Assassin by Day

by Tessa Robertson

  I pour a cup for myself and sense his eyes on me as I work. Sneaking a glance to him, I regret it when I meet his gray gaze. It seizes my breath, which causes me to drop the connection.

  Just a hint of my past and the dark circumstances of my fiancé’s death would get rid of him before he could pull his boots on. I decide against it each time. Having someone keep me company persuades me to keep him around for amusement sake. I keep telling myself this. Thus far, it hasn’t sunk in.

  I carry the teacups the short distance to the couch where Dylan lounges. “Here,” I state, handing the cup to him. My hand twitches. Fucking hand. Stop it! Even being close to this sexicle disrupts my nerves. And yes, he is a sex popsicle. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.

  He beams, displaying white teeth beneath his bearded mouth. “Thanks, Rory.” His fingers brush mine as he accepts the hot cup with care.

  The way he says my name makes me cringe and rejoice. Sure, it’s my middle name, but it’s not my name. I sit on the loveseat opposite him and silence settles around us. The fire crackles in the corner and all I want to do is curl up in front of it until my frozen life thaws. While he sips the chai, I warm my fingers by wrapping them around the mug.

  A minute passes, and I keep my eyes downcast. He’s staring at me. I feel his heated gaze. This is how most our tea times wind up. Awkward gawking, chit chat and tea. More than once, I nearly chucked the cups to maul him.

  Obviously, I never acted on those urges. That’d be dumb. I bite my lower lip. But fun. Having his coarse beard tickle my face while I kiss him. I can only imagine how it’d feel in my southern regions. I cross my legs the more I imagine. Shit, I need to stop. I’m turning myself on for the umpteenth time since meeting him.

  “Can you stop?” His voice is laced with humor, and I peer over to him. His cup is empty and sitting on the side table. When did he chug that? Dylan’s bearded mouth is curved in a smile and he’s playing with his sleeve.

  “Stop what?” I like hearing his rich, baritone voice, so I make him speak every chance I find.

  “Stop biting your lip.”

  I instinctively do it again and watch as his eyes fasten to me. Slowly, I release my lip, but the tension in his eyes doesn’t lessen.

  “It makes me want to taste for myself,” he gruffly finishes.

  I swing my eyes away in surprise. He’s never crossed the invisible line until now. We’ve danced along it, but I always imagined I’d hurdle the barrier before him.

  My hand shakes more now, so I set the rattling cup down before I spill the remnants. “Sorry.”

  If he’s waiting for me to hop on his lap, it’s going to be a long night. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. I meet his gaze and my throat dries. Okay, maybe it’ll happen if he keeps looking at me like that. His blue-gray eyes beckon me to him. They demand I move. I can’t disobey those urging jewels, so I grab my teacup and hurry to the kitchen. I hear a frustrated sigh from him, but attempt to ignore it. Even his sigh is sexy. Fuck my life!

  I place the mug in the sink. Staring at the patterned backsplash, I realize I can’t stay in here the rest of the night. That’d be more awkward than the current moment. Accepting my defeat, I head to the living room and reach for his cup.

  He observes in silence as I retrieve it. I’m so done with this interaction and it only began. I wish Nickolas was here to save me from myself. I don’t know how much longer I can abstain from sex. I’m trying, honest, I am.

  I watch Dylan from the sanctity of the kitchen. It’d be easy to shove him down and have my way with him. He wants me. He all but said so moments ago, but something holds him back too. My something? Oh, just Nickolas. And Eddie. Shit! How could I overlook him? Clearly, he can’t forget me, so why is he so forgettable?

  Dylan’s cell phone rings from his coat and he turns toward the door. Without a word, he snags the mobile and scans the number. “I need to take this,” he informs robotically.

  I nod and my curious eyes follow as he disappears through the door. Creeping over, I catch the knob before it latches shut. Peeking out of the slit, I see he didn’t go far. Dylan remains on the top of the steps as he presses the phone to his ear. He’s not saying a word, listening instead. Who the hell is he talking to? I wonder as he scans the library below.

  “Yes, the residents are eager. I’ll make sure the city is ready for your arrival, Mayor,” Dylan utters before disconnecting.

