Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Memories of us in front of a fireplace with hot cocoa, a movie, and lots of hot sex are hard to shove aside. I decide not to try. This is all a part of why I’m here, why we’re here. I walk to sit down across from him. He leans forward and sets my gun next to me. “Keep it. You might need it.”
I don’t touch it, but that gun matters. It’s control. It’s my control, but it’s not answers. “Why me?”
“Why you? To start, I needed a cover, a way to get close to a client of the law firm where you worked. And no. No one there is in danger. I promise you. They’re safe.”
“What client?”
“It doesn’t matter. He left the firm. He’s not a threat to them. Is he a part of the threat we’re facing? Maybe. He’s a powerful person. He’s got a past with the CIA. He’s dirty.” He leans in closer. “What’s important right now, is you. What you need to know is that when we met on the street, what I felt was real. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed you to show up at the bar, and it had nothing to do with duty.”
“But I was your assignment. You found me to use me. And think before you answer. You said you wouldn’t lie to me again.”
“Yes, Ashley. You were my assignment.”
“And you’re an assassin.”
“What are you asking?”
“Was part of that assignment killing me?”
Chapter seven
Ashley
His answer isn’t fast, and I lean forward this time. We’re close and staring at each other. “Were your orders to kill me?” I demand.
“Only if you became a problem. You were never going to be a problem. I had to create a cover story, a believable life, complete with a girlfriend, and why wouldn’t I choose a woman I couldn’t stop watching?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How many times have you chosen women as targets because they were fuckable?”
His jaw sets hard. “That is not how it was with you.”
“But it was with others?” I snap back.
“If you’re asking me if I ever fucked someone who didn’t know who I was, yes, I did.”
“Why me?” I repeat. “There are hundreds of choices at the firm. I was low on the food chain, a paralegal.”
“That made me less obvious.”
I swallow hard and sit back. Once again, my inability to finally make that law degree happen slaps me in the face. “Because I was nothing and disposable.”
“The fact that you had no family ties made you appealing, yes, but it also made us appealing. In that, we were the same. We were alone without each other.”
“Your family—”
“Everything I told you about me was true.”
“Liar. Noah.” I stand up and try to turn away, but he’s there instantly, catching my wrist and turning me to him.
“I am Noah. I broke every protocol in existence by using that name with you. That’s how much I needed to be real with you.”
“I don’t know how you want me to respond to that,” I whisper. “It’s a name. Just a name. You are so many things I didn’t know you were. And how do I even know it’s true?”
“Right. Just a name.” He releases me, and I’m stunned when he leaves me there. He actually walks out of the kitchen.
He’s pissed. Now I’m even more pissed. I rotate and follow him. “Are you really angry because a name isn’t enough for me? Do you know how much you hurt me? Do you even care?”
He whirls and pulls me to him. “It’s not just a fucking name. I was an assistant district attorney. I went after the kingpin of a cartel. I didn’t back down. I was going to end up in witness protection, just like you. That’s when the CIA recruited me. And yes, I’m a fucking assassin. And no, I don’t regret one single person I’ve killed. They were all like that kingpin.”
“You said you’d have killed me if I became a problem.”
His energy whips and cuts. “Do you really believe I’d have killed you?”
“That’s not the point. You just said—”
“I don’t regret anyone I’ve ever killed. The end. You’re going to have to decide if you can live with that answer when this is over, when I get you your freedom back because I will. Unless you grab that gun and kill me. Just make sure you won’t have any regrets.”
He releases me but doesn’t walk away. “The gun is right there in the kitchen waiting on you. I’m surprised you left it. That’s what you wanted. The damn gun.”
“I don’t want the damn gun. Not to use on you.”
He studies me several long beats. “Don’t call me Noah. Ever again. I’m Aaron. Keep it that way.”
With that, it’s as if he’s shut a door. He turns away and walks to a small bar in the corner, pouring himself a whiskey. It’s then that I realize the assassin part of his story overshadowed everything else. I find myself closing the space between us, and when we are once again facing each other, his stare is intense, unreadable, heavy.