Page 20 of Deadly Little Sparrow

His shirt is gone now too, tossed carelessly aside while I undressed. He’s lying on his side, facing me with his head propped up on his arm. That warm feeling fills my chest again. I’ve fucked plenty of men, but climbing into Sparrow’s bed feels more significant than any quick fuck ever has.

“Last week… Was Velcro your first?”

He hesitates before nodding. “But I’ve had… training.”

“Training?” I echo, raising both eyebrows. “Is there a Murder Academy I’m unaware of? Some kind of apprenticeship program that pairs aspiring killers with seasoned mentors?”

A grin spreads over his lips. “In a way.”

I wait for him to elaborate and when he doesn’t, frustration tightens inside of me. “So determined to hold your cards close to the vest, aren’t you, Little Sparrow? Even after I’ve shown you my hand over and over.”

Maybe coming here was a mistake after all. He’s told me to stay out of his way, and I’ve been determined to bulldoze through his barriers anyway. I make a move to get out of bed. I may be slow on the uptake, but taking the hint late is better than never, right?

“Xav.” He grabs my arm and tugs me back. “I paid The Phantom every penny I had in my trust fund to train me.”

“The Phantom?” I repeat his words, settling back into bed and staring at him in disbelief. “The Phantom? The Russian hitman with more confirmed kills than anyone else alive? The man who allegedly took out the leader of the largest crime syndicate in the world while he was in protective custody?”

“That’s the one. Don’t spread that around because he was pretty clear that he would kill me without a second thought if other rich brats started showing up at his door begging to be turned into murder machines. Those were his exact words, actually.”

“Shit,” I mutter, putting an arm around Sparrow and drawing him close with the paranoid need to protect him from unseen dangers.

He laughs but snuggles closer to me under the covers. “This is fucking weird, you get that, right? I don’t know what’s safe to tell anyone else and what will make me look weak.”

The quiver of vulnerability in his voice reminds me of his small stature and the fact that without all the bravado and violence, someone might have already decided he would be an easy target. I tighten my hold on him again, an unintended growl vibrating in my chest.

“I want to help you with the Sleepless Reapers,” I tell him for the second time tonight, this time with the full blessing of my boss. “I can have the last three dead before the weekend and their entire club shitting their pants as they run for the hills.”

Sparrow stiffens in my arms. “No.”

“Sparrow—”

“No,” he says again. “Do you know what they did to my brother?” He sits up, pushing the covers off. I notice the name Benny tattooed across the left side of his chest in a scrawl that looks like a signature. Sparrow strokes a hand over the tattoo. “Benny was more than my brother, he was my best friend. And those pieces of shit got him hooked on their drugs and passed him around. They fucked him while he was fucking overdosing, and when they realized he was dead, they tossed his body into a ditch like trash.”

His voice vibrates with barely controlled rage, and when he turns his head towards me again, I can see it shining in his eyes.

“You said I’m too emotional and you’re right. This is as personal as it fucking gets, and if I don’t do this myself, Benny won’t ever be able to rest.”

“Sparrow,” I say his name again, not sure what my next words are going to be. I can’t relate to his pain, but I understand it.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he says, lying back down.

I nod wordlessly. At least this time he didn’t ask me to agree to stay out of things, because I’m even less inclined to agree now than I was earlier. He needs to slay this demon so he can rest again, and I have the skills to help him do it. Tonight might not be the night to convince him, but I’ve already decided he’s not doing this alone.

The tension in his body relaxes and he closes his eyes. I lie awake, alert, counting his steady breaths and watching the flutter of his eyelids when dreams pull him under. I stay in his bed, memorizing the feeling of his bare skin under my fingertips and the sound of his soft snoring until the sky outside starts to lighten with the impending sunrise.

I slip out of his bed and dress silently. Before I leave, I search his small apartment for a piece of paper to write my number on. I don’t find any paper, but I do find a black permanent marker. I use the marker to write my phone number down on my tie, along the thin strip that isn’t crusted with my cum. I bunch it up and stuff it into his hand so he won’t miss it when he wakes up, then I find the leather jacket he usually wears and slip a small tracker into the pocket, hiding it in a tear in the lining, just in case.

“Sleep well, Little Sparrow. I’ll see you soon,” I whisper into the dark.

SPARROW

I sit bolt upright, using my hand to shield my eyes from the late morning sun and fighting off the kind of sleepy confusion that will have you thinking you missed the school bus even though you’re thirty. Something feels off, and it takes me at least a minute to realize that I wasn’t alone when I fell asleep, but I am now.

“Xaviaro?” I call out in a raspy voice. I’m met with silence, and I frown, bringing both hands to my face to rub the sleep from my eyes. There’s something soft balled up in one of my hands though.

I blink and unravel it, the fog finally clearing from my mind as the details from last night all come rushing back to me. Xaviaro on his knees for me. Xaviaro weeping when the sub drop hit him like a ton of bricks. Xaviaro in my bed, holding me close, offering to kill for me.

He would kill for me, but couldn’t be bothered to wake me before leaving? I grumble at that, rubbing the silky material between my thumb and forefinger. I flip it over and realize there’s something written there in black marker. A phone number. Xaviaro’s phone number.

---