THE RAIN WAS

thick this morning and I had to fight my urge to stay in bed and sleep away the day. I was trying to go to the gym every morning, but perhaps it would be good to break that routine, too. Of course, I’d started working out every day so I would take better care of myself, which wasn’t really a habit that I should break. Or should I? I could try.

I rolled over and squished my pillow into a comfortable shape but couldn’t go back to sleep. I tried to remind my body that it was still early back home and that sleeping in would be understandable, but it wasn’t working. My internal clock was all over the place.

Sighing, I gave up and headed for the shower. The shower was nice, large, with a special nozzle that was supposed to simulate rain. In fact, everything in Danny’s place was nice. Fancy stove, expensive American style refrigerator, and art work that made me drool. Not to mention the apartment—flat—itself was in one of the most expensive buildings in the neighborhood. I hadn’t thought a contractor would be able to afford something like this, but maybe his job explained his expensive taste. Or, more likely, he got all of his expensive fixtures at a discount.

Unimpressed with the weather, I sat down at the table and looked at Mr. Green the Plant. “So far England is amazing. Everything has this undertone of history mixed with modern technology. But the rain? Every day. Every. Day. What’s up with that?”

I didn’t wait for the answer that would never come and thought about my options. Not exactly a great day to go exploring. I could hit up the coffee shop and stop by the store across the street to stock up on ingredients for one of the new recipes I wanted to try. That would keep me busy, at least, and somewhat dry.

As I got dressed, I noticed my phone flashing on the night stand. Thinking it might be Tess checking in, I grabbed it and waited for the voice mail.

“Ms. McKenzie, I’m calling from The Studio on Fourth about our open position. I know it’s last minute, but we had a cancellation this morning and would like you to come in for an interview. We look forward to speaking with you at eight.”

“Holy shit!” I scrambled around for something to write their address on and shut the phone off. I never thought I’d get an interview with that designer. An interview. In less than an hour. This could be my chance to stop answering phones and finally start using my art degree. “Oh, shit.”

I looked out the window and groaned. I’d have to drive. There was no way I’d be able to get there on public transit in time. The thought made my stomach clench and I debated not going at all. The new me, the try-everything, give-everything-a-shot-me, put her foot down. I couldn’t miss out on the chance to have job and a reason to stay in exciting London. I had to try.

I searched the closet for something suitable to wear and threw on a dark dress suit before pulling my hair up into a bun. Dumping my jewelry bag out on the bed, I chose large teal earrings and a chunky necklace. Designing jewelry was my passion and I wanted to wear pieces that would show off my skills.

I glanced in the mirror briefly and hurried out the door before realizing I’d left my phone and needed to go back inside for it. I locked the door again and made it halfway down the hall before I remembered I’d left the address on the table.

“Fuck me!” I said just as one of the other tenants opened their door. I frowned at the little old man staring at me. “Excuse me.”

“I’ll take the first option.” He cackled and I felt my face flush.

“Not really up for consideration.” I hurried past him, ignoring the leer he directed at me.

“Then don’t offer!” He slammed the door and I fought the urge to shoot him the bird. Grumpy old cuss. Grumpy, old, perverted cuss.

If this morning was any indication of how this interview would go, I was already screwed six ways to Sunday. By the time I made it to the garage, I was a complete mess. My stomach was in knots. The rain had started again and I could hear it pounding away outside. Driving would be a nightmare and I was already nervous about the interview.

I made my way to the car and pressed the unlock key. I was halfway into the seat before I realized I was on the wrong side.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Will anything go right today?” I got out and stomped around to the other side. “Stupid ass car with the steering wheel on the wrong damn side.” I muttered under my breath as I climbed in, situating my stuff and taking a deep breath. I clenched the steering wheel as my stomach knotted even tighter.

Something dark fluttered beside my car, like a shadow shifting feet. I leaned forward and looked around. Nothing. There was nothing there and I was stalling.

“I can do this.” I could do this. I was going to drive all the way to this interview and then kick ass. It was going to be good. English driving had to be better the second time around, right? I’d have picked up some stuff. I shouldn’t be so afraid.

I put the car in reverse, my eyes on the rear view mirror, and reached down to turn on the GPS. Someone shouted as I slid out of the spot and I slammed my foot down on the pedal.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong pedal. A loud sick crunch filled the car as it slammed into something solid, and I saw a dark shape fly across the parking lot.

My heart froze as my brain processed what had just happened. Thankfully the rest of my body kept moving and I threw the car into park before jumping out of my seat.

“Oh my god!” My heart stuttered in my chest and panic lit my veins like fire. Blood pooled under the man’s head and his body was twisted at an unnatural angle. A long stick with a mirror attached to the end lay a few feet away. I couldn’t see his face, but I recognized the severe haircut.

“Mr. Song? Mr. Song, are you okay? I’m so sorry. I never saw you.” I knelt down to check the man. He didn’t move and I reached out to check for a pulse. It was so weak I couldn’t even find it. “Mr. Song? Oh, God. Oh no. Oh no.”

I stood up to go call for help, my eyes swung wildly around the empty garage. My heart was beating so loudly I never heard the person behind me. Someone grabbed my wrist and spun me against the car.

“It was an accident!” I immediately assumed I was being arrested. It was the only thing that made sense to me, but it didn’t stop me from trying to stand back up. “You have to help him!”

“I fucking knew they’d sent someone else.” A hand pushed me forward so my face was pressed against the trunk. “Who sent you?” The voice sounded familiar. The man’s hand slid around my waist and along my small belt.

“What are you doing? That man’s dying!” I hollered and tried to wiggle away. Fear made it hard to breathe. “We need to get him help. Let me go!”

“He’s not dying. He’s dead.” His free hand slid down the outside of my leg before sliding up the inside of my thighs, brushing along my panties. “How did he know about the bomb?”

“Hey! Fuck off, pervert!” I stepped back, my heel landing on his instep just like I’d learned in college, but he didn’t budge. If this was a cop, he’d just crossed my boundaries. I tried to wiggle away from him again and he just grunted.

“Who do you work for?” He leaned close, his body pressing into mine so that he could keep me in place as his hands rummaged through my pockets before moving to trace the underwire of my bra with strong fingers. “Where’s your weapon?”

“Get off me!” I managed to get one arm free and twisted in his grasp, just enough for my elbow to make contact with his jaw.

He stepped back and I spun away from the car, intent on making a run for it. Stepping to the side, he blocked the most direct route to the exit, and officially filled my view. His narrowed gaze did nothing to diminish the impact of his green eyes and I wanted to punch him for turning out to be a creep.

