Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin)

by Gena Showalter

  “Not you,” she said, sitting up to reach for him. She managed to wrap her fingers around his wrist. A wrist so big her fingers weren’t even close to touching. He was strong, amazingly so, and that should have scared her, would have scared her, until she’d woken up and discovered everything he’d done for her. “You are—” Dizziness had her swaying, moaning.

  Solo returned in an instant, pulling from her grip to cradle the back of her head. He eased her down, and she battled an urge to snuggle into the warmth of his body, to know she was safe and protected for once in her life and maybe even . . . cherished.

  He didn’t cherish her, though, did he. He liked kissing her, she was sure, and had wanted more, but sex had never been and would never be proof of someone’s affection.

  “You sat up too quickly, after lying down too long.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” she assured him. “Before, I mean.”

  “Then to whom were you talking?” He paused to shake his head, perhaps recalling the other time they’d had this conversation, when the question had been directed at him. “And why were you beaten? You never told me.”

  She licked her lips. “You once told me you talked to invisible men.”

  He sucked in a breath and moved away from her. “No, I didn’t say I did. Only that I might be.”

  Fine. “Do you believe there’s another world at work around us?”

  “Very much so.”

  Her eyes widened. He’d admitted that so easily, as if he had no fear of her reaction. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Me too.”

  “And?”

  “And, I . . . was talking to someone in that realm,” she said, and waited for him to admit to knowing Dr. E and X.

  A minute passed.

  Another.

  “So, why were you beaten?” he finally prompted, no hint of his emotions revealed.

  Maybe he didn’t know the pair kept tabs on him. If not, she didn’t want to be the one to tell him. “Matas is twisted, warped, and on a power trip. That’s why.”

  Solo reached out to smooth the hair from her brow. He caught himself just before contact and dropped his arm to his side. “I know you aren’t a fan of violence, but when you were delivered to me I broke his arm in a way that it can never be put back together. He won’t be hitting you again.”

  Another deed to protect her. “Thank you,” she said, fighting a sickening deluge of dread. Clearly he was done touching her, even in the smallest way, and he might even regret kissing her. Why else would he want to maintain such a great distance between them?

  But . . . but . . . she wasn’t done with him, and didn’t want him to be done with her.

  He looked at her, thought for a moment. His shoulders bunched with tension. “How long has the circus been in operation?”

  I can do this. I can chat as if nothing’s wrong. “Jecis’s great-great-grandfather opened it, and the oldest son has always taken over.”

  “How has he not been shut down?”

  “He not only uses lookouts to prevent cops from making it into the circus, but when he can, he pays the higher-ups to ignore him.”

  “You’ve seen these higher-ups?”

  “Oh, yes.” Jecis loved to entertain, and though Audra was the candy on his arm, the one he kept at his side during any such events, Vika had watched from the shadows whenever possible.

  “And you could point them out if I showed you photographs?”

  Hold everything. “Are you a cop?” she asked, the idea not surprising her. It did concern her, however. After she freed him, he might try and arrest her.

  A pause. A flicker of guilt in his eyes. Then, “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in closing the circus once and for all.”

  Relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about being tossed into another prison cell, she said, “Yeah, me too.”

  He arched a brow. “Where do you plan to live when you escape?”

  She pictured the beautiful cabins in New Colorado, the ones she wasn’t yet able to afford—the homes that could be sold at any time while she scrimped and saved. “I’ll find a place.”

  He rubbed two fingers over his jaw. “Wherever it is, modifications will need to be made.”

  For her deafness, he meant. “Are you going to come over and fix it?” she asked, and promptly wished she could snatch back the words. How wonderful it would be to have him inside her sanctuary, just because he wanted to be there. But with the way he was currently acting, there was no way he would—

  “I would be willing to do so, yes.”

  Pleasure was a soft, sweet rain against her skin. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Would you demand payment?”

  His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. Scowling, he pushed to his feet and stomped to the far corner. Only then did she realize her mistake.

  “Solo,” she said, but he ignored her. “Solo. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question your honor or anything like that.”

  Silence.

  But of course, she lived in a world of silence. “I really am sorry.”

  Again, silence.

  “I was afraid you were angry with me, because I had stiffened during our kiss, but I only stiffened because I was nervous about what we were doing. I’ve never done anything like it before. And then, when you said you wanted to come over to my new house and help me, I asked if you would demand payment because I wanted you to say yes. I was going to tell you that I would pay you in kisses. I just . . . I wanted you to know that I liked what we did, but I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

  She had zero experience with men who were not the spawn of the devil or related by blood. Or both. Townies had never been an option, and none of the boys at the circus had wanted to risk her father’s wrath. And after her time in the big city, alone, frightened, and witnessing the cruelest of deeds, she’d wanted nothing to do with any male . . . and maybe even ladies with mustaches.

  A few days ago, she would have balked at the mere idea of being handled by hands as big and rough as Solo’s—and probably had! Now, with his sweetness so fresh in her mind, she just wanted another kiss.

  She inched into a sitting position, but even still, the dizziness returned full force and she had to close her eyes. This time, Solo didn’t rush to her side.

