Page 20 of Assistant to the Assassin

His eyebrows raise a tad. “I didn’t know you were bi. So am I.”

“I didn’t know that either,” I admit. “But you and I aren’t ones for chitchat, so it doesn’t shock me that there are things we don’t know about each other.”

Ian agrees with a grunt. “I think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

It probably is. “Yeah, and now you see why I don’t talk to people.”

Ian’s silent for a moment, then he says with sincerity, “I’ve never been super religious, but I never bought the idea that all sins are weighed equally. If God is the way you believe he is, then he’ll see your pure intentions.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t care.” For all that I said about not justifying my life choices to Ian I sure have done just that.

“That’s your problem, Henry.” I lock eyes with him and find his expression soft, his gaze earnest. “You do care, you’re just too scared to let yourself acknowledge it or, God forbid, let someone care about you too. You’re the most miserable grump I’ve ever seen, and it’s your own damn fault. You seem to think that guarding your heart will guard you from pain. It won’t. Life is pain, but a lucky few of us get to experience some love and joy mixed in. You have a chance to have some of that now that you’ve been compromised. Live on your little island with Beth and be happy.”

He speaks of it like it’s so simple. “I don’t know how to be happy or content.”

“I moved to a quaint place like Worsley because I didn’t know either. My life has always been about serving my country and defending the innocent, and ever since I retired, I’ve had a hard time learning how to be at peace. I think it just takes time.”

I eye him curiously. “If you loved it so much, why did you retire?”

Ian’s expression stays indifferent, but I know in his heart he’s grieving. “Because I wanted to know what it felt like to serve myself, not others—to put myself first for once. I realized I had never thought about what I wanted to do.”

“Have you figured out what you want to do?”

He gives me the smallest of smirks. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

I chuck my phone out the window on my drive down Washington Highway towards Baltimore. It’s an easy way of tracking me, and as much as I hate to throw away my progress on Plants vs Zombies, the risk isn’t worth it. I’m a little sad about having to part ways with it, but I am even more devastated having to say goodbye to my car, which is another easy thing to track. It’s a 2014 Nissan Murano, and I affectionally named it Pietro after Quicksilver from the Marvel movies.

I have a crush on Aaron Taylor-Johnson, what can I say?

It’s not the most fancy car, but it does have seat warmers and a bunch of airbags. Henry always joked that it’s basically a marshmallow. I’ve had this car since I went to college. It’s been with me through school, the CIA, working with Henry…

And now I have to fucking abandon it in an airport parking lot.

After getting my bag and cooler out of the back, I take a pen and sticky note from the center console and write a little note that reads “touch my car and you die.” I then stick it on the dashboard, place a kiss on the steering wheel, and whisper, “Farewell Pietro.”

I’m not ashamed to say I got a little teary eyed when I got onto the charter plane. I loved that car, dammit, and thankfully the pilot let a girl mourn her vehicle. He didn’t ask questions, just said there’s napkins in the barf bags for me to wipe my tears. This is where his consideration ended, however, because as soon as we were in the air, the man made it his mission to make the trip as quickly as possible, which caused a lot of turbulence and a few near collisions with birds that resulted in abrupt turns. He also played Jimmy Buffet the entire trip, and while I love “Margaritaville,” listening to him for three hours straight had me two seconds away from chucking myself out of the plane.

I was thankful to be rid of him when we reached Florida. He sent me off with a wink and a smile around the rim of a bourbon bottle, and while I forced a smile back at him, I was internally imagining pouring that bottle all over his bald head.

As I walk towards the front of the small airport we landed at, I attempt to flag down one of the taxis waiting for passengers, but none of them seem to be paying attention. I’m practically dancing around like a monkey, but it’s to no avail.

“Ever think they’re ignoring you because you’re acting like you have an ice cube in your shirt?” a gruff, familiar voice says from behind me.

I turn around, my heart stopping dead in my chest as I lock eyes with Henry. He looks exhausted. I would venture to guess he hasn’t rested since we last spoke, but despite the dark circles under his eyes and his weary expression, he looks just as handsome as ever. The fear, worry, and anticipation I’ve felt since we were compromised hits me all at once, and I rush towards him at full speed, tears welling in my eyes. Henry opens up his arms and catches me, burying his face into the crook of my neck, breathing me in. I nuzzle into his chest, clutching on to his shirt like my life depends on it.

“I missed you so fucking much,” I whisper, feeling my tears skate down my cheeks, dampening his shirt.

I expect him to reply with a witty comeback or remark on how it’s only been a day or so since we last saw each other, but instead he holds me tighter and murmurs in my ear, “I missed you, too, B.”

“As lovely as this reunion is, we should really get going,” another voice says from behind Henry, and I tense up, confused by this random person’s comment.

Henry pulls back from me and gestures to the behemoth of a man wearing sunglasses, jeans, and a navy-blue polo shirt. “This is Ian. We were in the SEALs together; he helped me get here and he’s graciously taking us to Neverland.”

Ian barks out a laugh. “Neverland?”

I give him an indignant nod. “Yes, Neverland. Do you have a problem with that?”

He smirks, holding his hands up in surrender. “Not at all.”

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