Why the hell did Tamir have a gun hidden inside his bathroom vanity? Despite the heat still radiating from my body, tiny goose bumps perched along the length of my arms. Was it normal for someone who was ex-military to hide guns in their home as though preparing for an invasion? He didn’t seem like one of those radical doomsayers or anything so eccentric, but would I be able to tell if he was?
Mrs. Timmons would swear on her Bible that I was a good girl from California with two loving parents and a thirst for adventure because that was the story I’d told her. Was that all we really knew about the people around us—what they chose to tell us? That was exactly what it meant. So what did that mean for Tamir? Nothing—it meant I knew absolutely nothing about him. One kind deed wasn’t a window into his soul. He could still be just as dangerous as any other man.
One night.
I needed to survive one night in his house, then I was gone. Whatever his backstory was, it didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t be there long enough for it to make a difference. I quickly stood and grabbed my phone before opening the bathroom door. A wall of savory flavors swarmed me, making my stomach growl.
Before I headed for the kitchen, I texted a message to Stephanie.
Me: I’ve been found—someone attacked me tonight. I need help.
Stephanie: Are you ok?
Me: Yes, just scared.
Stephanie: Where are you?
Me: At a friend’s for the night, but I need to leave town.
Stephanie: Of course, let me see what I can come up with.
Me: Thank you!
Stephanie: Meet me at Tops Diner off 280 in Newark. Can you be there tomorrow morning by 7?
Me: No problem, see you then.
Chapter 8
Tamir
“Whatever that is, it smells delicious.” Emily propped herself against the wall, freshly showered and dressed in what appeared to be clean workout clothes.
“Just chicken and rice, nothing extravagant. It’s actually done if you want to have a seat.”
“Before we eat, do you have any antibiotic ointment?” She gestured to a cut on her cheek.
“Of course, let me grab it.” I wiped my hands on a dish towel and slid past where she stood to go back to my room. I kept the first-aid kit in my work duffel bag to make sure it was always with me, just in case things got complicated. I grabbed the tube of ointment and went back to the kitchen, removing the cap while I walked. “Come here.” My voice betrayed me, going gravelly and coarse with the bolt of lust that had assaulted me when I smelled my soap lingering on her skin.
There was something about having your scent on a woman that was beyond gratifying. And someone like Emily, who was wild and unpredictable? It made my inner beast purr with satisfaction.
For that reason alone, I needed to hand her the tube and let her apply the medication herself. Even the smallest of touches was problematic where she was concerned. It was best if I kept my distance, so I told myself to hand over the cream and step back.
Apparently, my superiors had been right.
I was insubordinate and resistant to taking orders.
I ignored myself completely, giving in to the compulsion to breathe her in, to touch her, to feel her. I put a small amount of ointment on my finger and lifted it to her face. She stood just inches from me, so close, I could feel her shaky breaths skate across my forearm as I gently spread the cream on her cheek.
“Any others?”
“No,” she breathed, her eyes catching mine for a long-drawn-out second before she retreated to the kitchen table.
After slipping the tube in my pocket, I retrieved the pans from the stove and put food on both our plates.
“Thanks for cooking. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I got out of the shower and could smell the food.” She dug in the second I sat down and lifted my fork.
“With enough adrenaline coursing through your system, you could have a gunshot wound and not even know it, let alone hunger pangs. It’s a powerful substance.”
Her curious gaze flitted to mine. “Do you know that from personal experience? The part about the gunshot wound?”
“I do.”
“Does that mean you saw active duty?”
“I participated in active missions for about seven years.”
She lowered her water glass from her full lips. “That’s a long time.”
“I’m an old man compared to you.”
She barked out a humorless laugh. “That sounds like a pity party if I’ve ever heard one, and I’ve thrown my fair share.”
“There’s nothing pitiful about it. I was merely pointing out that you’re practically a child, and I’m sure seven years sounds like an eternity to you.” The tension in the room quickly escalated to a stifling degree.
“As someone who’s probably been through some horrible shit, you should understand that age is just a number. Whatever you experienced during active duty would age even the youngest soldier. The same holds true for me. Unless you know what I’ve been through and the things I’ve seen, don’t assume you know me. I haven’t been a child for a very long time.” Her eyes blazed with ferocity. Indignation. Passion. Those were the most words I’d heard out of her mouth at one time, and I wanted to lap up every bit of that emotion and drain her dry until she was languid and lost in my bed.
It was the last place my brain needed to go.
After her outburst, we both ate quietly for long minutes. I attempted to ignore the lascivious voice gaining control in the back of my mine, concentrating on more important things, like the silver watch Emily wore where her sweatband had been. Interesting. Coincidence? Possibly.
She patted her mouth with her napkin when she was done and put her hands in her lap. “That was delicious, thank you. And I meant to tell you earlier, you have a great apartment.”
“It suited all my needs, including a parking spot in the basement garage. That’s not easy to find around here.”
“No kidding! When I first moved, I was stunned at how expensive a freaking parking spot was in the city. Needless to say, I won’t be buying a car.”
“I would get rid of mine, but I travel on occasion, so it’s necessary.”