  Could nothing go right for her? Ever?

  “Fine. Be that way,” she said, riding the tide of resentment. “Act like a baby princess.” If Solo wanted to pout because she’d inadvertently insulted him, whatever. That was his prerogative. “Normally I wouldn’t say something like this, but I’m going to make an exception for you. I hope you enjoy your solitude. And by that I mean I hope you choke on it!”

  Nineteen

  Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

  —PROVERBS 13:12

  HER FINAL WORDS WERE certainly fitting. Solo was choking on his solitude. His mind refused to settle, was stuck on one thought. She had liked his kiss, had wanted more. Not because she’d felt obligated to him or because she had wished to soften him. Just because.

  He almost wished she hadn’t told him. Now his body hungered for her on a level he’d never before experienced, a level that mocked everything else he’d felt, as if he’d never really known what it was to crave something. Now he knew.

  He wanted her desperately.

  He needed her frantically.

  He had to have her. Couldn’t hold out much longer.

  But he had to hold out. Not for any of the reasons he’d previously entertained but for a new one. Reason one hundred and three. Already he reacted terribly when she was hurt. If he claimed her, he would grow more attached to her, and if he grew any more attached to her, he wasn’t sure how he would react when Jecis came to take her away. And Jecis would come to take her away.

  Solo needed to think about the best course of action, the best way to handle this.

  Vika had moved to the far corner of the cage, whe
re the strongest beams of light hit but fewer bugs approached her. He claimed the center and lay flat on his stomach. He balanced his weight on his hands and his toes and pushed up, lowered, pushed up, working out the tension in his arms.

  By the two hundredth descent, a slow burn had worked its way into his biceps. He did two hundred more before rolling to his back and performing just as many sit-ups. Sweat trickled down his chest and back in little rivulets. His mind whirled.

  If Vika ever found out about his past . . . about his side job . . . she would no longer trust him on any level, and would not want him out of the cage. She would dump him into the same category of evil as her father and Matas.

  She wouldn’t understand the difference between a necessary kill and a cold-blooded one. But then, she wouldn’t need to, he realized a second later. His kills hadn’t always been necessary. Sometimes he’d had to take out innocents to get to his targets—and those operations had been performed in cold blood.

  Those were the jobs that had left a dark film of acid over his skin.

  Those were also the jobs that had caused him to question his line of work, to debate leaving the agency. And really, he would have left a long time ago, if not for John and Blue. They’d needed him.

  “What are you doing?” Vika asked, ending the cold-shoulder treatment.

  “Exercising. Getting oxygen to my brain.” And maybe it was working.

  His thoughts suddenly jumped from a curved road to a straight one. So what if he reacted terribly whenever she was hurt? So what if he grew any more attached to her? So what if she wouldn’t be happy with his job situation? No other man had ever kissed her. No other man had ever held her. Solo had been the first. A sense of possessiveness rose up inside him, consuming him.

  Solo would be the only.

  He would have her, he decided, and his motions slowed. He would enjoy her for whatever time they had left in these lands. He would be her man, and she would be his woman.

  His woman. Oh, how he liked the sound of that. He would work to make it so. Whatever proved necessary.

  With the decision, relief filled him, and inside, where instinct swirled, a sudden knowing bloomed. This was right. This was supposed to happen.

  The revelation left him reeling. Used to be, he’d had a knowing each and every day, an internal knowledge that had nothing to do with an external voice. Truth had risen up inside him, urging him to do exactly what he needed to do to survive—and not just to survive, but to thrive. Go here. Don’t go here. Do this. Don’t do this.

  But after too many promptings to do things he hadn’t really wanted to do—turn down a job, stay away from John or Blue for a certain length of time—he’d begun to rationalize. Maybe he had misunderstood, he’d told himself. Maybe he was missing it.

  After he’d ignored one too many knowings, they’d just stopped rising, and he’d had only X to guide him. He’d convinced himself he was happier that way. But he hadn’t been happier. He’d ignored his companion, too, and had made stupid decisions, as evidenced by the explosion in Michael’s office. Well, no more. He wasn’t going to ignore another knowing. Not this time. This was right, and he would win Vika’s trust.

  Before, he had scared her, had pushed for too much too fast. Solo would rather rot in this cage forever than frighten Vika in any way. He never wanted her to look at him as she looked at her father and Matas. He would go slowly this time, would ease her into every new experience.

  And there was no better time to start. He straightened, his gaze locking on his beautiful Vika. Target acquired. Poor darling.

  “What?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably. “Not that I’m speaking to you.”

  Hadn’t ended the cold-shoulder treatment, after all. “I’m thinking.”

  “About?”

  “About our arrangement.” He looked her over, this fairy princess come to save the beast. Blond hair was tangled around a dirt-smudged face. Her hands nervously twisted the fabric of her shirt. He definitely had some preliminary work to do. But . . . he didn’t mind. Was actually thrilled by it.

  He wanted more than sex, he realized.