“You?” I frowned, disoriented. “What the hell is wrong with you? We need to get help for him! And you need to keep your hands to yourself.” I shoved him and tried to get back to Mr. Song.

“You can drop the innocent act. He’s dead.” He stepped closer and gripped my arm. “And I don’t appreciate you taking my hit. When did they hire you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to edge further away from him. “He’s dead?” Hit? My breath hitched. I’d killed someone? I’d killed someone on my way to an interview. Oh my God, I killed him. Nausea washed over me and I sucked in air like a dying fish.

“What’s your name?” Green Eyes considered my face carefully. He seemed to be studying me, processing whatever he saw in my eyes. With a jerk of his head he motioned toward Mr. Song’s mangled body and I shuddered. “Two weeks and he never once checked his car. Until today. Have you been tailing me?”

“Tailing you?” I yanked myself away from him and wrapped my arms around my midsection. I was a murderer. Was it manslaughter, or vehicular homicide? Did they use those terms in the UK? My brain couldn’t process the fact that I had killed a man so it resorted to being angry. It was like there were short circuits in my grey matter. It didn’t compute; didn’t make sense. How could I have killed a man, just like that?

“Your name.” It wasn’t a question.

“Go to hell! I’m not telling you my name.” I looked away from Song’s body and fought the bile rising in my throat.

“We’re standing over a dead man that you just killed in a parking garage. I’d think telling me your name would be the least of your worries.” His mouth twitched.

“Or it’s a really good damn reason not to! Now get out of my way so I can go get him help.” I started to step around him, but he moved to block my way.

“You really didn’t mean to kill him.” The realization swept over his face.

“No shit, Sherlock.” My heart was beating so fast I could swear he could hear it. I stared into his eyes, wishing that I could understand what was going on. Wishing that we were talking under different circumstances.

A loud shot filled the garage and Green Eyes threw himself into me and pulled me to the ground.

“What the fuck?” I tried to scramble away from him, but he wouldn’t let me up.

“Be still!” He looked down at me and I froze. There was no denying the serious look in his eyes. “Don’t move.”

He slid off of me and rolled onto his side, scanning under the cars. I could hear the steps of someone as they walked across the concrete, and I felt the flutters of panic grip my throat. I looked around trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Warm fingers closed on my wrist and I looked to where Green Eyes jerked his chin.

About four cars away I could see red heels next to a tire. Squeezing my hand to get my attention, this man that had just felt me up now motioned for me to be quiet and follow him. He pointed for me to climb into the driver side of the car next to us and I shook my head. Hadn’t he been here five minutes ago when I ran someone over? He jerked his head again and pointed at me, then back at the car.

I shook my head and pointed at the dead man whose blood was slowly creeping across the pavement toward us. I’d killed the poor man, I wasn’t about to steal his car, too. And now someone was trying to kill us. Probably a bodyguard or maybe the police.

Another shot slammed into the side of Danny’s car and I moved without thinking. Apparently self-preservation was an instinct. Yanking open the door of Song’s car, I flew into the driver seat and searched for the keys. I was vaguely aware of Green Eyes standing up and calmly pointing a gun over the roof of the car before firing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” My grandmother would be horrified at my language, but damn it, if there was ever a time to use it, it was now ! “There’s no key!” I looked over at the man coolly sliding into the passenger seat.

The coldest green eyes I’d ever seen met mine and I shivered. He handed me a single silver key—obviously a copy of the original, but I didn’t care. I shoved it into the ignition and threw the car in reverse. There was a sickening crunch, but I didn’t have time to feel bad about running over Mr. Song again. A loud crack had me ducking as a bullet slammed into the back window. It didn’t shatter though, and in some distant part of my mind I wondered why Mr. Song had bulletproof glass.

“Feel free to run over anyone else in our way.” Calmly he turned in his seat and lowered his window. Humor warmed his eyes.

“Not funny.” I turned the first corner of the garage just as he fired another shot. The sound made me wince and I jerked the steering wheel. The car clipped the bumper of a delivery van and threw Green Eyes against his door.

“I was joking. Please try to not do that.” He looked at me, his expression serious. “There’s a bomb on the bottom of this car.”

I turned to look at him and felt my mouth fall open. “A bomb! There’s a bomb in this car? Why is there a bomb in this car? What kind of bomb?”

“The kind that goes boom. It was meant for Mr. Song, who you managed to kill without a bomb, and technically it’s on the car, not in it.” He twisted in his seat so that he was facing forward again. “It should be fine. It’s set to go off by remote and I have that right here.” He patted his pocket.

I twisted the steering wheel sharply as I exited the garage and almost knocked over the doorman. But he was holding a large gun in one hand and to my shock he fired directly at my window. The glass shattered, but I didn’t feel any pain, which I hoped meant I wasn’t hit. I ducked in a belated reaction and the car swerved wildly, but the gun-toting hottie next to me steadied the wheel.

“I knew that doorman didn’t like me.” I gritted my teeth. “What an asshole. He’s almost as bad as you are.”

“I’ll drive now, if you’d like.” He said it like we were taking turns on a road trip, not running for our lives. Maybe he wasn’t running for his life. But I was still running for mine. I didn’t know what this guy wanted with me. Was I supposed to just let him drive me to some creepy kill room? An image of walls draped in plastic, knives on a table, and a bed with chains filled my mind. I didn’t think so.

“Now? You want to drive now?” My voice rose with each word. “Sure, I’ll pull over at the corner for a snack and let you take over. Holy shit! Are you crazy?”

“Has anyone ever told you that for such a beautiful woman you have a very dirty mouth?” He smiled at me as my mouth worked silently. “I think I like the odd combination.”

“Fuck you.” I glared at the road.

“So does that mean you don’t want me to drive?” He nodded toward the traffic that was growing thicker. “Do you have a plan for where to go?”

“The cops.” I didn’t mention that I had no idea where they would be located. I’d just stop the first one I saw. “And you told me to get in the driver seat.”

“You’re sure you want to go to the police?” He leaned back into his seat, getting comfortable. He looked, for all the world, as if riding around in a car with a bomb attached to it was normal. “You killed a man and fled the scene in his stolen car—which has a bomb attached to it. Oh, and someone was trying to kill you. I’m sure being locked in a tiny room with nowhere to run will make their job much more difficult.”

“Maybe they were trying to kill you. I can imagine why they’d want to.” I growled and turned down a street that was one way only. And I was going the wrong way. I muttered under my breath as I dodged cars and people honked at me. “I should’ve stayed in bed today.”

