Page 115 of Remy

He’s taken those consoling hands, ended a life, and now stands unfazed against my childhood home in his black button-down and dress pants.

I park in the closest space, cut the engine, and climb out, his inscrutable gaze on me as I stride toward him, clutching the lapels of his jacket tight against my chest to fight the cold.

He takes in my attire with that indecipherable stare, lazily eying me up and down as grunts and groans carry from inside the building.

“Don’t tell me you were still awake.” He pushes from the brick wall, dragging the coat I’d left at the club out from behind his back.

I meet his gaze, struggling to understand him, fighting to make sense of my thoughts as I reach for my garment. “You killed someone?”

His eyes harden. “We tend not to verbalize things that could put us in prison.”

I fill with dread, my mouth working over words I can’t find. Shit. I’m so incredibly bad at this. Such a goddamn fucking liability. All I can do is nod in apology and hope he doesn’t kill me. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re still learning the ropes.”

His words contradict the tightness of his features. The misstep was definitely not okay. Yet again, he’s protecting me.

I shuck his suit jacket and hand it back, my gratitude—for his clothing, his patience, his everything—sucking me up in a convoluted vortex. I reclaim my coat, pull it on, and pretend I don’t notice when his attention catches on the newest addition to my jewelry collection, his focus pinned at the top of my cleavage where his ring gently dangles.

I pretend and pretend. But those short seconds of his scrutiny on my chest make my cheeks flush with a rush of warmth. When his eyes finally raise to mine, I struggle against a wave of goose bumps taking over my body.

I swallow the discomfort and make to walk around him to enter the building.

“Hold up.” He outstretches an arm, blocking my path. “Bearing witness wasn’t in the agreement.”

I pause, my lips stupidly moving without sound again. His proximity addles my thoughts. His entire existence does. “Wouldn’t keeping me outside be more hazardous?” I lower my voice, trying to be cautious with the situation. “If I wait in my car I’m not part of the crime. I’m an outsider. Yet if I’m in the building, I’m an accomplice.”

He stares down at me. Intense. Contemplative.

“I can handle it, Remy.” I straighten my shoulders. “This is what I do.”

“It’ll change you,” he warns.

I fight not to roll my eyes. Has he forgotten what I do for a living? What I’ve done for years?

“I assure you it won’t.” I continue forward, striding into his arm. Pushing past it.

I wait for him to stop me, almost aching for the possessive contact. But he makes no move to grab me so I keep moving, turning sideways to squeeze between the van and the brickwork.

He follows like a silent shadow into the brightly lit room, his presence a balm and a trigger all at once, until I reach the front of the vehicle and my feet root themselves to the floor.

The two threatening men from last weekend stand a few yards away, hunched over a male body on the floor, patting pockets and riffling through the victim’s clothes.

“Is that…?” I heave a breath, all the blood in my face rushing to my feet. The decedent’s face is mangled. Bruised. Bloodied. Misshapen. But I recognize the hair. The faux-hawk. “Did you…?”

Remy steps in front of me, blocking my view. “Yes.”

I stare up at him in panic. “But you said…” I shake my head. “I thought…”

“I gave you the choice—to take his life or walk away. But he was never going to live after what he did.”

My eyes search his, those calm, dark depths hiding such incredible violence as my breathing turns ragged.

“You deserved retribution. And he earned his punishment.” He stares down at me, unapologetic in his callousness. “When I told you I’d protect you, I didn’t just mean from my brother and Lorenzo. You’re family now. Nobody touches you and gets away with it.”

Oh, God.

I break eye contact and weave my arms around my middle, holding myself tight. “I don’t want you killing people because of me.”

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