by Nicole Fox
Last night I had a dream that we got away from all this.
We lived together in some farmhouse way outside of the city. She spent all her time working on her books. I was in the fields, tending to all our animals. We had a peaceful life. The thought of me giving up this life to become a fucking farmer is hilarious to me, but I can’t lie and say I didn’t like the simplicity.
I liked the fact that there were no shady men looming over me, sending me on missions to take out people they don’t like. There was no killing, no drugging, no disposing of bodies. When I finished tending to the animals, I went back to the house and Lucy and I had sex. She whispered in my ear that she wanted to start a family with me.
Then I woke up.
Part of me was relieved, but another part was pissed. I wouldn’t ever say it out loud, but I wonder. What would happen if that dream became a reality? Would it satisfy me the way working for Mr. X does? Could we really make a simple life like that work out?
I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I don’t have time to wonder about these things. We’re close to getting Konstantin. I can feel it. With all the information that Lucy’s told me, I have his entire schedule mapped out. Now it’s just a matter of picking the perfect time to inject him and get him in the car.
I pull into the garage and climb out of the car twenty minutes later. The house is silent. For a minute, I’m sure she did leave. Then I find her sitting in the living room, knees drawn to her chest, writing on a legal pad. I don’t keep technology around the house, outside of my phone, but she insisted I get her some way to write.
There’s something beautiful about the way she looks right now. She’s lost in whatever world she’s created. She doesn’t look concerned about Konstantin or her grandmother or anything. She looks happy. That sinking feeling comes back to me, only this time, it’s different.
The more time I spend around her, the closer I feel, and that can’t happen. If it does, that means it’ll hurt more when we eventually part ways. My rules are in place for a reason, and I can’t go breaking them. Keep it simple. Lucy helps me with Konstantin, I kill him, and we never speak to each other again.
The hard part is convincing my body of this plan. Seeing her in her element stirs something inside of me that’s more than just arousal. I’m not giving it a name. I’m not letting it be valid. Swallowing down that feeling, I step into the living room. She looks up at me and puts down her paper and pencil.
“That took longer than you said,” she remarks, standing up. She’s changed out of her workout gear and is now in a pair of shorts and a tank top.
“Sorry,” I shrug.
She glares at me, then smiles. “Lucky for you, I had a stroke of genius.”
“Did you now?”
“Yup!”
Lucy goes into great detail about a plot point that she worked her way through. After struggling with it for days, she finally figured out how to get out of the hole she’d written herself into. She won’t let me read any of her work, but from the sound of it, it’s probably something I’d be interested in reading. Sex, murder, and a dark underworld in a city most people think is lighthearted and scandal-free. Right up my alley.
I try to listen, but I don’t exactly know everything she’s talking about. Still, it’s nice just listening to her go on and on. When she gets this excited, the last thing I want to do is cut her off. I like the way she talks. I like how animated she gets, talking with her hands, her eyes growing wider and wider. Finally, when she finishes her story, she hops up from the couch.
“You still owe me my prize.” Lucy steps up to me and gives me a push, towards the backyard.
“You want it out there?” I ask.
“That’s where we started. I want to finish it there.”
I don’t argue with her. Instead, I pull her close to me and kiss her hard. We move backwards at the same time, stepping into the grass. Without warning, Lucy does the same maneuver as before and sends me sprawling on my back. That’s twice in one day, I note. She’s getting too good at this. I need to keep my guard up around her.
She stands above me, slowly unbuttoning her shorts and pulling them off. She steps out of them, and I get a glimpse of her body. She’s not wearing anything underneath. When she climbs on top of me, she doesn’t stop to sit in my lap. Instead, she moves higher until she’s right on my face.
I don’t need any further instructions. I grab her hips and tug her down, tasting her. Lucy lets out a moan as I flick my tongue over the folds of her skin. My movements are slow at first. I want to tease her. Make her practically beg me to grant her some relief. Rather than diving right in, I kiss at her inner thighs, nipping with my teeth every now and then. I run my nose against her, inhaling the delicious scent of her body.
“Yes,” she purrs, rolling her hips with me.
Finally, I lap at her hungrily, working my tongue against her pussy with skill. Her eyes squeeze tight and she bites down on her bottom lip, riding me faster. I let a hand slide up her thighs and over to her clit, where I rub circles. Her head falls back, mouth wide open, her long blonde hair brushing against her lower back.
My cock aches in my pants, but I don’t even consider taking care of it. Right now, this is what I want. I want her to come undone. I want her to lose her goddamn mind with my tongue between her legs. I don’t plan on stopping until she’s trembling, putty in my hands.
“Fuck, Roman,” she whimpers, reaching for my free hand. She laces her fingers through mine and squeezes tight. I smirk with satisfaction, but I never pull away to speak. I bury my tongue inside of her, deep, tasting every last inch I can. Lucy’s hips move in a flurry and she grinds against me like it’s the last thing she might ever do.
“I—I’m close,” she manages to get out.
I slip my hand free from hers and grab her breast, twisting her nipple firmly. It hardens almost instantly, and following that, she begins a continuous moan. She slides against my face without stopping, and when I feel her thighs quiver and tighten around my head, I know she’s there. She comes hard, crying out in pleasure. I soak up every sound, cruel with the way my tongue strokes her clit.
