Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
“I guess? Or maybe it’s just that I‘d rather be too hot than too cold?” She mock shivers, rubbing her hands along her upper arms.
I frown. I can’t kill the wind or force the sun to come out more often, which sucks, but there are limits to what a hitman can accomplish. I guess I’m buying her a hundred coats when I get to my computer. I adjust my glasses.
We don’t talk as we leave. I’m not sure what to say. Small talk has never been my thing. I’m trained in different stuff like hiding, lurking, figuring out if the south breeze is going to affect my shot—that sort of shit. I don’t mind the silence either. It’s always been a companion of mine. I don’t know if it’s the same for Quinn, though. I peak at her face to see if I can gauge her feelings. There’s a slight crease between her brows and the corners of her lips are turned down. Is it her dad? Is it me? I have to forcibly stop from smelling myself again.
“How about we—"
“My dad’s difficult,” she blurts out. “I didn’t tell him about you because he doesn’t want to hear it. He just wants me to listen to him talk for ten minutes about how important he is and then he’s off to another meeting.”
“Okay.”
She sighs. “It’s not okay. I feel like a piece of crap. I should’ve said something but the thing is my dad thinks I’m a child and he’s mad that I came to school here instead of the college that’s close to him where he can control me better with his army of assistants and spies. And don’t say it’s because he loves me. He doesn’t. He just thinks women can’t make decisions on their own.”
I nod as if this makes sense to me even though it doesn’t because Quinn can obviously make decisions on her own. She chose me, didn’t she? Seems that she has a good head on her shoulders. Too bad I can’t kill her dad. Unless…I eye her bent head. Maybe she’d feel freer if she didn’t have to deal with him. I’m retired from paid hits, but this would be a freebie so I technically wouldn’t be coming out of retirement.
I shove my hands in my pants and whistle.
She nudges me with her shoulder. “You seem happy.”
“I’m with you.” We fucked. It was glorious. She hasn’t run away. I couldn’t ask for anything more. “If I died today, I’d have lived a perfect life.”
This pulls her lips into a smile. “You talk about life and death a lot for someone so young.”
“That’s true.” I’ll need to work on my vocabulary.
“Are you watching too many action movies?”
“You could say that.”
“I like comedies a lot. Like Bridesmaids, Booksmart, 40-Year-Old Virgin.” She smirks. “Thought that last one was going to be autobiographical for a while there.” She swipes a hand across her forehead. “You saved me.”
Fuck, she’s funny and gorgeous when she’s happy. I could stare at this face forever and not get bored. “I haven’t watched any of those.”
“Oh snap. Sounds like we need to have a movie night.”
I don’t have a television but that can be rectified. Surely there’s a place in town that will deliver one for the right price. “What other movies do you like?” I ask.
She shares a few. I admit to having watched none. I’ve been more of a reader than anything and our conversation moves to books. Most of my life has been spent in silence and I thought I preferred that, but hearing her talk makes me happy. I’m going to record her at some point so that when we’re not together, I can play her voice as the soundtrack. Better than any music, that’s for damn sure.
When we get to my apartment, my stomach is grumbling. “How about steak and eggs?”
“Steak for breakfast?” Her face lights up. “I like that idea.”
Upstairs, the door to my apartment is open. Is the party still going on? I take my glasses off and tuck them inside my shirt pocket. With one hand, I push Quinn behind me. There’s a bottle lying on the ground. I pick it up and use my shirt to muffle the sound of glass breaking as I fashion the bottle into a weapon.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her hand clutching the back of my shirt.
“Nothing.” There’s no one that can stand a chance against me. It’s not bragging to say it. It’s the truth. I creep forward with the bottle gripped in one hand. The end is sharp enough that I can slash through a carotid artery. We’re fine. We’re going to be just fine.
A body moves at the entrance. I pull back my arm and then...lower it.
“Flip.”
“Dude. What time is it?” He digs his knuckles into his eyes.