Page 22 of Slay Bells Ring

“I don’t want to die. God, I really don’t want to die,” she whispers to herself.

Her problems aren’t mine, and yet I feel responsible. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I get up and wander toward her sofa bed, carefully avoiding the bloodstain on the floor from our would-be hitman. Once I reach her, I kneel in front of her, and I can tell she doesn’t want to look at me right now, but she begrudgingly does so, anyway.

A single tear hasescaped, trailing down her cheek. Never has a tear made me feel like something’s twisting inside of me, making me hurt somewhere deep.

“You’re not going to die,” I tell her. “You’re not. Know why? I won’t let it happen. You’re not alone here. You have me. Every single hitman in the world could try to waltz in through that door and I would take them all down. I wouldn’t let any of them get to you.”

Keeping her safe… it’s the least I could do for her, considering. I don’t know that there’s a single man in the world who’d be better up to the task of protecting her than me.

“I’ll protect you,” I whisper. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Why? Why do you care what happens to me?”

I reach for her face, and Holly’s eyes flutter closed when the back of my fingers run along her cheek, wiping away the wetness from her single tear. “Because,” I say, the weight of what I’m about to tell her bearing down on me full-force, “you’re my problem now, Holly fucking Cooper.”

And it’s true. This girl is my problem. My business. She came here to kill me, not to die. I won’t let anyone hurt her. If they want her, they’ll have to go through me—and they’ll find, as the first had, that I’m not so easily taken down.

No, the only thing that can take me down is a pair of green eyes.

As my hand falls from her face, Holly glances behind her, at the small pull-out bed. I hear her swallow before she asks quietly, “Um, do you think… maybe you can, uh—” It becomes very clear to me she’s not accustomed to asking for help of any kind. “—lay here? With me?” The last two words are spoken so quickly, like she wasn’t sure I could understand her question without those added to it.

How could I say no while she looks at me with those emerald eyes so full of concern? I guess life-and-death situations really do change things fast; something I should already know.

I give her a nod. “Sure. Give me a moment.”

I get up and go to bolster the front door. Our last hitman picked the outer lock. It isn’t exactly top of the line hardware here, but that’s fine. I re-lock it and pull the chair I was sitting in before towards it, leaning it underneath the handle. If someone tries to come in again, they’ll make a hell of a lot more noise.

Of course, there are ways to kill her without ever entering the cabin, but the snowstorm outside should prevent any snipers. It seems as though whoever wants her dead wants to be sure she’s dead, therefore a close-up kill is necessary.

Doesn’t matter. Nobody’s going to put a bullet in Holly while I’m standing. Protecting her is a better way to go than getting lost in a snowstorm. And besides, maybe helping her will put my soul at peace before I go.

When I return to the sofa bed, I see Holly moved toward the top of the bed, where it still looks like half a sofa. She fixed the blankets so it’s easy for me to crawl in. Only problem is, well, being made out of a small sofa, the pull-out is also pretty damn small. I’ll need to lay on my side with my knees bent to fit.

As I sit down on the edge, I ask her, “Do you want to put anything between us, or—”

“What are we, five?” Her question comes with an attitude, telling me she’s at least snapped out of her morose mood. “I think we’re both old enough that we can sleep on the same bed without touching each other.”

“Right.” I lower myself down, giving Holly my back. The sofa bed truly is the most uncomfortable place I’ve laid down in my entire life. Suddenly I feel a little bad for forcing her to sleep out here while I claimed the real bed of the cabin.

We could go to the bedroom, but I’d rather be here to hear the first signs of anyone trying to come in. With the knife in my pocket, I’m ready for action.

I just hope this damned sofa bed doesn’t give me a crick in my back or something.

After everything, I honestly don’t expect sleep to come, let alone anticipate it coming so easily, but it does come, and it is effortless as it sweeps over me. It’s almost like I feel lighter, freer, now that I admitted the truth to someone else.

Holly Cooper, as short as the time we’ve spent together is, knows more about me than anyone else in the world—and I have the feeling it’s the same for her with me.

Chapter Eleven – Holly

Color me psychotic, but I didn’t think I’d sleep after nearly getting a bullet to the head and having to dig out said bullet from a man’s chest. I was wrong, though. I do sleep. I sleep hard. Nothing in the world could wake me up.

Except daylight. Daylight is the only thing that can come and crash the party.

When daylight forces me to wake, I yawn and try to stretch—but for some reason I can’t move. I open my eyes and see the top of the sofa, and my brows crease. I try to move again, and this time I feel the large presence behind me, AKA the reason I couldn’t stretch.

Right. I asked Kane to sleep with me last night after the whole assassin incident, and he agreed. I then assured him we were fine, that we didn’t need a barricade in between us. I thought we were both adults and could handle ourselves as such.

Judging by the strong arm wrapped around me and the large presence spooning me from behind, I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

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