“Possibly. They were very sloppy.” He pointed to a street. “You should turn here and take the roundabout.”

“Roundabout?” My heart dropped into my stomach and I broke into a cold sweat. “That seems like a bad idea.”

Roundabouts were the devil. If you’ve ever tried to drive through a roundabout after years of driving in America, you’d understand. Everything was completely backward to how you instinctually drove. It gave me an ulcer just thinking about it.

“We’re being followed. We need to lose them.” He looked at me with serious eyes. “If you want to live, we need to put distance between us and the people in the black sedan.”

“Oh, Jesus.” I jerked the wheel and our car shot down the road toward the evil traffic circle of death.

“Don’t stop, go around them.” I swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid the cars waiting at the stop sign. Horns blared, people shouted, and I gritted my teeth. If I made it out of this alive, I’d kiss the ground.

I could hear people screeching to a halt as I blew into the traffic circle and weaved between the cars.

“Here.” He pointed to a road and I didn’t hesitate as I turned. Belatedly, I wondered where the police were. Surely there should be screeching sirens and flashing lights in my rearview mirror at any minute. The part of me that wasn’t required to pay attention prayed to have someone else to turn this mess over to, someone to make sense of the last thirty minutes.

Had it even been thirty minutes? Probably closer to five minutes. It felt like hours.

A pedestrian stepped into a crosswalk and I slammed on my brakes. Dear God, don’t let me kill anyone else. The rear tires slid in a wild fishtail and my arms locked stiffly as I fought the wheel to keep control. Without thinking I took my foot off of the brake and slammed it onto the gas pedal, wrenching the vehicle around the dazed man and through the intersection.

“Nice.” Green Eyes nodded his head as if I had done something impressive when I had only been trying to not pee my pants.

“If I can’t go to the cops, where do you suggest I go?” I gritted my teeth as I tore through another intersection.

“Out of town would be best.” His head ducked so he could look out the mirror on his side of the car. “The less people around, the better we can stay hidden.”

I took a deep breath. “So I’m stuck with you?”

“It could be worse.” He shrugged.

“How could it possibly be worse? I just killed a man in a fucking parking garage! I killed him! His brains are probably stuck to the cement!”

“Well, you could be trapped with the people shooting at you right now.” He pointed toward a side street. “And it’s not your fault. Song was creeping through the garage trying to not be seen. There was no way you could know that he was behind you. The blood splatter would prove your innocence.”

Pedestrians stopped to watch as our car squealed by.

“You thought I killed him on purpose.” I gripped the steering wheel.

“I thought you had very cleverly stolen my ticket, but once I calmed down I realized you hadn’t meant to do it.”

“Ticket?” I was innocent. I knew I was innocent, but I still felt horrible. Guilt gnawed at my stomach and squeezed my chest.

“You need to turn. You’ve been on this street for too long.”

Yanking the wheel, the car slid around the corner and onto an empty road. I could still see the other car in my side mirror and had no idea how I was supposed to lose them.

“What do we do?” I turned the car down a different road without being told to. I had no idea where I was going, except for away.

“We need to get on the motorway.” My eyes must’ve widened, because he reached out and touched my arm. His gaze was steady, no signs that he was panicked or worried about lying. “We can switch. I’ll keep you safe.”

My gaze darted to his. “What’s your name?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he answered. “Owen.”

“Ava.” I looked back at the road and swerved around a car that had stopped to let someone out.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ava.” His lips turned up and I felt something different than guilt flutter through my chest. “Will you let me drive now?”

“How?” I couldn’t stop. Who knew what would happen if I stopped. Would they just start shooting at us? Would they shoot other people in their attempt to get us?

“Get on the M1 and we’ll trade.” His fingers squeezed my arm. “It’ll be easy.” There was no way switching drivers while on some sort of expressway would be easy.

“Where is the M1?” Something slammed into the back windshield and I ducked. They had shot at us. In public. So much for hoping they were trying to get us somewhere quiet.

“We’re not far. Can you get us a few more blocks?” His eyes were so calm, as if nothing was happening and we were just practicing driving around the town.

“Pfft. No problem. I’ve gotten us this far.” Where the hell this bravado was coming from, I had no idea. But I noticed the smile on his face, and knew that I’d put it there.

“That’s my girl.”

His girl? Hardly. Under other circumstances… well, that wasn’t an option now. Following his directions, we made our way to the on ramp without any accidents. The car tailing us never disappeared, no matter how hard I mentally wished flat tires on them. I sped up, going around cars until we had a nice swatch of clear road. I looked on the dash until I found the cruise control and hit the little button.

“Okay.”

He reached over and unbuckled the seat belt I hadn’t realized I had put on. Sliding his arm behind my back, he shifted over the center console and moved closer to me. Carefully I used my feet to push up so he could slide underneath me. His body pushed against mine and I could feel every manly inch of him pressed behind me, down to the muscles his button up shirt concealed. As his hands slid around my waist to help steady me, his thumbs pressed against my back and rubbed soft circles, as if he was trying to comfort me—but instead it was accomplishing the exact opposite. I let the weight off of my feet, easing down on to his lap so I could move to the other seat.

“I’m ready.” His voice was husky in my ear and for a second I thought about telling him I was more than ready myself. Thankfully I was able to keep my senses and remember that there was someone intent on killing me in a car not far behind us.

With extreme caution I tried to lift my left leg so that I could step over the console, but my skirt was too tight. Understanding the problem, his hands slid moved down my hips and over my skirt so he could slip it up my thighs. Goosebumps erupted along my skin as his knuckles brushed along my legs. Once the material was high enough that I could lift my leg, I slid into the other seat and let him take control of the steering wheel.

“Buckle up.” He smiled at me as he took the car off cruise control and hit the gas pedal.

I HAD TO force my mind back onto the task at hand as Ava adjusted herself in her seat. She checked the side mirror before turning to look at me.

“What are you going to do?” Her voice held a throaty edge that made me smile. Apparently she had enjoyed changing seats as much as I had. It was certainly a better sound than the horror it had held earlier.

“Lose them.” I wrenched the car around a tour bus and tried to put a little more distance between us and the idiots following close behind. There were only two real options. Lose them in traffic, or take them out. And I had a feeling that Ava would be upset if I used my particular skill set right now.

Knowing that there was road construction nearby, I headed there. It would be one of the easiest ways to lose our tail. And then I needed to get somewhere safe so I could work out just what was going on here.

“Ava? Why would someone want to kill you?”

