by Arthurs, Nia
“Absolutely not!” Alistair blurts.
Damien and I stare at him in confusion. The assassin gets a little red in the neck as he tries to explain away the outburst.
“I mean, I think you should focus on protecting the metal box and I’ll protect Kendall.”
Damien arches an eyebrow. “I’m just as capable of protecting Kendall as you are.”
“Really? Is that why you shoved her up in front of a stage so that millions of people could document her location?”
Okay, that’s my cue.
“Hey, cool it!” I dart in between them and place a hand on each of their chests. For a minute, I marvel at the strange twist of fate.
Two weeks ago, I was approaching Valentine’s Day as a single woman with no prospects at all.
Today, even though I still have no prospects, I’m caressing the ripped chests of two very sexy guys. Is life ironic or what?
Chapter 16
Alistair
Damien and I are glowering above Kendall’s head. He’s asserting his strength, but I refuse to back down. Kendall is not available. She is not mine, but she can’t be Damien’s either. I’m trying my best to get her away from people like us.
I know Damien well. He’s only showing interest in Kendall to annoy me. The man has never been serious about anyone in his life. In this line of work, forming ties with a woman immediately puts them in jeopardy.
Love is not an option. For either of us.
I have to remember that as much as he does.
“Hey, cool it!” Kendall slaps each of us on the chest.
Her fiery spirit is alive and blazing today. I turn my attention from the arrogant assassin in front of me to the small chef narrowing her eyes at the both of us.
“I am quite capable of taking a walk down the street without either of you.”
“Definitely not a good idea.”
“Absolutely not!”
Damien and I insist as one.
“Well, that’s your opinion. If you two keep on arguing about every little thing, I’m dead anyway. You either quit it and work together or let me live my life the way I want to in the little time I have left!”
As much as I want to hold on to my anger, I understand the heart behind her speech. Damien and I need to work together or we all die. He’s as much a part of this as I am.
“You’re right,” the younger man steps back.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble and dip my head in the sign of respect and repentance.
“Cool,” Kendall grins.
Her smile lights up the entire room. Immediately our spirits rise.
“I think a walk around the city sounds lovely,” she adds.
It’s not a competition, but I think I’ve won.
“I’m going to change,” Kendall heads to her own room before I can inform her that there’s no need.
Damien runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I really am sorry about the concert.”
“I know.”
I walk to the window overlooking the coast and he follows. We stand together, allowing the silence to wash away our dispute.
“She’s not like any girl I’ve ever met.”
Damien disturbs the quiet. His words frighten me, but I don’t let it show.
“That’s true.”
“Is there something going on between you two?”
“No,” I turn to him. “Why? Does it appear so?”
“Not really,” Damien cocks his head, “I’m not sure. I’ve just never seen you get all bothered by a woman before.”
“I’m not ‘bothered’. I’m simply concerned for her safety. She’s an innocent woman caught in a battle that she didn’t ask for.”
Damien studies my face.
“Dude, you like her!”
Damien’s pointing out the obvious. Of course, I like Kendall. But it is my responsibility to reject my own desires for the greater good. Sometimes, caring about someone means letting them go. It’s the only way Kendall will ever enjoy a full life.
“I do not,” I hiss, hoping that Kendall cannot hear us.
“You do,” Damien points a finger in my face. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“You are gravely mistaken.”
“You don’t fool me, Alistair. I know a besotted man when I see one.”
“Well, what if I am?” I straighten my shoulders. “What if I do like Kendall?”
Damien steps back and swipes the sheaves from the metal box in his hands.
“That’s too bad.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He sends me a condescending smirk as he grabs his coat to leave.
“I like her too. I guess we’ll just have to see who she chooses.”
His words so upset me that I grab for my dagger and shoot it at the door. Damien laughs and closes the door, revealing the weapon embedded in the other side of the thick wood.
He must be joking. Surely Damien hasn’t known Kendall long enough to develop true feelings for her?
My thoughts are fruitless musings. Uncomfortable with the vulnerability that competing with Damien has brought to life, I lounge in front of the television. While searching for the official news network, I stumble upon a scene that piques my interest.
The show is a mindless documentary about housewives who fight with one another and have terrible relationships. Despite the obvious stupidity of the premise, I find myself becoming entrenched in the story as I wait for Kendall to change.
“You dog! You slept with my husband!” A woman with unnaturally orange skin lunges over a dining room table and grabs another lady’s hair.
These women are more passionate than I am. With a bit of training, perhaps they would rise in the ranks of the assassins.
“Alright, I’m ready.” Kendall emerges from her suite.
It’s about time.
I rise to my feet, ready to rush out of the room when I catch sight of her. She’s wearing a cotton summer dress that flows to point just above her knees. Her long hair is swept up in the bun that she likes and dangly earrings swing from her ears.
I’m knocked backward by her beauty. This woman is going to be the death of me. How on earth am I to focus on our surroundings with her looking like that?
“Are you okay, Alistair?”
She steps closer, carrying the scent of flowers as she goes.