“Where all have you been?”
“All over the world.”
“Okay,” she said in a sing-song voice. “What’s your favorite place you’ve been?”
“Probably the Swiss Alps in the summer. Everything is green and blooming, and it’s quite breathtaking. What about you?”
She smiled sadly. “I’m afraid I’ve never been much of anywhere. That’s why moving to the city was such a big deal for me. I’d love to travel one day, once I get this mess over with.” Her eyes dropped to her plate, zoning out for a moment before she stood and flashed an empty smile. “I’ll do the dishes. It’s only fair since you cooked.”
I carried my own plate to the sink and helped with the cleanup. I’d been on my own far too long to sit and watch while someone else cleaned my kitchen. We worked companionably, getting the kitchen spotless in a matter of minutes.
“I’d love to offer you a guest bed, but there isn’t one. The couch will have to do. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“Good, then I’ll grab some blankets before I get in the shower, and you can make yourself comfortable.” I brought out all the spare bedding I had, then headed to the shower before I was tempted to do something stupid.
I stripped down and stepped into the battering spray, hoping it would wash away the desire that sparked in my veins every time I got close to Emily. Electric shocks pricked against my skin with the need to touch her. Holding myself back made it infinitely worse. I had needed a minute away from her to rein myself in, but my plan seemed to backfire.
The soothing caress of the water only served to arouse my pulsing lust, rather than douse it. Before long, I had a stranglehold on my cock, stroking myself with white-knuckled need. The need to free myself from my desire. The need to regain my control. The
need to sink myself inside her. All of it collided into a thundercloud of lethal fury and sweltering desire.
Within minutes, my abs clenched and flexed, and my thighs trembled with impending release. Two more bruising pumps of my fist, and cum rocketed out from deep in my balls. The pressure inside me instantly ebbed as endorphins coursed through my veins.
It was my belief that lust was chemical. A simple bodily function that could be controlled without subjecting myself to the cloud of drama involved in being with a woman. In the past, my assertion had held true. I was able to retain control without lust taking over and warping my decisions.
My desire for Emily seemed to be different.
Even a release hardly served to diminish my consuming hunger for her. Within minutes, the pressure coiling my muscles was back and screaming for only one thing, but I refused to give in. Instead, I walked through the litany of reasons being with Emily would be a wretched idea and regained my control by sheer force of will.
Assuaging my growing need drew out my shower longer than I would have liked, especially knowing Emily was unsupervised in my apartment. My gut told me she wasn’t a threat to me—at least, not in a physical sense—but you could never be too careful.
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, noticing Emily had left her bag on the floor tucked between the toilet and the vanity. I wrapped a towel around me and placed her bag on the counter, unzipping the nylon duffel. At the bottom, under her wadded-up, dirty clothes, was a red leather wallet. I immediately examined its contents. Cash and no credit cards, as I’d suspected. A subway MetroCard, a reward punch card for a nail salon, two quarters, and a small key. It looked like it belonged to a lock box. I had no doubt the contents of said box would be interesting, but the key itself did little for me.
I started to close the wallet but decided to do one last search just in case. The credit card slots appeared empty, but this time, I slid my finger in each one and happened to notice a paper tucked inside the top slot. Not just a paper—a photograph. It was a picture of Emily with two small children, all three of them grinning widely, posed in front of a series of brightly colored porch umbrellas by a waterway. The picture might have been a couple of years old, but no more than that. The younger of the two kids was about three and clung to Emily like the two were very close.
Could she have children? She didn’t seem like the type to have left her kids behind, but who knew the exact circumstances. Had she hidden the kids from her ex, and that was why he was after her?
I could spend all night guessing and still never know the truth. It was just another puzzle piece to add to my collection. At some point, it would all form a coherent picture, but for now, I was no closer to an answer than I was when I first discovered she had a bounty on her head.
I could ask her outright. Tell her I had seen the bounty and demand answers, but I could see that conversation devolving quickly. Explaining how I knew about the bounty would be problematic. As I’d already established, people tended to have a visceral reaction to knowing I was an assassin. I was in no real hurry, and it would be best if I got my answers from her naturally. Plus, unfolding her little mystery was the best entertainment I’d had in years—at least, that’s what I told myself. If my reasons for wanting to learn more about her were more personal, I wasn’t ready to admit that fact.
Once I was dried off and dressed, I stopped in the living room to check on her. “You forgot this in the bathroom.”
She jumped up from her seat on the couch, where she’d made a makeshift bed for herself, and took her bag. “Thanks. Don’t want to forget that.” She sounded mildly embarrassed, and her gaze was a feather-light touch as it drifted from my wet hair down my damp chest and beyond.
I’d thought my little shower production had slaked my need, but with one casual perusal, I was right back where I started. Dangerously tempted. Swelling with need.
“I’m going to bed,” I barked. “You need anything?”
“No. Nope. I’m all good. Thanks.” She smiled tightly, and I couldn’t help but notice her nipples straining through her sports bra and thin workout tank.
Fuck me.