“Me? I don’t know! What about you? You put bombs under people’s cars. Maybe they’re trying to kill you.”

“They were aiming for you, Ava.” I swerved around another family car and gritted my teeth when our tail almost clipped their bumper. “I was just collateral damage in that scenario.”

“They’re stopping!” Ava reached up and grabbed the handle above her door.

“Yes.”

“Then why are you speeding up?” Her voice rose in pitch.

“To try and lose the car behind us in the construction zone.” I swerved and clipped the side mirror on the railing in a shower of sparks. “Or would you rather have me stop so we can try to talk out our differences?”

The hand that wasn’t bracing her jerked out and slammed into my arm.

I swerved just a little and she gasped loudly. “Sorry.”

“This is going to be close.” Up ahead I could see some of the equipment moving and seized my chance. As cars merged into one lane, I whipped into the narrowing emergency lane. Up ahead the extra space was being used for regular traffic and that would be our best chance at bottlenecking our chaser. We sideswiped a taxi and I could hear Ava cursing under her breath and muttering about the bomb, but we made it through.

Loud pops had Ava ducking in her seat, but we had managed to get them trapped for at least a couple of minutes, which would give us time to lose them.

“Shit. Where are the cops?” Ava peeked over her shoulder and out the window.

“Oh, I’m sure they’re coming.” I pulled off at an exit and turned down a quiet road. “We need to change cars.”

“Great. Now you’re a car thief?” Ava wrinkled her nose.

“You killed a man in a parking garage. What’s a little grand theft auto now?” I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she frowned and looked out the window.

“I guess we already stole one car.” Her breath sounded heavy and I wondered if she would cry. A lot of people would in her situation.

“True.” I turned into a different parking garage. “And we did it to save your life.”

“Our lives.” Her face whitened. “I still can’t believe I killed Mr. Song.”

“I told you, it was his fault. And don’t feel bad for him.” My voice clipped out the words. “He was not a nice man.”

“How would you know?” She looked at me, her eyes narrowed.

“I was there to kill him.” I pulled around the garage until I found a corner with a broken light. I put the car in park and looked at her. “Mr. Song ran a prostitute ring. He sold young girls and women to men and made a very healthy living doing so.”

“He sold girls? Hookers?” She shook her head. “How can you know that?”

“I’m very particular about the cases I take on. When the girls started showing up dead, one of his associates decided it was time to call his number.” I looked around the garage before opening my door. “I need to defuse the bomb. I don’t want it accidently going off when the police find the vehicle.”

“Shit.” She scrambled in her seat to undo her belt before jumping out of the car. She was looking at the stairs leading outside and chewing on her lip when I climbed out of my seat.

“Ava?” I leveled my eyes at her over the car. “You’re free to run, but your chances are exponentially better with me.”

She looked at me, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to run. I’d admitted to being a hitman and she’d been chased by people trying to kill her, not to mention the dead man she left behind. That was a lot for most people to digest.

“Take care of the bomb.” She looked away from me. “And then we need to talk.”

I nodded my head, relieved she hadn’t decided to run. I knew that if she went off on her own she wouldn’t make it long. Even the idiots that had been following her would have an easy time taking her down. I could walk, could disappear for a while and wait for this to blow over. But I needed to know what had happened back there, if for no other reason than to make sure I hadn’t been set up. And Ava was my best link to the whole mess. It was also a convenient excuse. My bleeding fucking heart was getting the better of me.

“Watch for anyone approaching.” She nodded, but didn’t look back at me. Still pissed and frightened, I guessed. Understandable.

I slid under the bumper and carefully undid the wires that connected the device to the explosive. I considered removing it all and taking it with me, but I didn’t want to have to worry about carrying it. Besides, I knew how to get more if I needed it. Something tapped my leg and I realized Ava was kicking me softly. I crawled out and looked around carefully. There was someone walking toward a car on our side of the garage.

“Found it, honey.” I held my hand up as if I’d found an earring before wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I kept my voice casual as I led her toward the nearest exit. “It looks like it’s broken. You’ll have to get it repaired.”

“That’s a shame.” Her voice was steady, but I could see the tightness around her eyes as she leaned into me.

We walked down the road a ways as I scouted for a new vehicle. Preferably something older that wouldn’t be easy to trace. The farther we walked, the more I found myself enjoying the fact that Ava was tucked against my side. Most of my time spent with women was very business-like. We were there to scratch an itch for each other. There was no cuddling or holding hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent a moment with a woman tucked against me for anything other than sex.

I slid my arm from her shoulders down to her waist and she stiffened slightly before falling back into pace with me.

“Loosen up, Ava. If we look happy, that’s all anyone will see.” I leaned close so I could whisper in her ear. “Just a happy couple walking down the street—not people worried about being followed.”

“I’m trying.” She stopped and looked up at me, our breaths mingling, and my gaze dipped down to her lips. A lock of her hair had fallen loose and was whipping against her cheek. Slowly I raised my fingers and tucked it back behind her ear, letting my hand linger along her neck.

“You’re doing great.” Turning away from her I urged us onward. I had no doubt that the people following us would catch up unless we put more space between ourselves and the city.

When we happened upon a quiet row of houses with cars parked along the curb, I turned and walked until I found an older Land Rover. I stopped and bent over to tie my shoe, checking the sidewalk and nearby homes for people that might notice us. Once I was sure we were in the clear, I stood up, pulling the lock picks out of my pocket.

I made quick work of the door and slid into the driver seat before leaning over and opening the door passenger side for Ava. She climbed into her seat Ava climbed inside and discreetly kept watch out the passenger side window. I found it amusing that she had slipped into the role of lookout so quickly. I pulled away from the curb and headed out of town.

We’d stick to as many back roads as possible and keep a low profile. I had a safe house in Oxford that would give us a place to regroup. We needed to change clothes and I needed to talk to some people.

“Where are you going to go?” Ava asked as I navigated the busy roads. Her eyes didn’t have the happy glow that had been in them the day before. A couple of hours with me was all it had taken. I didn’t blame her.

“Oxford. I need to make some calls and figure out what’s going on.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked. Her voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the fear behind her words.

I sighed. “I don’t normally announce when I’m going to kill someone, but no. I’m not going to kill you. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to keep you alive.”

We sat in silence and I focused on staying under the radar. Avoiding suspicious behavior was important while driving a stolen car. My mind ran over the events, trying to piece together an exact timeline. Had I seen that woman at any point before this morning? And the doorman had been in place for quite a while. How long had people been planning on killing Ava?

