially Hel and Loki and everyone else associated with TOM.
Starkad explained that FU made sure life was allowed to happen, prophecies or otherwise, without interference.
When Kirby discovered that meant dismantling TOM, one assassin at a time, she didn’t need any more information. From that point on, it was easier to go with the flow than to push for more information. Starkad told Kirby where each job was, and she followed. She scouted the mission area and made most of the decisions about the job itself
As she sat on Min’s private jet, listening to him and Starkad discuss the next steps to eliminate Hel, she wished she’d asked more questions sooner. Being involved in planning where to go and how to get there was a new experience for her.
She agreed with most of what was proposed, mostly out of lack of knowledge. The one argument she had was when they wanted her to go to London with Min, while Starkad met Gwydion in Norway. She kept the thought to herself, though. Her only reason for protest was the newness of this all. This was what she’d asked for though, and she got it.
She didn’t realize how much it would ache to watch Starkad step toward the exit of the plane without her, in Norway. She wanted to kiss him and slap him and turn her back, pretending she didn’t care. Instead, she said, “Tell Gwydion I’m sorry I lost his hat.” She was such an idiot.
Starkad squeezed her hand. “I will. We’ll see you soon.”
That would have to do. Brit disembarked with him. He was making good on their deal, and putting her on a separate flight to Paris from here. Brit gave Kirby one final glance, and this time, Kirby turned away without so much as a facial twitch.
Now what? The need to be alert that always hummed through her veins was louder than normal, as the plane took to the air again. She wanted to interrogate Min, to maybe make sense of her thoughts. But she was also burned out on the heart-to-hearts that had no resolution. She slumped in her seat instead.
He took the spot across from her, filling the space with both his presence and his size. “You’re on edge.”
“Usually.” This wasn’t her looking to forget the world and get laid, or hiding in some safe house while plans were put in motion. Was this life now? At least for the near future? In the past, between hunts, she’d read and game and live in that little world she was leaving behind. Was there such a thing as between hunts anymore?
“What can I do, to put you at ease?”
She shook her head. “If I knew that, I’d have indulged a long time ago. What are you looking for, from me?” Not that she’d comply just because, but she was curious.
“I suppose that remains to be seen. I’d like to start with getting to know you.”
“No offense, but I’m super burned out on soul searching right now. Apparently my ghosts have ghosts.”
“We have time.” There was a pause in his words, as if he didn’t quite believe them.
She wasn’t in the mood to call him on it. For as many times as past versions of her died in front of him, his hesitation made sense. “I suppose we do.”
“May I ask you something?”
As long as it didn’t require any soul-searching. “Sure.”
“The woman at the house, who disembarked with Starkad, she was a former lover of yours?”
Kirby swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “Yes.”
“The man who came to the house, whom she left dead for the police, he had been her partner?”
“Yes.” How long could she get away with the one-word answers? “And she thought she killed him, before she went after Starkad. She was wrong.” There. Now she’d offered more information. It needed to be enough.
The sympathy in Min’s gaze wasn’t comforting. “Do you have any idea why she tried to kill him?”
“Yes.”
Min’s lips drew into a thin line.
“Mark was an obsessive sociopath, who convinced Brit to turn on me, and who made both of our lives a literal hellscape. And in the end, he thought he was doing it for love.” Kirby spat out the words. “Is that the answer you’re looking for? He tortured us, through our teen years, because he thought that was affection, and if she hadn’t gotten to him first, I would have emptied my magazine into his skull and reloaded to make sure the job was done.” She snapped her jaw shut, wincing at her own loss of control.
“I’m sorry.” Min sounded genuine.
She didn’t want his pity. “Me too.”
“We’ll change the subject. What do you do to pass the time with Starkad?”
She studied Min. How much did he know about the past few years of her life? Another question, for another time. She’d spilled too much tonight, and was grateful for the new subject. “I read. He travels a lot. We game when he’s home.” They’d been getting closer, but that fell apart when she demanded sex he wasn’t prepared to give.
Min handed her a tablet. “Feel free to read whatever you’d like. I’m here to talk, if you’d prefer.”
“Thank you.” She tried to keep the kindness in her reply. She was grateful for all he’d done for her up to this point, but her mind was someplace else.
Perspective could be amazing, or it could be horrific. Today it allowed her to stand on the other side of the chasm that had split between her and Starkad, and stare into the void in between.
That sucked.
KIRBY WAS USED TO WAKING up in strange beds, but not usually in hotels this nice. Okay, not ever. Her room was white and cream and had gold and high-thread-count sheets that were softer than satin against her skin.
Life with Starkad was modest. She’d always suspected he had more money than he let on, but it wasn’t hers, and she was grateful he took care of her. Traveling with Min was vastly different, and she’d only been doing it for a day, a portion of which she’d slept through.
She climbed from the bed and yanked on some clothes. When they’d landed in London, there was luggage waiting for her in the hotel. Min told her Daz had made the arrangements. It was only a couple of days’ worth of clothing and essentials, but Min promised to take her shopping for more when she was ready.
The sweater and jeans fit her perfectly. Was she the same size as other Kirbys? How odd was it that she’d had the same name in every life? Another side effect of Odin’s curse. Ought to make her easier to find, at least with modern technology. Was that how she’d been picked up in this life when she was so young? But Starkad hadn’t come for her. Loki had.
More questions to add to the growing list, crowding its way out of her skull. With a little sleep between the implosion of her universe and now, she could make more sense of all the things she needed to. It was still a lot, and she wasn’t sure where to start, but being able to think through some of it helped.
She padded from the bedroom, to find Min in the main room of the hotel suite. When they’d arrived, he didn’t blink at her request for a separate bed. Her memories said he insisted on devotion. That he required she give her all to their love, and that he would do the same in return.
Would she have thrown away a thousand years, looking for him, if he was the one who died over and over? Trying to decipher the answer through layers of denial and memories of intense love made her throat ache, so she shoved the thought into the same box as all the others.
Death in the Night (Legacy, #2) Page 3