  So, he’s talking to the mayor, huh? It doesn’t surprise me since the tall oaf is the town’s handyman. Stumbling back, I toy with the cup in my hands as he makes his entrance.

  “Thanks for the tea, but I should get going. I have a lot to do before the mayor returns.” Dylan informs, snagging his coat.

  Witnessing him cover up dampens my mood. I like when he takes the clothes off better. “Okay, sure. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Dylan yanks on his boots then stands to his full height. “I don’t know if I’ll be around much once the mayor arrives. He’ll need a lot of my attention.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You and the mayor are buddies?”

  “Something like that.” He pulls the door open. “I’m not supposed to get involved with the townsfolk. He won’t like that I’ve been meeting with you.”

  Unsure if he’s genuinely talking about the ‘mayor’ or about someone else entirely, I dislike the idea of his absence. He’s my eye candy who keeps me from grabbing an attractive man and taking advantage of him. I’m used to killing people goddammit and sex, so much sex, but here I am looking forward to conversations with a man who wants me but doesn’t act on it.

  “All right, but maybe try to sneak away,” I suggest then curse myself for stooping to groveling. Fuck you, Nickolas.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Standing in the doorway, he jerks his chin up. “Later.”

  Once his footsteps echo down the steps, I let out a string of profanities in Russian. I miss speaking my native tongue on a regular basis. I can only talk to myself so much before I go crazy.

  Alone again, I relinquish the dishes to the soapy water. I don’t want to do anything except sleep until I’m whisked away from this hell hole. If only it was so simple.

  Chapter Nine

  All this alone time hasn’t been the best on my psyche. I’m beginning to think rationally about my next twenty years, and it feels weird. The reason I thrive is because I’m a fighter. I’ll endure this temporary location. My vendetta and subsequent coercions depend on my stamina.

  I hoped to move on after Alexei’s death. It’s what normal people do. I think we’ve established that I’ll never be the definition of normalcy. I miss my brute of a fiancé some days. His attentions, though horrific, were better than none. If men in general could just fuck off that’d be great. I’d rather use them for their goods then swat their asses on the way out my door. Sex with no strings is idyllic, but I don’t function that way. Not entirely.

  Dammit, I try to resist the urge to let men under my skin, but it’s pointless. I look for love in all the wrong places. I smirk as the automatic Star Wars joke filters through my mind.

  Lifting my eyes, I assess the empty bookshop. “And look where love sent me this time.” Alone in a room filled to the brim with books.

  I’ll make stagnante work in my love life. It’s all I can afford. Enduring a relentless, passionate relationship won’t end well with me involved. I’m too cautious to get attached then abandoned. It’s happened enough for two lifetimes.

  Shit! I think I just accepted an invitation to a party. I glance at the letter in my hands. It’s an invite to a Valentine’s Day celebration.

  “I told them I’d come.”

  Honestly, I don’t remember talking to the diner’s owner about it yesterday, but in my hands, I hold the party information. “Fanfuckingtastic.” I chuck the paper into the garbage bin.

  Contemplating attending the soiree, I envision the other partygoers. No doubt, Dylan will be in attendance. Ah, fuck. He’s
trouble, but not the bad kind your mother warns you about. He’s the good kind of trouble that leaves you quaking in need after one kiss.

  With my mind swirling around Dylan, I check-in the recently returned books. It’s an old system, one without computer access. That’d make it too simple.

  Gruffly, I stamp the return date into the hardcover in my hands. Life in Verde is mundane, not that it’ll ever be anything else.

  “Morning, Rory!” A voice calls as I angrily chuck another book into the makeshift pile.

  His presence catapults the stamp in my hand. Cautiously, I raise my eyes to my one consistent visitor.

  “Dylan,” I hail, blindly searching for the missing device.

  I can’t help but glue my vision to his smooth movements towards me. Pushing up his wool cap, he grins at my desk.

  “I see you’ve had some business. I was a little worried when no one came in. I thought you might be scaring them off.”

  “Yeah, like I could do that,” I mumble sarcastically. I tried to scare off the locals when I first arrived. It worked for a whole week before the loneliness set in.

  Since my reckoning, I’ve been nice-ish to the people who barrel through the doors. I have a television that only plays VHS tapes and the selection is limited. The common folk offered an escape, as temporary as they may be.