“Why not kill me?” Her voice broke my train of thought and I looked at her confused.

“What?”

“It would be easier. If there really is a bounty on my head you could just collect the money yourself.” She crossed her arms over her chest. I reached out and turned up the heater. It was nearing the end of summer and there was a chill in the air today.

“You’re not my contract.” I shrugged. “And I only take contracts for people who deserve it.” I was not going to go into my philosophy for my job. There was no making what I did okay. I was a murderer.

“How do you know I don’t? I didn’t know Mr. Song was such a horrible man.” She leaned her head back against the seat. “I mean, he was unfriendly, but I never would have looked at him and thought he was involved in some kind of sex scandal.”

“I just know.” Mr. Song’s death wouldn’t bother her if she trafficked in the darker parts of humanity. Her eyes were too bright, too innocent—it wasn’t something you could fake.

She was looking at me like I was a puzzle and for the first time in a long ages, I felt nervous. I reached up and pulled at my tie so it hung loosely and focused on the road. I’d faced down some of the most disgusting people on the planet, but her bright eyes made me feel undone. I needed to get a grip. Or get laid. How long had it been? I couldn’t remember—which was a sad thing.

We lapsed into silence again and I debated our next move. Information was a must. There were too many unknowns in this situation and I didn’t like being blind. What were the odds that two people living in the same building, on the same floor, would have hits out for them at the same time? Whoever was after Ava must have some connection with Mr. Song, which meant I was involved whether I wanted to be or not. And I certainly didn’t want to be involved.

“Look, I can drop you anywhere you want, but you can’t go back to London. It’s not safe there right now. For either of us.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she said miserably.

I shot Ava a quick glance as we wove our way through traffic. She was looking out the window, chewing on her thumbnail. Unshed tears glistened along her eyelashes and made my heart do something funny. A lot of women would be screaming or hysterical. Ava was trying to not let me see her cry.

“Stay with me,” I said.

“You’re dangerous,” Ava pointed out.

“That’s why you need me.”

She wiped at her eyes, and I could sense she was wavering—but when she finally nodded, I felt relief wash over me. Because at that moment, I understood I had a new job: to protect her.

Shit.

I was definitely involved.

I WOULD NOT become a blubbering mess. I would not cry like a little girl. I would remain calm so I could retain some kind of control of the situation.

Or I would stare out the window and glare at the world that passed by while pretending like I wasn’t crying. I hated to cry. I really fucking hated to cry, especially while trapped in a car with an insanely hot self-confessed murderer.

Then again, wasn’t I a murderer now, too?

The memory of blood creeping across the concrete filled my mind. No, no. Can’t go down that road right now. It was too much to think about. And I had to concentrate on what was happening to me right now. Had to stay calm so I could figure out what I needed to do next.

Not that I had a clue what that was. I should be looking for a cop, distancing myself from Owen, but I had agreed to let him help me and besides I had nothing with me; no money, no passport, no cell phone. Nothing. Everything was in my purse, back in the car that killed Mr. Song. I wasn’t sure I could even remember Tess’s new phone number. I mean, who bothered memorizing phone numbers anymore? And surely the police had gotten to Song by now. They would go through my purse and call out to all of the officers to start looking for the American with torn stockings, blue eyes, and brown hair.

I was so screwed. Right now my entire life hinged on the guy driving this stolen car—on what he decided to do next. And I wasn’t exactly comfortable with that. But my options were limited. Very limited. I sighed.

“What’s in Oxford?” We passed a small sign with the city name.

“My house.” He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “A safe house.”

His house or a safe house? And was I really okay with going to a strange house with him? Did I have a choice?

“What are we going to do there?”

“After I have my way with you I think I’ll order pizza and catch a game.”

My mouth fell open and for a minute my stomach did all sorts of flips. When he saw my expression his lips pulled back into a wide grin and I felt my cheeks heat.

“Very funny,” I said, but he only laughed.

Though I didn’t want to admit it, for a moment I’d hoped he was serious. It had been almost a year since I’d rolled around in the sheets with someone other than George, my battery operated toy.

“I told you I wasn’t going to kill you.” A deep chuckle filled the car.

“You’re an ass.”

“And you’re disappointed I wasn’t serious.” His smirk made me itch to hit him again.

“You wish.” You wish? Was that the best I could come up with?

“We need to figure out why someone is trying to kill you and what we can do about it.” He glanced at me slyly. “Then if you want…”

“You know, maybe after the pizza...” I raised one eyebrow. His eyes darted down to my mouth then slowly back up to meet my gaze. “We could discuss strategy. I’m starving.”

He smiled slowly and looked back at the road. Ha. Score one for me. He wasn’t the only one who could play that game.

I tried to pay attention to landmarks as we drove through town. The last thing I wanted was to be completely lost. There were lots of little storefronts, old buildings, and students meandering through the streets. If I wasn’t worried about someone trying to kill me I would have had a blast poking through the old shops and bookstores.

“What is that?” I pointed at a row of houses. One of them seemed to have a giant fish sticking out of the roof like a missile that hadn’t detonated.

“A shark.” Owen chuckled.

“Why is there a giant shark sticking out of that roof?” I shook my head.

“An expression of outrage about nuclear issues.” He shrugged and I leaned back in my seat. “The city tried to have it removed but failed.”

“It adds a certain amount of charm, don’t you think?” I wished I had my camera. A shark sticking out of a roof would make a fun picture. Of course, my camera was back in Tess’s apartment, which was probably being combed by officers wearing latex gloves and searching for fingerprints.

“It’s certainly eye catching.” His shoulders seemed to relax, even though I hadn’t realized that he was carrying tension in them. Part of me wondered if he ever rode around with someone, just talking.

“What else is there to see in Oxford?” I wanted to keep him talking, see him unwind even more. If nothing else, it made me feel more relaxed.

“Museums, the Carfax tower, the Bridge of Sighs.” He rattled off the list as he made a turn down a narrow lane.

“The Bridge of Sighs?” I smiled. “That sounds romantic.”

“It’s very similar to the bridges you find in Venice, but that’s as romantic as it gets.” Laughter lit his eyes as he talked. “It’s not far from the Turf.”

“The Turf? Turf as in grass?”

“As in Turf Tavern. It’s near the colleges. A lot of the students gather there. Always a good time. Or good trouble.” A note in his voice caught my attention. Pride?

“You grew up here?” I offered the guess. It was definitely not just a safe house that we were going to.

“For a while.” It was like a metal door dropped down and his chipper attitude dissipated in a cloud of smoke.

