by Eve R. Hart
She licked her bottom lip, then drew it into her mouth. I watched as she slowly pulled it from the grasp of her teeth.
“Romance novels,” she deadpanned. “Specifically the bad boy biker ones.”
I watched as her cheeks turned from pink to red. Damn, if I didn’t find it cute. She was suddenly becoming a person to me. She was losing the image of the emotionless being that I’d come to know.
Then I saw her mask slipping, only not the way I wanted it to. No, she was bringing it back down. Her eyes darkened and her face turned hard, but I was determined not to let that happen.
“Same,” I said before she completely shut down on me. And damn if it didn’t work. Her mouth dropped open into the perfect O of shock. Her eyebrows went up and I mentally gave myself a high five. The thing was, it wasn’t even a lie. I’d probably read a hundred of those damn things. And enjoyed most of them.
“No…” she blew out in a shocked breath like she couldn’t even believe I was being truthful.
“Yep,” I said crossing my arms over my chest trying my best to play it cool like I hadn’t just said the most unmanly thing ever.
It started with her shoulders, they shook as her chest tightened and I could tell that she was trying to hold back a damn laugh. Then she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. All of it was futile because seconds later she threw her head back and the most beautiful sound filled the room around us. For a moment she was carefree.
Two things happened to me then. One, I was desperate to hear that sound forever. Two, I felt.
I
Fucking
Felt.
I had to leave. I needed to get out of this fucking weird situation with this woman who’d fucking fell into my life at the worst possible time.
She tilted her head back down and met my eyes. Her face turned to stone. It happened as if it were in slow motion. I imagined that she caught the look on my face and her expression mirrored mine. I dropped my arms and with lightning speed, moved to the door.
“Wait,” she called out. I paused at the door but didn’t turn to face her. “Something that makes you smile.”
I was tired of her game. I didn’t get the point. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. I opened the door, intending to storm out, but I paused for half of a second and gave her my answer, before slamming the door behind me.
“You.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nadya
Well, shit.
So much for whatever crazy plan I had. I wasn’t even sure what that plan was. All I knew, was that when he walked into the bar he looked like a man at the end. And for some fucking insane reason, I didn’t want him to be.
The situation was seriously fucked. My head was a mess. My perfect life was slipping. Everything I had worked on up until that point was being tossed out the window and I felt like I had no control over it. I was confused and I never wanted to feel that way. I was angry. Pissed at myself that I had let my guard down. To the worst fucking thing, too. A fucking target. I should have just left him in the bar that first night. Hell, I should have ended this job before he even had the chance to get close.
But I think most of all I was scared. Not a feeling I was used to, even a little bit. I was terrified because I had started to care. The whole point of taking him upstairs, even though I knew he was fine to drive, was making me crazy. It was simple, if I really wanted to admit it. I saw the look in his eyes. I had seen how all the things that had happened had tormented him the past weeks. Only this time they weren’t there. His look was blank. All along he had been a man teetering on the edge, just teasing with that last step. But I could see the second his eyes met mine, that he was ready. It was no longer something that was teasing him.
It broke me. Even if I held it together. Even if I showed no outward sign that I felt that way, it did. I felt my chest tighten and a panic like no other hit me. I was fucked but I refused to believe it was because I cared. I was doing my best to live in the wonderful world of denial. But after tonight, I no longer could.
My feelings covered me like a scratchy wool blanket. I hated everything about it and I started to hate myself in the process.
I flopped down on my bed, fully clothed, even my boots still clung to my feet. A reminder that I wasn’t comfortable in my own space. At that moment, I didn’t even think I was comfortable in my own skin.
I rolled over and buried my head in my pillow. It smelled too familiar. Mostly like me. But there was something underneath it all. Something that was dark and dangerous. The scent that clung to my unwashed sheets—his scent. The worst kind of torment, yet, it had me taking in as much air as I possibly could through my nose. Desperate. Creepy. I felt all those things but I didn’t fucking care at that moment.
In an angry fit, I rid myself of my clothes. I violently rolled around, tearing at everything, until I was left in only my shirt and panties. I pulled the covers over my head, trying my best to shut out the world and hide from my feelings. Every cell in my body desperate for answers I was trying hard to avoid.
I woke hours later, the sun streaming through the dirty windows. I had no idea what time it was and I didn’t care either. For the first time in a long time, I wanted nothing more than to stay under the covers and hide away from reality.
As I shut out the light, something gnawed at my gut, a strange uneasy feeling that I couldn’t push away. I sat up with a quickness that my head wasn’t ready for. I crawled over to my pants and with frantic need, grabbed my phone out of the back pocket. My hands shook as I opened up the app for the cameras.
I’d let him leave even though, I knew I shouldn’t have. But I was too stunned at the moment when he walked out the door. I tried my best to push his answer away as I searched for some sign of life.
The air rushed out of my lungs as I saw him standing at the kitchen window and saw that he was alive. He was up and moving. He was seeing the sun bring in a new day. A smile tugged at my lips as I watched him stare out the window and I only wished I could have seen his face.