  “Here ya go. I think you dropped this.” Dylan holds out the stamp to me as an offering. I’d prefer a sacrificial one that included his body to feast my eyes on, but I suppose this will do.

  Snatching the worn item from his palm, I continue to etch the dates into books. “Marvelous, now I can get back to work.”

  From the corner of my eye, I notice Dylan tug off his hat completely. The temptation to sneak a peek at his disobedient hair unhinges me. He’s subtly sexy. I swear it’s the most orgasmic type of sexy out there.

  “Are you going to the Valentine’s party at the diner tomorrow?” he asks, skirting my icy answer.

  “Why the hell would I? So I can watch lovebirds fawn over each other? Fuck no,” I quip back without a filter. My eyes widen when he chuckles in response.

  “Yeah, I agree. It’d be more fun to stay inside and watch a fire burn.” He sits on my desk, obscuring my view of the novels. “Know anyone else who’d rather do that?”

  From the time I met this blue-eyed wonder, I had an instant liking to him. We have an odd kinship, one where I want to lick his face then shove it in the snow.

  “I may,” I finally answer, propelling the book at his thigh. He doesn’t move. Jackass.

  “All right, well I’ll be over tomorrow to see if anyone is interested in a roaring fire.” He glances at the book I failed to impale him with.

  “Don’t expect any singing of kumbaya,” I warn when he picks up the weapon of no destruction.

  Leaning over the desk, Dylan’s hearty scent fills my nose. “Great, then I’ll look forward to s’mores and tea.”

  I hold in a smirk. He’s almost as annoying as Nickolas when it comes to innuendos, but Dylan hasn’t made an outright move. Shocking, I know. I’m a freaking catch.

  “I’d rather chop wood in negative twenty degrees during a snowstorm tornado.”

  I stand but Dylan is quickly there, blocking my way to return the book in my hands to its resting place.

  “Darts, it is.” His blue eyes laced with silver travel down my body before he returns to my face. “See you tomorrow.”

  If I wanted to resist his swaying backside, I was in the wrong location. Wrangler jeans were made for his ass. I’m positive no jeans would look better, but that’s not my concern. As much as I want to cut his clothes off his muscled biceps with one of my daggers, I refrain. He’s all I can rely on in Verde.

  My mouth dries when he offers me a coy wink before exiting the building. “Holy fuck.” I need to talk to Nickolas and fast. Unless he’s going to get his Russian ass over here, my release won’t be done at his hand.

  ***

  Another day in snow greets me. If I wanted to stay bundled up inside, I would’ve gone to Moscow with Nickolas. Tapping my pen on the desk, I survey the lone book connoisseur as she rakes over the science fiction books. I don’t care to know her name. It doesn’t matter in the long run. I won’t remember.

  My phone vibrates from my hooded sweatshirt. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” I call to the snow bunny before making my escape. The intoxicating winter air hits my face when I step outside.

  “You better be half way to Denver,” I begin. The Russian sounds distant to my ears, but fulfilling nonetheless.

  “Mishka, your voice is good to hear,” Nickolas replies. “I wish I was on my way, but I’m not.”

  “It’s been three months,” I complain, shivering. I should’ve grabbed a scarf or something.

  “I know and I’m sorry. The counsel is reluctant to forgive your transgression.” His voice cuts out and a train whistle echoes in my ear.

  “Are you still in Moscow?” I ask, perturbed. I should be sipping pina coladas and eating queso dip, not freezing my ass off in Colorado.

  “Yes, but I’m leaving tomorrow, I swear.” A horn blast erupts into my eardrum.

  If it didn’t hurt so much I’d scream at him. Hearing his cursing from the other side, I opt against it. He’s attempting to save my life, the least I can do is not yell at him. Somehow, it comforts me to know he isn’t anywhere nearby.

  Pulling the hood over my head, I huddle to the base of the building. “Nickolas, you need to get me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

  A ragged sigh skitters across the line. “I know. It’s been too long.”

  I await more words, but am disappointed. Huffing, I ignore the cloud my breath creates. I want to ask about Eddie, but now isn’t the time.

