Page 27 of Three of a Kind

Some of it has to be pregnancy hormones, but I’m exhausted on a soul-deep level.

Chapter Nine

Noble

Who knows what the hell I’m doing, because I don’t. There’s just something about Brooklyn that draws me to her.

The whole point of coming to New York was to treat her like any other job, but that flew out the window the first time she smiled at me in the hall.

I’d seen her before, but she hadn’t spotted me.

I’ll never forget the moment. She had Libby on one hip and more bags of groceries than I’ve ever seen one person carry on the other arm.

She still lit up and waved.

I knew right then I was fucked.

Well, if not right that second, I definitely caught on when I scented her as I helped her with her ridiculous number of bags.

We stand just outside of Libby’s door as I give Brooklyn a squeeze. She runs her fingers over my lower back, and I ache to lift her and hold her to my chest.

Maybe gently push her back to the wall, so I could brush my lips over hers.

It’s taken a lot of subtle hints to even get myself to where we are now.

Pushing too hard will get me nowhere.

She’s skittish, and for good reason.

“Do you want to finish the movie, or are you ready to call it a night?” I ask, giving her back a final pat.

Her face rolls around my shirt, and she finally nods. “I’m not ready for tonight to end just yet.”

I grin, bending down and kissing the top of her head, like a total fucking weirdo.

When did I become the type to give forehead or hair kisses?

I’m clearly totally fucking done for.

It doesn’t take long for Brooklyn to fall asleep against my shoulder. Her dark eyelashes fan over her cheeks, and she’s quite stunning, even as she softly snores.

I’ll bet she is tired.

Pregnancy can’t be easy, and managing that with a toddler is an entirely different beast.

Her piece-of-shit ex deserves everything he’s got coming his way.

Merely thinking about him causes a low growl to rattle in my chest.

He actually believed he’d be able to hire me.

I’m not sure which one of my former clients misrepresented my services, but they should have known better.

They don’t call me “the Cleaner” for nothing. My jobs are so efficient they pass for natural causes, accidents, suicide, or, in some cases, homicides by a rival faction, but they all have one thing in common. They’ll never be traced back to the person who hired me.

My tech skills are unmatched, making it easy enough to clean my existence right out of the life of whoever hired me. That might be half of why I’m so efficient, but the other side is my methodical practices when following through with a kill contract.

Only, I don’t take jobs that involve women, and under no circumstances have I ever given any indication that I would take on a project that had a kid as one of the targets.

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