I should have never taken this job. I’d never questioned anything like this before and I hated it. But at the same time I couldn’t because this job had led me to him. And while I didn’t know what that meant just yet, I knew that it felt significant. It felt like one of the biggest things in my life and I had a feeling that my world was about to turn upside down. I wasn’t sure how I would survive it, though. Dread filled my veins so thick that everything became tingly and my chest felt heavy.
I wasted the day away watching him. He did nothing exciting, not that I expected him to. But as he paced the house, something seemed different. I studied the small screen trying to figure out what it was. At the end of the day, I had nothing. Whatever he was thinking about wouldn’t be revealed by simply watching and there was no way I was going to go there and ask him. That would be fucking crazy, right?
The sun set and I forced myself to shut the feed down. Even though I felt like an absolute creep watching him, I couldn’t stop. He’d said that I captivated him, but in truth, I was the one captivated. He held all my thoughts. He held my desire. He had become my obsession. The thing that really gutted me was the end. The end had never bothered me before, but this time all I felt was a sick bolder in my gut. If I went through with the plan the way I was supposed to, then it would be his end. But if I broke all the rules and he found out who I really was, it would be mine.
That wasn’t to say I knew for sure that he would kill me. I had a feeling it would be worse. He would turn his back on me. He would feel betrayed by me. And it could be the very thing that pushed him over the edge. I wasn’t kidding myself and I doubted that I had put even a tiny dent in his life. There was no way I could have done that in such a short time. Yet, seeing as he was a man with nothing left to lose, all it would have taken was the smallest thing. I could see it in his eyes, he had me put on some sort of pedestal. He felt like I’d just fallen out of the sky and put in his path. Though, I knew he had no idea why and the thing that
was the real kicker, I could see he was clinging to the idea with his last grip.
That proved to me that he wasn’t ready to let go yet. No matter how hard he had convinced himself that he was ready, he wasn’t.
Angel.
His voice whispered in my ear like a fucking ghost. It sent chills down my spine and I couldn’t stop my body from shaking.
“Shit,” I muttered to the empty room.
I did the best to distract myself. I made tea. I cleaned. I read. I even fucking paced while reciting stories from my childhood. Stories that my grandmother had told me over and over. The ones that were passed down from her mother, and so on. I sounded crazy. Everything I’d tried to push away, to fucking forget, it all came out like I’d done it just yesterday. My Romani tongue moved with ease, reminding me that I’d never forget the language no matter how long I went without speaking it. That it was part of me, sewn into every piece of me, it ran in my blood and pumped through my veins.
I hated it. I was disgusted by it and I’d spend years trying to run from it. Hours spent trying to forget it but it was always there. Like how defensive I got over being called a Gypsy. A disdain lodged deep in my soul, the snarl that showed itself without my wanting.
I was born a traveler. I was made into a con-artist. And after that life rejected me, I still found myself chasing it. I still roamed. I itched when I stayed in one place too long and I never yearned to have one place to call my own. A house to decorate as I wished. And look at me now—a killer for hire. I still worked on the wrong side of the law and I still didn’t show anyone who I truly was. Each identity was different. Everywhere I went, I became someone new. It was all still a con.
I was cool and collected most of the time but now, I was anything but. I hated feeling unsure and I couldn’t take it. My mind was reeling and I felt sick and dizzy. How the hell did I get so off track? How could I fix it? I found myself reaching for my phone, but for a different reason than before.
“It’s been a few days. I was almost worried about you,” Lucy answered on the second ring. And with those few words, my shoulders relaxed.
“Yeah, right,” I said.
“I see he’s still alive. So, I’m guessing you’re still stuck there. I really thought you’d be long gone by now.” There was something in her tone that made me pause. It was almost like she was doing her best to joke through the tension that she had.
“He called me Angel,” I said in a dead tone.
“Angel of death, maybe.” She snorted as she said it. I let out a huffed laugh. Her words were true. Before all of this, it wouldn’t have bothered me and I might have even found some sort of pride in it. But right then it made me feel small, wrong, and a little bit angry.
“I don’t think I can do it,” I mumbled then chewed the inside of my cheek.
There was a long intake of breath on her end. She let it out slowly and I could tell she was trying to put her words together. I wanted her to let go and tell me everything she knew. Like I needed another fucking reason to hate myself.
“Walk away, then,” she said like it was that simple.
“I can’t,” I said automatically. But it wasn’t for the reasons she was probably thinking. “Yeah, my name is already fucked, I get that, so I could just ride off into the sunset and hang up my holster. I could. That doesn’t bother me…at least not as much as it would have three months ago.” I let that hang in the air because I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words that I felt in my heart.
“But you can’t leave him,” she whispered with a slight romantic sigh in her voice. This time it was me who snorted. “Go to him.” Her pitch was high. She was having one of those squealing girly moments and I was not about to indulge in her fantasy.
“Um, no. You’re fucking nuts if you think I’m going to do that. I don’t even know why I called you.” I laughed, but it was tight. My throat fought against the lump I tried to swallow down. Because for a split second, I contemplated it. Fuck, I needed to stop reading those damn novels.