  Switching gears, I lick my lips. “Would you be mad if I divulged a little?”

  Another sigh meets my ears. “Do what you need to, but don’t forget your promise.”

  Yeah, I kinda, sorta, maybe promised to marry him. I stomp my feet on the sidewalk to warm up my legs. I keep forgetting. Damn. It happened after we had one last goodbye fuck. I mean, there’s no ring. Not that there was with Alexei either, but a ring solidifies it for me.

  “I haven’t.” I dig my nails into my nearly frozen palms.

  “Just don’t fall in love with him, okay?” Nickolas pleads at long last. “I don’t want to have to kill someone the instant I get back.”

  The humor in his voice makes me grin. Despite all the miles between us, he’s got an odd hold on me. “I can’t love. You know that.”

  “Uh huh, sure you can’t.”

  I smirk behind my hand. Fuck him for making me feel. I would’ve been fine if not for Nickolas. Even as my extortionist, I can’t help but be drawn to him.

  A truck drives by me at a slow pace. Without a doubt, someone is checking up on me. I turn my face away so no words can be deciphered. “I’ve gotta go. Come get me.”

  “As soon as I can, my love.”

  His sign off rings in my ears even as I return to the warmth of the library bookstore. The book nerd is here somewhere. I hear her heavy, asthmatic breathing. Dust and asthma don’t mix well, but I’m a killer not a doctor.

  Cradling the phone to its spot in my desk drawer, I rehash the conversation. Nickolas gave me permission to screw another guy. Wow, he’s an awesome almost-fiancé.

  Rubbing my hands together maniacally, I wonder how I’ll get my fix. It’s my habit, sex, and I’m in dire need of a hit.

  The sound of the snow blower meets my ears. Hmm, yes, he’ll work. As bad as I feel about hiding in Colorado and fucking a random stranger, it’s nothing compared to how horrible I feel about leaving Eddie hanging in the void. He deserves to hear I’m alive and in control of my destiny. I harrumph. I’m in no more control than he is. For right now, there is one facet of my life I can control. Sex. Bring it.

  ***

  Briskly rubbing my hands over my arms, I think back to a time when I lived in a place tha
t didn’t have a fritzy heater. Shoving books onto the shelf, I listen as Dylan tinkers on the pipes. I don’t know where the bearded wonder got his plumbing degree, but it sure wasn’t accredited. This is the third time the heater has shut down completely.

  Replacing a Charles Dickens book to the bookcase, I hear a string of curses echo through the high ceiling. A smirk plays my face. I like the way Dylan cusses almost as much as I like to watch him bend over and pick up tools.

  Verde may not have a gym, but the handyman sure self-motivates to form sculpted muscles. When I first arrived, I saw him run the city length. No doubt, he does more than that to keep his body in exquisite shape.

  A sizzle whizzes through the air and I check over my shoulder. Dylan yells something about the pipe bursting, so I chuckle. No intruders, just a man’s attempts of helping me.

  After three months, I would welcome some enemy action. My hands itch to use my daggers. Sure, I hone my talent by chucking them into my closet wall, but it’s not the same as human flesh. I close my eyes and imagine doing exactly that. God, it sounds orgasmic.

  “I think it’s fixed,” Dylan’s voice cuts into my mindgasm, “for now.”

  Popping my eyelids open, I notice he’s leaning against one of the anchored bookshelves. He’s smarter than the average Colorado native, I’ll give him that. “So, other than the profanities, it’s going to work?”

  Dylan chuckles and shrugs. “Momentarily, the heater works. I need a couple of parts to completely resolve the issues.”

  Dropping the remaining books onto an empty shelf, I straighten my sweater. “All right, well then, thanks. I’ll see you later.”

  I expect him to leave. Maybe hustle down to the hardware store and conjure up those items so I’m no longer an icicle. Nope, he simply stands there with his lumberjack shirt untucked from his black jeans as his gray gaze drifts over me. It’s one of those that dries your mouth and makes your tongue swell.

  “Or I could see you now.”

  Resting his arm on a lower shelf, Dylan’s broad chest is sinful as I salivate at the sight of him. He’s my sole choice to help me out of my sexless rut. The hunky ice man is fair game thanks to Nickolas’s sanction.