“I-I’m fine.” I clear my throat, hoping to regain my composure.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“Okay,” she grabs her purse, “let’s go.”
We head out and I lock the door behind me. “You look nice.”
Kendall seems surprised by the compliment and touches a tendril of curly hair falling from the back of her bun.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I don’t have anything else to say. If I speak, I’ll stutter all over myself. My restraint is being sorely tested. All I want to do is tug Kendall back into the suite, share how my heart bursts whenever she’s near and kiss her senseless.
So I don’t speak.
She doesn’t seem to mind and hums a tune beneath her breath without a care. I recognize the song as one crafted by the band that gained her safe and under-the-radar passage into Europe. I believe it is entitled, Laugh, Belize.
“Oh, I met a girl this morning,” Kendall sings the first line and then hums the rest of the bars.
By the time we’ve reached the lobby, she has the song stuck in my head too. The walk through the foyer is quite trying. Men of every shape, shade, and size stare at Kendall as she strolls by. I want to gather her close, stick a ring on her finger, and claim her.
If this is how I feel simply marching through the lobby of a classy hotel, how am I to brave the streets with this gorgeous woman by my side?
Chapter 17
Kendall
Hanging out with Alistair “scouting the city” is as fun as I thought it would be. I convince him to see the sights, play a few games at an all-day fair near the beac
h, and even ride the Ferris Wheel (for an ex-mercenary the guy’s got a thing about heights).
I know we’re doing serous assassin work, but it kind of feels like our second date. Hopefully, we can leave the crazy assassin stuff behind this time and things will end on a better note. I didn’t get dressed up just so I could kidnap another knife-wielding maniac.
“So, where to now?” I ask Alistair as we leave the fair grounds and stroll down the boardwalk.
The wind buffets the hem of my dress. I hold my arms tightly to my sides to keep my skirt from flaring up. I’m not wearing my fancy underpants today so no one would benefit from the peep-show.
The water is an incredible shade of blue. In fact, the waves curling up on the shore reminds me of San Pedro, an island off the coast of Belize.
“Anywhere,” he shrugs.
I don’t know if I’m over-thinking things, but Alistair hasn’t looked at me since we left the fair a few moments ago.
It might have a thing or two to do with me laughing my head off when his face got pale as we rotated on the Ferris Wheel. I thought it was funny.
Did I hurt his feelings? Am I insensitive? Is something wrong with him? Is something wrong with me? I hate the uncertainty. Things were so much simpler when I was single and miserable. At least then I could douse my insecurity in Oreos and fade into a chick-flick coma.
Since Alistair doesn’t feel too talkative, I decide to run to the arms of an old love.
“Well, do you mind if we get ice cream?”
It is chocolate locked in ice. Who needs a man when they’ve got that?
He glances at me, his left eyebrow hiking up his forehead. “Um, sure.”
“Great!”
My mood is instantly uplifted. I don’t know what Alistair’s problem is. I don’t know what I can do to snap him out of it, but ice cream will be there now and it will be there when Alistair is gone.
He opens the door for me. I slip into a cute, little ice cream shop off the boardwalk. White and red striped wallpaper decorates the walls. The small tables are tall and elegant with adorable red stools fashioned in the shape of ice cream scoops.
I want to sink my butt into one so bad.
First, Alistair and I head to the counter.
“I’ll have an Oreo Cookie cone,” I inform the male teenager with a thick crop of spiky hair and a nametag that reads ‘Jerry’.
Alistair peruses the ice cream selection.
“What’s your favorite flavor?” I ask my date, trailing my fingers against the cold surface of the display.
“I don’t know.”
“Because you like all of them?” I grin.
Alistair sends me a crooked smile. “I don’t really eat ice cream.”
My jaw drops.
“I want to break up.”
“What?”
“What?”
With a confused expression, Alistair shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I don’t have a favorite flavor because I’ve only eaten ice cream once, on a trip to the Philippines.”
“Really?” I moan, “That’s terrible.”
I’m sincerely distressed to hear stories about ice cream neglect. Everyone deserves the joy of ice cream. Unless they’re lactose intolerant of course. Then they deserve whatever alternatives they can find.
I grab Alistair by the arm. “Come here.”
He follows me to the main counter.
“Jerry,” I slap my hand against the metal surface, “my friend needs a sample of every flavor you’ve got.”
“Kendall, what are you doing?” Alistair asks quietly.
“I’m making up for all the ice cream you should have eaten. We’ll find your favorite flavor today.”
It’s a promise that I fully intend to keep.
“But you don’t need to …”
“Sh,” I interrupt him, “don’t worry, it’s free.” Loudly to Jerry, I instruct. “Could you label the cups? Thanks.”
Jerry smiles. It’s the amused grin that I’m used to getting from people, so it doesn’t faze me. Eventually, the server dutifully begins to line up the cups. Alistair and I wait until he’s filled every small container with a dab of ice cream and then we all grab the little glasses.
Jerry, Alistair, and I set the cups on a table near a pillar, away from the window.
“I’ll still take my Oreo cookie,” I slap Jerry on the shoulder. “And thanks.”
