Page 9 of Agent vs. Assassin

He scowls. “What?”

“It’s an excellent weapon, proven by John Wick. You did watchJohn Wick, right?”

“A movie isn’t reality.”

“No, but the way he killed with a pencil was pretty badass. And it’s kind of the perfect weapon. You can burn it or just shred it, and there’s no evidence.” I motion toward him with my fork. “Do you like the pie?”

He tilts his head and then sets his fork down. “I don’t want to kill you, Lilah.”

Lilah again, as if this is personal. It’s not. “And yet, I want to kill you,” I confess, “but not until I get what I want from you, and you know it.”

He narrows his gaze on me. “You really are a killer, aren’t you?”

“You waited until you were alone with me to figure this out?”

“I’m bigger than you, in case you didn’t remember that devastating detail.”

“A very small gun can kill a very big man, in case you’ve forgotten that devastating detail, though I don’t favor my firearm.” My brows dip in thought. “And I don’t believe I’ve killed anyone who wasn’t to date. No. They were all much bigger. Well, there was one woman. The rest were men.”

“You’re an FBI agent.”

“Kane’s father said the same thing to me earlier today, as if I wouldn’t kill him because of my badge.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“He faked it. For now. That won’t last. But back to my point: while it’s true that it’s not encouraged that I kill everyone who crosses me, I’m better at that than I am making arrests. And what they don’t know won’t kill them, right?” I scoop another bite of pie. “Damn, I love this pie,” I murmur and then add, “Kane is growing weary of the cleanup, though, so I’m trying to do better.”

“Okay, then, if that’s true, why do you kill?”

“Not for money. I have money. So do you now, so we both know that’s not why you continue to kill.”

“I want more money.”

“You enjoy the rush of it,” I correct. “For me, well, I blame my father. I crossed the people trying to put him in power, and he agreed to allow them to get rid of me. I’m not sure if he meant for them to drug and rape me too, but while they tried, Kane showed up and pulled him off of me.” I swipe whipped cream from the pie onto my finger. “He wanted to question him, but rage won and I stabbed him. Excessively, per Kane. He hid the crime so I wouldn’t lose my badge. I blamed him, left him, and then came back to do it all over again. Some think my badge protects him when the truth is he protects my badge.”

“And what did your father say when you confronted him?”

“When I found out it was him years later, he told me that I deserved it.”

His jaw tics, and I think I see anger in the depths of his eyes. I’ve hit a nerve, and it’s not about my story, but his. “You want me to kill him?” he offers.

“Why would I give you what will bring me joy?”

“Because killing a father isn’t like killing anyone else.”

Another telltale sign this is about him, not me. “I need him alive.”

“Why?”

“Because I need everyone in the Society dead. Where he goes, they go.”

He picks up his fork and takes a bite of the pie. “Impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible.”

He sets his fork down again. “They’re as good at hiding as I am, and I’m pretty fucking good.”

“And the closer my father gets to the White House, the closer they’ll get to him.”

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