I didn’t ask anything else as we drove through town. Curiosity raged inside me, demanding to know what would shut him down so quickly, but I knew better than to push for any answers. It didn’t take a psychology degree to see he had some serious issues. Could you be an assassin without some kind of baggage? I seriously doubted it.

Eventually the buildings of town thinned out and we turned down a small country lane that wound through bushes and trees. A small cottage sat nestled amongst the brush. The red door was a little dingy, but the cottage looked to be in good shape otherwise. We climbed out of the car and I stood there looking around the small clearing.

Owen knelt down in front of the Land Rover and used a knife to remove the license plate. I watched, not sure what else I should do.

“Come on.” Owen opened the door for me, waiting for me to go inside. I squeezed past him, conscious of how close we were.

The curtains were closed, leaving the cottage draped in shadow. I moved forward slowly, not wanting to trip. The door creaked as Owen stepped inside and pushed it closed. As he moved close to me I froze, my heart rate accelerating. Leaning forward he reached past me and light flared to life. His bright green eyes bore into mine without looking around the small room.

“Ava?”

“Yes?” I licked my lips.

“You’re safe here.” He didn’t touch me. Didn’t squeeze my hand or even smile. Yet, I did feel comforted. I had a feeling that he didn’t tell people that often. And if he was telling me, that meant he believed it.

“What are we going to do?” I said the words quietly. He had offered me help, I’d have been a fool to not accept it. Even if I was still wary.

“Why don’t you change and I’ll get some food ready? We can talk while we eat.”

“I don’t have anything with me.” I looked down at my dirty dress and torn stockings.

He looked me up and down before walking into an adjoining room. I watched as he opened a few drawers and pulled things out. I chewed on my nail as he walked back to me and proffered his bounty.

“The bathroom is right over there.” He motioned to a door next to the bedroom.

“Thanks.” I took the clothes and walked past him. The bathroom was small but functional. It was neat, with a fine coating of dust on everything that suggested it had been a while since anyone had used the cottage.

I locked the door as quietly as I could. It wasn’t that I thought Owen was going to peek in, it was just more of a precaution. That man didn’t have to go peeking into bathrooms to see naked women. They probably lined up on the sidewalks waving their panties for him.

When I looked into the mirror I frowned at my reflection. My makeup had not held up well to rolling around on the pavement. Of course, being shot at hadn’t helped either. I looked through the shelves in the corner until I found a wash cloth and used it to clean up. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but looking like I had just pulled an all-nighter at a club probably wasn’t a good idea.

Owen had given me a cable knit sweater that was a little large and a pair of jeans that were snug enough to make me consider not buttoning them. I decided that if I had to do any more rolling around on the ground I didn’t want to lose my pants so sucked it in and zipped them up. My hair was a mess, hanging around my face in clumps, so I pulled it all the way down and tried to work some of the knots out. It was silly to care what I looked like, but it felt good to take a few minutes to do something so normal.

When I was finished I took my clothes and shoes out to the living room. Owen was on the phone while stirring a pot on the stove, his jacket and tie discarded on the sofa. There was a tattoo on his left forearm that curved up and around, but I couldn’t see exactly what it was. I took a seat at the table, quiet so I wouldn’t interrupt. I had no idea who he was talking to or what they needed to know, but I didn’t want to announce my presence.

“No. Tell him there was a complication. Nothing I can’t handle.” He stepped away from the stove to grab two bowls from a shelf. He stone-cold voice was so at odds with his movements, I felt like I was watching two versions of him battling for reality. “He knows how to reach me.”

He set the bowls down before throwing the phone on the counter. I watched as he worked, enjoying the complete contradiction of him working in the kitchen. He was definitely at home in the cottage, even if there were no photographs on the walls. There was no hesitation when he reached for something, because he must’ve reached for it a hundred times in the past. It made him seem normal, not a hardened hired killer.

“I was going to make tea, but it seems we’re out.” He flung a dish towel over his shoulder and leaned against the counter. “The clothes fit?”

As his eyes ran over me I fought the urge to fidget with the giant sweater. I felt like I might as well be naked under his scrutiny. His gaze lingered on my shoulder where the wide neck of the sweater kept slipping off. Instinctively I reached up and touched the spot he stared at, wondering what it would feel like to have his mouth there instead. The moment seemed to draw out and I realized I hadn’t answered his question.

“They’re fine.” I cleared my throat and looked down at the table. “What are you making?”

“Canned soup. I don’t keep perishables here.” He nodded toward the open cupboard. Cans lined the shelf.

“Not here often.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.” He folded his arms over his chest as he regarded me. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for so I sat there quietly. “How are you holding up?”

I shrugged. What could I say? I’m fine? That would be a lie. I wasn’t bleeding or having a panic attack, but I also wasn’t comfortable or happy.

“You seem to be handling this pretty well.” He turned to stir the pot again.

“No. I’m not. Inside I’m huddled in a corner and crying.” I folded my hands on the table in front of me. “I have no idea what’s going on, I’m in a stranger’s cabin wearing a stranger’s clothes, and all of my belongings, including my passport, are back at Tess’s apartment.”

“Tess?” He turned around and looked back at me.

“My friend. I’m housesitting for her while she’s on her honeymoon.” My stomach clenched. I wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to me until that moment, but what if those people hadn’t been looking for me? “Oh my God. I need to call her. She might be in danger.”

“Hold on a minute.” He took the pot off the stove and ladled the soup into the bowls. “Was that your car in the garage?”

“No. That’s Danny’s car. Her husband.” I twisted my fingers together. “I’m just housesitting and got a call for a job interview. I hate driving here, but I didn’t have any other options.”

“Your friend, is she American as well?” He sat a bowl down in front of me before taking the opposite chair.

“Yeah. She met Danny in the States and they went straight on their honeymoon.” Sitting back in my chair I shook my head. “I need to call her.”

God damnit. I didn’t even know her new number.

“That’s not a good idea.” Owen shook his head. “They could be monitoring her.”

“What if it’s not me that they were after? What if they really meant to kill Tess? I have to warn her!” I stood up and stepped toward the counter.

“And if she wasn’t their target, you’ll be putting her in their sights.” Owen didn’t get up, just waited for me to think it over. “Let me see what kind of information I can get before we do anything. There is something weird going on and I don’t like it.”

“You mean weirder than running over a man, being shot at, and stealing cars?”

“That’s a normal work day for me, love.” He winked at me and I thought about punching myself for the giddiness that coursed through my veins. Maybe I should just punch him. Anger was better than panic, right?