She finally rolls onto her back, tired, but I’m only just getting started. There are no breaks with me. I’ve wanted her every single night since we’ve been here, and I’m going to take her. Without missing a beat, I unzip my pants and free myself from the confines. I stroke my cock a few times, working myself in my palm.
I press the tip against Lucy’s entrance, feeling the impossible heat send shivers down my spine. With one slow, long push, I bury myself inside of her pussy, up to the hilt of my erection. Her eyes flutter shut, and she takes in a sharp breath, releasing it as a moan between her teeth. There’s something unspeakably sexy about see this transformation. Lucy from the living room, writing on that legal pad, is now this sex kitten practically mewling for me in the backyard.
I work up a steady pace at first, pulling my hips back and then thrusting forward, filling her again. Her body grows more and more relaxed. She stares up at me with a devilish look in her eye, something that looks so out of place and also right where it belongs with her.
She’s gonna be the fucking death of me, I swear.
I take hold of her hips and begin jerking her towards me as I push forward, fucking her faster than before. A deep, animalistic groan rumbles in my throat, and I let it free, burying my face in the crook of her neck. There, I can feel her pulse, taste as it beats a thousand times a minute. Lucy wraps her legs around my waist, and soon I have little room to move.
I make do with it, my thrusts becoming shorter and quicker. Our bodies connect again and again. I feel her walls constricting around me and it sends chills through me. Fuck, everything she does has that effect on me.
I’m going to lose my goddamn mind with this woman, and I don’t even care. She makes the idea of being distracted sound like the only thing in the world that I want.
With short, sudden bursts of energy, I p
ound into her, eliciting quicker noises from her throat. She turns her head and kisses me, and that’s when I feel the heat building in my stomach. Her tongue glides over mine, and it’s just the two of us. She’s the only thing that matters.
I come harder than I have in months. I fill her in a frenzy, grinding against her, burying every last inch I can inside of her. Her hold on me doesn’t loosen once. She keeps me firmly against her, helping me ride that wave.
I don’t want to pull out of her.
I want to lie here in the grass until I’m hard and ready for another round.
Lucy makes me want to do the dumbest shit, but I can’t find it in me to complain. When I go soft and slip free, I roll onto my back and pull her into my arms. This is so fucked. I’m so fucked. Every time this happens, I realize that I’m sinking deeper and deeper into this trap.
This is why I should’ve never gone this far with her. This is why I have these rules. I start to scold myself when she tilts her head and looks up at me. There’s a warm flush of pink on her cheeks, and her smile is radiant. She looks fucking beautiful.
The killer instinct I’ve developed is wary. Anything so beautiful that’s attracted to me must be dangerous. Anything that makes me consider giving up everything should repel me. Instead, she makes me want more. She’s addictive, like my new favorite drug. I need to get a fucking grip.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
For one delusional moment, I consider telling her all of this.
If I’m honest, maybe it’ll scare her away. She’ll see that I’m not the kind of guy she belongs with. Anyone that considers her a trap should turn her off completely. But the idea of her being hurt by saying that doesn’t sit right with me. It makes me feel guilty for even considering it.
Guilt is an emotion I thought I killed after taking out Aleksandr and Andrei. If I’m feeling it now, maybe I’m not as emotionless as I thought. Maybe I need to really cut deep and end things while there’s still time.
Lucy looks up at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“Nothing is wrong,” I reply, running a hand over her face. It’s a lie, but she deserves to be spared. She’s already been through hell because of me. This is one mercy I can give her for now.
Chapter Twelve
Roman
Things with Lucy have become so domesticated. It’s a foreign concept for me. My whole life, I grew up on my own. Nobody to look after me, nobody to just be there. Aside from just seeing my family every day, this was the one thing I missed the most. I missed knowing that if I ever needed something, I’d have someone willing to help.
Lucy has become that person.
In the mornings, she wakes up earlier than me. There’s a pot of coffee on, and breakfast is on the table. I never have to think about what I’m going to eat because she has it covered. We’ve worked up that kind of rhythm, and it’s surprisingly nice getting used to it. I try hard to hate it, to put myself off it so I don’t become accustomed, but I can’t.
After breakfast, she writes, and I work out. This is our routine. It’s dependable. I don’t wonder where she is or if she’s safe because I know that she is.
But the part I like the most about these few weeks spent with her at the safe house is dinner.
We cook together. Lucy tells me all about how her grandmother used to be an amazing cook and that she learned everything from the woman. She’s too old to take care of herself now, so Lucy had to pick up the recipe book and keep the wheels turning. Here at the safe house, she’s brought some of the best recipes with her.
Tonight, we make honey-baked salmon, baked green beans, and a side salad with a sesame seed dressing. I don’t say anything, but I’m kind of embarrassed that I’ve never had anything this nice. Before Lucy, I ate to stay alive. I didn’t find anything particularly special about dinner. A slab of steak and something green, all seasoned lightly, was enough to get me through the evening. But now that she’s introduced me to newer ingredients and flavors, I might be hooked.