  He wanted to soothe and comfort her, to talk to and laugh with her. He wanted . . . everything. Her mind, her emotions, her thoughts, hopes and dreams. He wanted to learn about her, every little detail, and tell her about himself. He’d never before had that with a woman.

  He wanted to know about the invisible man she’d mentioned. He’d wanted to question her right away but hadn’t let himself. That line of conversation would invite her to ask about X and Dr. E, and he wasn’t ready to confess. Did she have a protector, like him? Did she have a tormentor?

  “Well,” she huffed, “there’s nothing you can ever say to make me speak to you again.”

  His lips twitched with an amusement that was just as potent as his desire, astonishing him. “I’ll come up with something.”

  “Want to bet?”

  Oh, Vika. You are too adorable for words.

  Now that he’d decided to have her, adorable was no longer such a terrible thing.

  Solo considered his options. Exactly how was a man like him supposed to entice a female? What could he give her that she didn’t already have?

  Well, he could think of one thing she’d probably never received. An apology. Determined, he closed the distance and sat directly in front of her. She refused to meet his gaze. He cupped her cheeks, paused to savor the softness of her skin, then forced her attention on him.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said gruffly. “I would have wanted kisses from you. I still do. You’re a beautiful woman, and I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you, even though you were appointed my keeper.”

  Her eyes grew larger with every word he uttered. “You wanted me, even though I’m—”

  “As small as a twelve-year-old boy? Smart-mouthed? Yes, even though.”

  Expression beseeching, she curled her fingers around his wrist. “Be serious. Even though I’m Jecis’s daughter?”

  Right now, she wasn’t the zoo owner’s daughter. She was Solo’s woman, and nothing else. But just like the physical aspect of their relationship, she wasn’t ready for that kind of boldness or that intense of a possession. So he did the only thing he could. He ignored the question and changed the subject.

  “Just so you know, I’ve won our bet. You’re definitely speaking to me.”

  A moment passed. A soft smile brightened her face. “And you’re forgiven for earlier.”

  “That easily?” Surely not. If she were anything like him, she would keep a checklist of his transgressions, whether he apologized or not. After three, she would wash her hands of him. But then, no one could maintain a relationship when they kept a checklist, could they? The record keeper was always too conscious of the bad to concentrate on the good.

  “You look astounded and suspicious,” she said, that smile widening. She could not be a mere mortal; she just couldn’t be. “I’m not sure why. You used the most pleading tone when you apologized, practically dripping with sincerity. I’m just sure of it.”

  He laughed with hearty amusement, carefree in a way he’d never been, even outside the cage. But the sound cut off abruptly the moment he realized what he was doing, and only the crackling of the fire and the buzzing of the insects could be heard. He’d set out to charm her, but she was the one charming him.

  • • •

  “I want to play a game,” Solo said a little while later. He’d taken a bit of time to try to fortify himself against Vika’s allure, because he’d known he couldn’t dazzle her if he was always being dazzled. He’d thought he was ready.

  “And you always get what you want?” she replied, her nose going in the air.

  He’d thought wrong. “Is this a fit?” he asked, fighting a grin. “This seems like a little-girl-princess fit.”

  She gasped with mock outrage. “How dare you! I do not have little-girl-princess fits!”

  Will not laugh again. He sat across from her, a position
he enjoyed. She was close enough to scent, close enough to touch, but just far enough away that he wasn’t tempted to dive on her—more than a few times. “Tell me. What do you do in your spare time?”

  Her brow furrowed, her mock pique fading. “I don’t understand. What does that matter? What about the game?”

  “We’re playing it right now.”

  “Oh. And it is . . .”

  “The question game.”

  “Oh,” she repeated, still dazed and somewhat confused. “Well, what are the rules?”

  “There’s only one. If I ask a question, you have to answer it.”

  Understanding took hold, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well, good luck. I’m playing to win.”

  “Me too.” And he planned to win more than the game.

  “Toss out question number one, and listen to me dominate.”

  He enjoyed seeing her like this. Excited. Perhaps even happy. “I already did.”

  “What did—oh, yeah.” Toying with the ends of her hair, she said, “On the days I’m forced to remain in my trailer I count my money and plan my future. What about you?”

  He had to force himself to stare at anything but her hands. Her beautiful hands. So gentle. So feminine. Capable of delivering the most undeniable pleasure, he was sure. “I farm.”

  Her mouth formed a large O as her gaze swept over him. “You don’t look like a farmer.”

  Perhaps he shouldn’t stare at her mouth, either. “And you’ve met so many of us?”

  “Well, no.” She lifted to her knees, practically bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Did you notice how quickly I answered that? I’m winning, aren’t I?”

  The muscles in his stomach clenched as he said, “You’re definitely losing, and I’m definitely winning.”

  She frowned, and he had to fight another laugh. “How?” she demanded.

  “The more questions you can get a person to answer, the more points you earn. I’ve asked more questions.”

  Her eyes narrowed, two lasers locked on him. “Perhaps I misunderstood the rules.”

  “That’s understandable. You’re foreign.”

  “But perhaps I didn’t,” she added. “You can’t just change them whenever you want.”