Needing to escape, I simply nodded and hurried back to my room, closing myself inside. Tomorrow, I’d get more answers, but for now, I needed a little distance from the sexual siren in my living room.
I had a feeling she was going to be the death of me, one way or another, and I had no one to blame but myself.
Chapter 9
Emily
I set my alarm for three a.m. and turned it to vibrate so it wouldn’t wake Tamir. I thought I would have passed out the minute the lights clicked off, considering everything that had happened that day. Not even close. For nearly two hours, I lay awake as my thoughts danced from one nausea-inducing subject to the next.
Had I been at home, I would have gone straight for the tequila. I wasn’t an alcoholic. I usually only drank, maybe once a week, but in times like these, a girl needed something to take the edge off. It was those precise thoughts, imagining the tang on my tongue and citrus smell biting my nose, that gave me enough reprieve from my worries to send me to sleep.
I got a whopping three hours before the alarm went off. I almost threw the phone across the room in an attempt to stop its vibrations before I remembered why I’d set the damn thing for such an ungodly hour. Once everything came back to me, my sleepiness vanished.
It was time to run.
I hated what I was about to do, but it was by far my best option. Tamir had said he had a car, and I was desperately in need. I wasn’t going to ask him to take his car and risk him saying no, which was what any normal person would say. Stealing his car was my best bet for leaving town quickly without providing my pursuers a trail to follow. It was the worst repayment for his kindness, but I was desperate.
Buses and trains left a paper trail, so I needed a car. Tamir had given me the perfect solution when he mentioned his basement parking spot. I’d get rid of his car once I found an alternative vehicle, so I knew he’d get it back eventually. That thought kept my conscience from judging me too harshly. Skulking out in the night still felt like a slap in the face, but I needed to do this alone. No entanglements. No way to track me down.
Aside from gnawing guilt, my primary problem was finding the car key.
I did a cursory scan of the front door area, but there was no catch-all bowl set out or key ring hook on the wall. If his keys were in his bedroom, I’d have to leave emptyhanded and fall back on a trusty Greyhound, but I would do a thorough search of the kitchen before I accepted that fate.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to look long. Like most people, Tamir had a junk drawer. His was probably far more organized than most, but he had one all the same. Inside was a BMW key fob. Any other time, I would have been thrilled to drive something as luxurious as the car that went with the fancy remote. But in this instance, knowing I was about to steal his car rather than just borrow it, I desperately wished he’d owned a rusty Chevy instead. I would just have to hope that it made it back to him in one piece and that God actually was as forgiving as I thought he was.
I might not have bought into Catholicism anymore, but I still believed in a higher power. A forgiving, kind higher power.
Please, be forgiving.
I made the sign of the cross, just for good measure, and flipped the two deadbolts that locked Tamir’s front door. There was no alarm panel, which seemed odd, but when I opened the door, I was met with silence. I decided to accept my good fortune without question and hurried toward the elevator.
The second I stepped foot outside Tamir’s apartment, my heart began to pound so fast, I could feel it clear down in my toes. Never in all my years had I imagined that one day I’d steal a car. Sure, I’d smoked pot and tagged a few buildings, but I’d never done anything like steal a car. I spent too many years watching people I knew go in and out of jail to walk that same path. I didn’t want that for myself. Yet there I was, about to live my very own v
ersion of Grand Theft Auto.
Sighing heavily, I clicked the car remote to see which vehicle came to life. A black sedan flashed its lights, calling me over like the little devil on my shoulder who encouraged me to do terrible things. I would have given the angel on my opposite shoulder a chance to chime in, but her opinion wasn’t welcome at the moment. Nothing she had to say was going to keep me safe, and that was all that mattered.
Tamir had reversed into the parking spot against the far wall, making my escape that much easier. Within minutes, I was exiting the parking garage and heading to my first stop. Even the city that never sleeps was quiet at that lonely hour. Lights flashed from neon signs, and the occasional car passed by, but it was nothing like the normal frenetic activity of downtown Manhattan.
I parked at the local post office and took out the key that was tucked in my wallet. Once inside, I bought a stamp and an envelope from a vending machine, then penned a short note to Grace. She would still worry, but far less now than if I’d disappeared without a trace.
Next, I located my post office box and retrieved the go bag I kept there for just this type of emergency. I had a bag in my apartment as well, but I’d prepared this one just in case I couldn’t get back to my place.
I’d never been so glad for an overactive imagination and a stout case of paranoia.
I left the key inside the box, hoping an employee would eventually find it, and ran back to the car. It took about an hour to drive out of the city and to the diner in Newark, leaving two whole hours until my scheduled meeting with Stephanie. I could either nap in the car or drive around and keep myself occupied until seven. As much as I needed to rest, I was too wired to close my eyes, so I drove. And drove. And drove.
A two-hour drive was nothing back where I was from, but considering the stress I was under and the fact that I hadn’t been behind the wheel in nearly six months, it felt like an eternity. As I drove, equal parts relief and shame formed a numbing cocktail in the pit of my stomach. I was glad to have gotten away, but disappointed about how it had to be done.
Where Loyalties Lie Page 7
