Page 7 of Lady Death

“—and I want to get dressed and leave. So. I killed them to avenge my friend. They raped and murdered her.”

Some of the ice in his green gaze thawed a little.

“That explains the dicks in the mouth,” he muttered. “I was hired to kill them.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re a hitman?”

“Among other things. You’renota hitman?”

“No,” she replied, tilting her head. “Is it a lucrative business?”

“Only when someone isn’t sniping my bounty out from under me. If you had waited, I would’ve done the dirty work for you.”

“I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me. I’ve come too far for that. Now, I told you my reason, time for you to give me my clothes. I have someone probably freaking out.”

He narrowed his eyes. “A man?”

“None of your business. Let me get dressed and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“I can’t.”

“What the fuck do mean, you can’t?”

“They were covered in blood, yours and Peterson’s. It was prudent to burn them.”

She disliked that he made sense. “Very well, then give me some of your clothes. I’m not going home naked.”

“No, that wouldn’t be very smart. A beautiful woman like you would bring a lot of attention, and I’m thinking you don’t like attention.”

“I’m sure neither do you.”

“Touché. By the way, I had someone clean up your DNA in the bathroom and alley.”

“What?”

“You bled a lot over the bathroom. I have someone on my payroll that cleans fuckups. You’ll never be linked to Peterson’s death.”

He walked over to a closet and grabbed some clothes, holding them out as he brought them to her. “None of my stuff will fit you, obviously. This is probably as good as it’s going to get.”

“Thank you,” Keres said softly, inspecting the t-shirt and basketball shorts. “For the clothes. And for the clean-up.”

“Bathroom is through there.” He nodded toward a closed door.

She marched over, still wrapped in the blanket, only dropping it when the door closed behind her. Keres inspected her wound, appreciating that Mr. Hitman cleansed it and stuck butterfly bandages on the sliced skin. Luckily, it didn’t seem too deep. Dressing quickly, she rolled the band of the shorts down to keep them from falling. The only thing she had on her mind was to get out of this place and let Darby know she was okay.

When she rejoined her captor … rescuer … what-the-hell-ever, she placed a hand on her hip. “Just hand over my stuff and I’ll go.”

“What stuff?”

She blinked. “My weapons.”

“You didn’t have any weapons.”

“Liar. I had knives strapped to my thighs and a spare in the lining of my dress. There’s no way you overlooked them.”

They stared at one another, each not moving an inch. Giving no quarter at all.

“Maybe there were knives,” he relented. “You can have them back if you tell me your name.”

---