“That’s probably gonna be super spicy,” she notes, glancing at the crushed red pepper I sprinkle on my salmon filet.
“I like spicy,” I smirk.
“Fair enough. Don’t let me yuck your yum.” Once we’re finished seasoning everything, she puts it in the oven and gets started on mixing the drinks. Since we’ve been here three weeks, she decided that she wanted to do something special and make cocktails for us. Same as my food, I usually drink liquor straight. I don’t need any frilly things to make it tolerable. I’m not drinking for flavor, after all.
But again, I relent, letting her have her way. It seems to be something that makes her happy, and I’m happy to provide. She’s good at this anyway. As she flits around the kitchen preparing the drinks, I sit back in my chair and nurse my glass of water. It’s a big mistake, but I know that I could get used to this.
Unfortunately, after tomorrow, there won’t be this anymore.
“I’m thinking we’ll get started at dawn,” I say. She continues to mix a pitcher of juice and alcohol when she turns to look at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I looked over everything, and tomorrow morning, we’ll head out to get Konstantin.”
A look of anticipation crosses her face. Her eyes light up excitedly. “Really?”
“Really.”
I went over everything we’d need, and we have it. All the supplies are packed up and ready to go, I know exactly where Konstantin will be tomorrow, and soon, this will all be over. It’s a blessing and a curse. Spending another day here only to never see Lucy again sounds unbearable, but I know it’s for the best.
My biggest mistake was not pawning her off weeks ago. If I had, I could’ve saved her plenty of heartbreak after this is all over. Konstantin would be dead and I’d be back at the warehouse, taking another assignment from Mr. X. She’d be off somewhere working on her book and taking care of her grandmother. Our lives would be normal. Being able to get back to my normal self is why it’s a blessing.
It’s a curse because I know that Lucy has wormed her way into my heart. It almost makes me sick to say this, because it goes against everything I told myself to do. Never catch feelings for someone. Never develop a bond. Having bonds makes you weaker. It makes it easier for enemies to take advantage of your weakness. And in this line of business, the people you care about are always in danger.
I’m a fucking fool for letting it go this far, so now I have to fix it.
I can already see how mad she’ll be when I tell her that we can’t do this anymore. That defiant look will take over her face, and she’ll probably curse me out the same way she did at the diner. I’ll deserve it, too. I fucked up by letting her get close to me only to push her away at the end. It’s a lesson I’ll keep in mind the next time I ever decide not to work solo on an assignment like this.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Roman,” she sighs, placing ice cubes into the pitcher. “Can I be there when you do it?”
“Of course,” I say. “But I don’t want you doing anything until I grab him. I don’t need you in danger. When I get him tied up at the location, you can be there to watch.”
Is it sick to say that it will be a bonding moment for us? I know how desperate she is to see Abram Konstantin pay for what he did to his family, and I want to help her find that momentary peace. If I had someone to help me get my uncles, it would’ve gone much smoother.
“Good,” she says, smiling softly. Even when she’s thinking about murder, the woman is adorable. I don’t know how she does it. I don’t want her to stop, either.
While we eat, she tells me more about her book and all the progress she’s made. She’s just wrapping up act two, and the heroine of the story is facing her toughest battle yet. I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about, but I’m almost tempted to grab one of the legal pads and read over it. She spends hours at a time writing on those things. Her creativity is something else that I enjoy about her.
&nbs
p; Where most people struggle to see the bigger picture, Lucy has no trouble with it. When she writes, she looks outside of just what’s happening right then. She tells me all the time that she can’t start a book until she knows the ending. She needs to know the end before she knows the beginning. That’s another thing I like about her. She’s a planner, just like me.
***
After dinner, Lucy and I wash dishes and she heads out to work on her self-defense techniques. I’m tempted to watch, but I need time to get away. I have to clear my head. I tell her I’m going for a drive.
In the car, I turn on the radio, hoping to drown out my thoughts. This is too much. She can feel it and I can feel it. I’m starting to care for this girl in more ways than just sexual. I’ve gone soft. The old me would’ve kicked my ass for even thinking about spending more than a night with someone like Lucy, but here I am.
I’m a dumbass.
On the ride back, I go over the plan again. Wait outside Konstantin’s office building. Stick him with the needle. Transport him to the car. Get him to the safe house. Finish him off there. It’s simple and easy. Nobody will see more than they should, and I won’t have another situation like Lucy. No witnesses this time. I don’t know what my next assignment after this will be, but I hope it’s something less complicated. Something where I don’t consider giving up my job. Not that Mr. X would even let me do something like that.
Ever since I met him, he made it very clear that he was interested in my talents, and he didn’t have any problem doing whatever it took to make sure I worked for him.
Somehow, he knew about Andrei and Aleksandr. He knew what they’d done. He knew what I’d done. I don’t know how or why he had that information, just that he did, and he used it to make me do whatever he wanted. He let me know of this in a church confessional years ago.
The meeting was set up by a mutual contact. I’d done a few assignments for Lana, the sole heiress of her father’s multimillion-dollar company, and when she was done having me clean up the mess of investors that wanted to pull their funding because she was a woman, she set me up with Mr. X.