“Yeah, I’m beginning to get that.” I sat back down and picked up my spoon. “Who did you call?”

“My handler.” He took a few sips of his soup. “I need to check in and let him know the hit went amiss. I’m also going to ask if there are any hits out for an American woman. Try to feel out the case.”

My stomach clenched. Would he decide to take the job himself once he knew how to get the money? I looked down at my bowl and tried to not show my nerves. One minute I felt completely at ease, contemplating his ass while he cooked, and the next I was shaking like there was a velociraptor watching me while I ate gelatin. I was apparently insane. Or in a really odd situation. Jesus, I wish there was a script I could follow.

He got up from his seat without a word and opened a small drawer next to the stove. When he pulled out the black gun I sat up straight, watching him. If he decided to shoot me there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Casually he checked the chamber and slid the gun across the table to me. I looked from it to him.

“You need to be able to defend yourself.” He sat back down in front of his soup.

“From who?” I slid the gun closer to me. I had used guns on Grandma’s farm. Mostly shotguns or rifles, but it had been a long time.

“From anyone you think is a threat.” He dug back into his soup.

“Would this gun stop you?” I lifted the gun, wrapping my fingers around the grip, careful to avoid the trigger. I dropped the clip and checked the chamber. A large bullet fell onto the table, spinning for a moment. I popped the clip back into the handle, cocked the gun, dropped the clip and replaced the bullet. And I managed to do it all without shaking hands.

“It could.” His amused smile made an appearance. “You know your way around a gun?”

“Some.” I set the pistol back down on the table and decided to eat. I had a feeling it was important to keep my stamina up. “My grandmother owned a farm. So, I know the basics. Mainly it was just shotguns or rifles. Trying to scare predators away from the chickens or occasionally dealing with a sick animal. We didn’t have much to do with pistols, but I did win a couple of sharp shooting competitions in 4H. I didn’t keep up with the training though.” I sighed and tried to not think about that too much. I’d had to put down one of our cattle the year Granny had passed. She’d been too weak to do it and I couldn’t look at the cow suffering any longer.

“Good. Then I don’t have to worry about you shooting yourself.”

“I’d be more worried that I’d accidently shoot you.” I laughed at his expression. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stood up and went back to the stove for more food. “No one should feel helpless.”

His words rang through the quiet little house. Oddly, I did feel better having the gun. If he was going to kill me, he could have done it already, and certainly wouldn’t have given me a way to defend myself.

I finished my soup quickly. You’d think I wouldn’t be hungry with everything that was going on. I had killed a man today—shouldn’t I feel bad? But instead of praying or offering up Hail Marys, I was scraping the bowl with my spoon like it would magically spout out more chicken.

“I can make more.” Owen watched me, amusement in his expression.

“I don’t know why I’m so hungry.” I pushed back in my seat. “I’ll do it if you don’t mind.”

“Help yourself.” He threw an arm over the back of his chair and watched as I got up and moved through his kitchen.

I looked over the cupboard offerings and picked a can of clam chowder. With the overcast weather and soft patter of rain it seemed like the perfect fit. I took my time as I rinsed out the pot and used the handheld can opener. His eyes followed my every move and I tried to not show how it affected me. There was a tension between us that was undeniable and the new me might have jumped all over that fact, except for everything that was going on.

“Where was your job interview?” His voice rumbled through the room.

“A jewelry designer.” I sighed. “I really wanted it, too.”

“Is that what you were doing at the café? Filling out job applications?”

My cheeks heated at the reminder that he had been watching me. “Yeah. I didn’t expect to hear back from them so quickly.”

“When did you hear from them?” His eyes narrowed.

“This morning. I barely had enough time to get ready.” I stirred the pot on the stove. “I wonder if I would’ve gotten the job?”

“Had you made it, I’m betting they wouldn’t have had any idea why you were there.”

“What do you mean?” I turned to look at him, for a moment thinking he was implying I wasn’t good enough for the position.

“It was a set up. They were drawing you out so they could make the hit.”

“But—”

“Think about it, Ava. What are the odds that someone would call you before normal business hours to ask you to come in for an interview?” His head cocked to the side. “They were hoping to take you out without causing a scene. The garage was typically empty at that time of the morning.”

My mouth opened and then closed. “How could they…”

“Hacking into email isn’t difficult.” He walked to the sink and rinsed his bowl. “I should know.”

“But—but.” I shook my head. “So I didn’t get the job interview?”

“Is that the part that upsets you the most?” His smile mocked me and I glared at him.

“I really wanted it. I wanted to get a job so I could get a work visa.” I leaned my hip against the counter and crossed my arms.

“You don’t plan on going back to the States?”

“I won’t have a choice if I can’t find a job.” I turned back to the stove and stirred the pot again. I was still shocked that I had been set up, that my computer had been hacked, and I had no idea. How long had the woman in red heels been following me? The doorman had been at the building since I’d arrived during a thunderstorm with nothing but my carry-on bags.

“Don’t you have a job and family back home?” He moved a little closer and I could feel his eyes on me like a caress. It was so odd to look at him and find the balance between the murderous monster that lurked behind his eyes and the gentle manner with which he looked at me.

I shrugged.

“No?”

“No family. Quit my job.” I looked up at him, surprised that he was so close. “When Tess got married I realized I needed to change. Stop doing all of the same things. Try something new.”

“Seems like you’re accomplishing your goal.” The laughter in his voice made me meet his stare.

“I guess so.” I felt the corners of my mouth turning up. “Killing people in garages, a mad car chase through London…guess I can mark those off my to-do list now. You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

“And I’m not even trying yet.”

“Yet?” Did my voice sound heavy? I looked up at him.

“Yet.” Hunger lit his eyes. Oh my.

“That so?” I bit my bottom lip.

“So.” He reached out and brushed some of the hair away from my face.

We stood there like that for a few minutes, our gazes locked as we contemplated each other. The hiss of the soup boiling over broke the moment and I turned around to turn the stove off. Owen grabbed a rag from the sink and cleaned up the mess while I dished food into our bowls.

“Is there any reason someone would be after your friend?” Owen leaned against the corner before spooning some of the soup into his mouth.

“Tess? God, no. Everyone loves her.” I pursed my lips. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.”

“What about her husband?”

“Danny?” My initial reaction was to say the same thing. Danny was funny, personable, and put everyone at ease. But the truth was, I didn’t know him very well. He and Tess had only dated for a few months before deciding to elope. “I don’t know.”

“What does he do?” Owen set his empty bowl in the sink.

