Page 39 of Agony

Of course, he’d remind the assassin that taking orders was something ingrained in his head from the military so when he’d gotten orders, he followed them.

He rubbed a tired hand down his face. His sleep had been shit for weeks.

Had Fisher been afraid?

Justice knew what that felt like. He’d grown up in fear when he was little, so he knew about the need to run. It warred with the need to be held. It was a feeling where you didn’t want anyone to interfere combined with wanting them close.

It put a person in a fucking limbo.

Kind of like he was right now.

Did he and Fisher even have a chance now?

Easing off the gas, he got over several cars behind Rogue’s jeep. He didn’t want to spook the guy. Knowing Rogue, the assassin would disappear and take Fisher with him.

All he wanted at the moment was to know how Fisher was and if he was safe. Not that assassins could ever be safe.

Rogue drove until they rode through a shabby part of Glendale and ended up in an apartment building that had seen better days.

The sidewalks were cracked and cratered. Overgrown trees peppered the block and weeds filled the parkways. The parking lot was sunken in with the apartment building positioned at the rear.

Justice parked down the block, locked his truck, and made his way between parked cars until he slid between a beat-up old pickup truck and an RV that looked to be from the seventies.

It was there that he stood indecisive and it was also there that he was caught.

“What are you doing here?”

Fisher’s voice spun him around. How the fuck had the guy gotten so close without him even hearing?

He’d been distracted with his thoughts, that was how.

But fuck…

It was so damned good to see the sexy dark-haired beauty.

Fisher looked thinner. His eyes were blank and held a coldness he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It broke his heart.

“I just wanted to say—”

“What?”

“Sorry.”

Confusion and then anger flashed in Fisher eyes and the man charged forward. “What are you fucking sorry for?”

Justice grabbed Fisher and tried to hold him. He carded his fingers into the long black strands at the nape of the man’s neck and cradled the back of his head. Wrapping an arm around Fisher’s waist, he brought the slighter man’s body flush to his.

Fisher shoved him.

Justice hung on.

Fisher punched him in the side, sending a pain shooting through his ribs and Justice released his grip.

When Fisher shoved away, the man threw another punch, but this time at his face. The blow cracked against Justice’s cheek, pain splintered, but he welcomed it.

Fisher could kill him with his bare hands, Justice knew that without a doubt.

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