And then I found myself smiling at the memory of him telling me that romance novels were also his guilty pleasure. I wanted to know how it was that he started reading them. Was it because of a girlfriend? Wife? The thoughts sent a surge of jealousy through me. A weird fucking feeling. Something I was not used to and I definitely didn’t like.
“Holy shit! You’re thinking about it,” she screeched in my ear.
How was it that I found myself forgetting I was on the phone with her? I never had before I came to this damn town. This job had me off my game. Staying in one place for too long had really messed me up. Yeah, even as I thought that, I wasn’t convinced it was either of those things.
It wasn’t the job necessarily. It was the person.
“No,” I barked and she had the damn nerve to laugh at me. I was too pissy to say anything else. After her laughter died, the air got seriously silent. I could hear her brain going across the line.
“I think you should let this one go. He’s a good person and he’s been through a lot.” There was a pause, the tension spreading thick in the air as I waited for her to say something else. “Your employer is the reason his son is dead,” she whispered. Then the line went dead.
And fuck me, her words were like an arrow through the heart.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nadya
The rain pelted down on the roof. It had been going all day and I dreaded the run down the stairs to the bar. I knew I’d be soaked the moment I stepped outside. And I wasn’t an umbrella kind of girl.
I threw on a tank top. Well really, it was an old cut up tee. I knew I’d get hot down in the bar and the shirt would allow for good air flow. I pulled on dark jeans and tossed my boots on. I found an old flannel that I’d picked up fuck knows where. It was probably some guy’s that I’d banged and it obviously didn’t hold any sentimental value. I guessed it was left behind after said bang and I’d stuffed it in my bag in a hurry to leave.
Whatever. I just needed something to keep me warm on the way down. It would be coming off as soon as I stepped back inside.
The fucking flannel didn’t help one bit. The icy drops hit my body with a stinging bite and I thought that I should buy an actual winter coat.
Wait!
What?
That thought was all wrong because that meant I would need one. Like for some reason, I was thinking that I would be here long enough to actually use one. Nope. Fuck that. And fuck this mountain winter shit.
I pulled the back door to the bar open with more force than needed. It swung wide, hitting the wall with an ear-splitting bang, as I stomped inside. My feet hit the wood floor as hard as the anger hit my soul. I yanked the flannel shirt off and tossed it on a random stool. A full body shiver wrecked me. I was wet, cold, and pissed off. Not a good combination. I checked myself in the mirrored wall that held the opened bottles of liquor and sure enough, my hair was a mess. What little makeup I had on, now made my face horror house worthy. I blew out a harsh breath. I shouldn’t have cared, but it was that day of the week—the one that he always came.
Noah.
Just thinking about him made me angry again. I scrubbed my face with a paper towel, the roughness scratching my skin and making it look red and blotchy. I ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame and fluff, but it was useless. With an aggravated growl, I gave up.
Thirty minutes later, I had the bar open. The hours rolled on. It seemed to be too wet and cold for most people and the lack of customers only gave me time to think. To stew. To hate myself even more. What had I become? No one had gotten under my skin the way that Noah had. Ever.
The lines were blurring. Lines that I’d never had before. I had jobs and I did them without question. I didn’t think about who those people were or what they had done in their life. I didn’t wonder where their life took a wrong turn or who they would leave behind. To put it bluntly, I didn’t give a fuck. A job was a job. Kill and move on.
Only now it wasn’t. Now I
couldn’t.
My employer had become something. A figure standing on one side of the line. Now that my eyes had been opened, there was no going back. Noah’s son was dead and now there was a face to that evil. There was a face to the monster that had made that happen. I had no idea and in the back of my mind, maybe I didn’t want to know. His son was dead and for all I knew, it was some random accident. A fall at the playground. A heart condition. Something that couldn’t be helped or stopped. But that wasn’t the case at all. His death was intentional.
I didn’t know the whole story but I knew Lucy and the tone she’d told me in had said it all. Noah’s son was meant to die. It was horrible and so fucked up. A kid. An innocent fucking kid. And that all led to me. I was now on the wrong side of the line. I was now evil.
And that was a hard pill to swallow considering that I’d never really put any thought into it before. Sure, I knew that I was no saint and that killing people was, well, wrong. But I had always been able to block that part out, closing my mind and emotions off. Suddenly, the blinds were open and the dark room was filled with light. That light was shining on me, showing all of the stains that tainted my soul. It was a heavy thing to see.
As the night went on, I realized he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been too much for him to carry and the burden finally crashed down on him.
My heart raced and my hands started to shake. I had to see him, but there was no way I could go to him. I’d been so careful not to set foot in that cabin, knowing that my face would be seen if I did. I was sure that only Lucy and myself were the only ones that could tap into the feed, but there was that sliver of doubt that anyone could have been watching. And if the man behind the money found out, it wouldn’t be good.
With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone. I searched and searched, my finger flipping through the different cameras with a frantic need. He wasn’t there. The house was still.