“No problem.” He winks with a flirty smile.
Okay, someone’s cocky.
Alistair glares at the young boy’s back, but I shove a cup in his face to regain his attention.
“Alright, go ahead.”
He scrunches his nose in an adorable display. “What is this?”
“This is pecan pie,” I recite, squinting my eyes to read the label.
Alistair hesitantly takes a spoonful. His grimace is kind of funny.
“Okay,” I laugh,” I guess that’s a ‘no’.”
We continue down the line of flavors. A few customers even get into it, trying to sell Alistair on a particular type of ice cream. I can tell that he’s uncomfortable with the attention. I get why.
Assassins aren’t the type that show themselves, especially when they’re marked. After a while, however, Alistair engages with the crowd like a champ. When the plain ole’ chocolate flavor is declared the winner, a few of the old retirees even get a word in.
“He would like chocolate,” an elderly man mumbles as he forks over a five dollar bill to his wife.
Alistair looks at me for a minute, trying to decipher the meaning behind the complaint.
I shake my head and laugh. “No way. I’m not explaining that. You’ll figure that out on your own.”
The wife waves good bye as she and her husband leave, both licking on pure vanilla cones. Alistair and I soon follow, happily strolling out of the parlor to greet the evening breeze. The sun is low in the sky. The beach seems even busier now with the white sails of yachts billowing in the wind.
Someone on the boardwalk is pumping loud music through their speakers. We pass the establishment by. I feel a tug on my hands. I’m surprised when Alistair leads me into the dance club.
He pays the entry fee and we join the handful of other couples swaying to the cheerful music in the dim lighting of the club. He hasn’t said a word, but I’m touched. The move is entirely romantic and completely unexpected. For the most part, I never know where I stand with Alistair Howard.
We’re not dating. We’re not even approaching a relationship. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but the way he’s holding me close, tenderly clutching me to his chest, makes me think that the feelings I have aren’t completely one-sided.
“Hey,” I lean back so that I can look him in the eyes, “thanks for letting me tag along today.”
“Of course,” Alistair rumbles.
I take in a deep breath. “And if you must sneak into the fortress tonight, I guess I’m okay with that. As long as you win.”
“I will,” Alistair chuckles.
“And if you don’t, I’ll personally beat that chief’s butt.”
“How will you do that?” Alistair spins me out and then pulls me into his chest once more, “you won’t be there.”
I slowly dance away from him. “What do you mean? Of course I’ll be there.”
“Kendall…” Alistair begins in that tone that he uses before we argue. “You’re not coming tonight. It will be very dangerous. And you have no training. I’ll only worry if you’re there. I need my energy focused on the duel.”
He spins me around. “So if the problem is my lack of fighting skills, then train me!” I hiss when we collide.
“No,” Alistair’s voice and expression is firm. “We don’t have enough time. Besides, you have no experience with a weapon. Have you even touched a gun before? A sword? A dagger? Do you have the kind of shoes that are fit for long, grueling hikes?”
I fold my arms across my chest. As the happy couples dance around us, I set
my foot down.
“So I’m supposed to just stay at home, twiddling my thumbs, freaking out about whether you’ll even come back alive.”
Alistair widens his eyes and throws his arms out. “Yes!”
This guy is clueless.
“I’m going with you and Damien tonight, whether you like it or not. So you better accept it.”
I’m done talking. And dancing. Frustrated out of my mind, I stalk through the doors of the club and march down the boardwalk.
Chapter 18
Alistair
Women are the most infuriating, vexing, exasperating creatures that have ever walked the earth. This understanding is struck into my mind with each slap of Kendall’s heels against the board walk.
I rush to catch up to the beautifully irritating woman as she speed-walks as far away from me as possible. I can’t fathom her displeasure. What is so hard to understand?
Kendall simply cannot be a part of tonight’s mission. She has no skills that can ensure her survival. We’ve heard nothing of Maveth or the other assassins who may be after us. I feel safer leaving her locked up at the suite than shoving her into the hands of well-trained, blood-thirsty assassins.
“Kendall,” I gently grab her arm to keep her from moving too far from sight.
“What?” she wrenches the limb from my grasp.
I’ve heard the term ‘dog house’ many times, but I finally know what it means to find shelter there. The day has been perfect thus far. I even found a bit of spontaneity when I suggested the dance club.
Why does Kendall have to be so stubborn?
“I’m sorry. I can’t allow you to go with us.”
“Oh,” her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. I know immediately that I’ve said the wrong thing. “So, I need your permission now?”
Yes, I am definitely in the dog house.
“That’s not what I meant.
“Right,” Kendall sucks her teeth and storms away.
I glare at the sky. Couldn’t this argument have waited until I walked her to the door and got a kiss? I see no possibilities of that now.
Nice going, Alistair.
“That’s not… Kendall!”
My shouts fall on deaf ears. She’s determined to ignore me. For the rest of our journey back to the hotel, Kendall sets her face forward. No matter how hard I try to engage her in conversation about the weather, the scenery, or the stars, she remains stoic and stiff.