“He’s a contractor. Builds things.”

“What type of things?” Owen cocked his head to the side. “Maybe he’s upset someone.”

“Upset someone? Danny is one of the easiest guys to get along with, I can’t imagine he would do something that would upset someone that badly without trying to make it right.” I needed to talk to Tess. I was terrified she would wander into a terrible situation and be completely blind.

“Maybe he doesn’t know that he’s done something wrong.”

“Then I’m not going to know what it is.” I shook my head and added my empty bowl to the sink. “For that matter, maybe I’ve done something and I just don’t know what it is.”

“Have you gone anywhere unusual, met any abnormal people?” He turned the water on and started cleaning the dishes. “Other than me?” He threw me a smile that had me shaking my head.

“Not that I know of.” I plucked the clean bowl from his hand and the towel from his shoulder. I thought it over as I dried and he cleaned. Where all had I been, what had I done? Nothing outlandish or uncommon came to mind. The typical tourist traps and landmarks in London, but hadn’t really had much contact with anyone other than Rachel at the café.

“What about in the States?” He leveled his gaze at me. “Are you running from anything?”

“Boredom.” He didn’t laugh which made me sigh. “Honestly, I just wanted to shake life up a bit.”

“I’m serious, Ava. An ex-lover holding a grudge? Someone you owe a debt to?”

“No and no. I parted amicably with my last boyfriend and my grandmother left me enough money that I wouldn’t have to go into debt.” I sat the towel down on the counter.

“Someone after your money?” He looked at me intently.

“It wasn’t that much, just enough to cushion me if I was careful.” I wasn’t going to explain the details of my bank account. After I paid Gran’s debts off, I’d had just under twenty thousand left. It was a nice amount of padding, but we weren’t talking millions. Surely not enough to make it worthwhile to hire a hitman.

“Then we’re back to your friends. Is it possible people didn’t know what Tess looked like?” He walked over to a wall and pulled a picture down. There was a safe behind it and he quickly entered a code before opening the door. He pulled out a stack of money in various currencies, a few passports, some folders, and a laptop.

“I guess so.” I sat down on a large stuffed chair and ran my fingers over the arms. “They got married in the States and barely stopped in London before going on their honeymoon. They’re going to be gone for a month, so Tess asked me to house sit—take care of their plants. I think she just wanted to give me an escape. She felt bad for leaving me.”

“Escape from what?” Owen set the laptop down and flipped through his folders.

“Life.” I shrugged uncomfortably when he looked up at me. “I’m twenty-three and was living like a cat woman. Minus the cat.”

“Cat woman?” He smirked.

“I never did anything interesting or spontaneous. I wasn’t even using my art degree because I was comfortable in the boring job I had been doing for the last three years. I was just…existing.” I tucked my feet up under me and picked at the jeans. The knees were wearing thin, like they had been someone’s favorite pair. “I thought London would give me the chance to break out of my routine.”

“Well, I think it’s fair to say you accomplished that.” He smiled before looking down at his computer.

“More like blew it to smithereens.” I propped my chin on my knee and watched him as he typed. “What are you doing?”

“Checking email, trying to see if there are any rumors online. Hints as to what’s going on.” His voice drifted as he searched. “I knew there was something wrong with this hit from the beginning.”

“So is there an assassin chat room? Online support group? A top secret forum?” I leaned forward to try and peek at the computer screen.

“Something like that.” His eyebrows drew together and he frowned. A familiar blue light lit his features and I gasped.

“Oh my God. Are you on Facebook?” I laughed when he turned the computer away from my prying eyes.

“No. I am not on Facebook. What kind of self-respecting assassin would have a Facebook group?”

“Let me see your profile picture.” I reached for the computer and he moved it further away. “Don’t tell me. You’re holding a gun, Bond style.”

“Bond wishes he was as cool as I am.” Laughter lit his eyes as he looked up at me.

“Uh huh.” I shifted back in my seat. “Do you think I could send Tess an email?” That was one thing I could remember; her email had been the same since we had met.

“That is the worst thing you could do right now.” He didn’t look up, just continued to stare at whatever was on the screen.

“Then how do you suggest I let her know she may be in danger?” I tried to reel my temper in, because it wasn’t his fault I was being targeted, but the fact was that I was in a terrible situation. “Or that I’m alive? I’m sure the cops had to have traced Danny’s car by now. Tess probably thinks I’m dead or worse.”

“Worse than dead?” Owen raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I could’ve been taken and sold as a sex slave.” I shrugged. “It happened in that movie where the dad kills everyone, only I don’t have a bad-ass to come save me. And fuck, I ran over a murderous pimp in his garage!”

“You really do have a foul mouth.” He leveled a disapproving stare at me.

“Are you kidding me? You’re an assassin. Stop throwing stones.”

“Point. But I might argue that I manage to kill people while maintaining a sense of propriety.”

“You kill people with a sense of propriety?” Laughter erupted from my mouth. “What? Do you leave a thank you note? Do you design your own assassin stationery? Dear Sir or Madam…” My laughter choked my words.

“I didn’t say I was nice about it. Just proper.”

“Proper.” I shook my head.

“Yes, clean and quick.” He watched stuff scroll across his screen. “Usually.”

I didn’t want to think about what that meant. Instead I turned back to what I felt I could control.

“So why would it be a bad idea to let her know that I’m alive? That she may be in danger?”

“They may be monitoring your email. It could lead them to you or her. Think about it. If they are after you and you let them know she is important to you, then it will send them after her to use against you. If they are after her, it could just alert them to wherever she is right now.” He frowned at me. “Where is she?”

“Italy? I didn’t ask for a detailed itinerary. It’s their honeymoon. They’re probably holed up naked in a little villa somewhere.” Standing up, I went to look out the windows. “I think they were driving, so they could be anywhere.”

We were silent for a while, the only noise the sound of his fingers dancing across the keyboard. I was starting to feel drained, the insanity of the day catching up with me now that the adrenaline had calmed.

“I don’t like this.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it. All of it. This is a giant fuc—stupid mess.” Using my fingers I pushed the blinds open wide enough to see through. “I don’t have a passport, I don’t have any money—I have nothing.”

“That’s not true.” Owen’s voice rumbled through the room.

“What?” I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I’m baggage for you. Nothing but a hassle to give you a headache.”

“Not true.” He sat back from the little table in front of the sofa. “And you have a gun. I’ve found that those are just as helpful as money or passports at times.”

I smiled at him and turned back around to look at the gravel path in front of the h

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 891