Page 12 of One Kill

“Always so cocky, huh? You’ve known her all of five minutes and all of a sudden you’re better at this than me?” Mechanically, he hands me my coffee with a spoon even though I take it black. My smile is instant and genuine, feeling almost foreign on my lips. I’d forgotten how it felt to have someone know me, someone know that I like to stir my coffee while it cools down even if there’s nothing there to stir together. No one else knows anything beyond me killing and cleaning up the messes. This feels more intimate than actual sex, to be honest. I’m The Shadow for a reason and, until this very second, I basked in the comfort of being invisible to most.

“Here you go, black like a starry night.” It’s like thirteen years was just a hot minute as his words reach out and remind me why I fell in love with him so quickly back then.

“Thank you.” I can be polite.

“You’re welcome.” Watching him fill a cup of whole milk and put it into the microwave stirs up a whole other set of emotions. Memories of us as kids, so fucking in love, staying up late despite our parents’ best efforts to keep us apart on school nights, rush to the forefront of my mind and that fucking heat in my chest grows hot enough to give me heartburn.

“I need to know something, Jaybear.” My walls come crashing down, my senses on high alert. Nothing good ever comes from those words put together in that way.

“I may not be able to answer, Murph, and you need to be okay with that.” Bringing the hot mug to my lips, I keep my eyes fixed on him over the rim. Not only can I not tell him about anything related to the Mancinis’, but I don’t want to. I refuse to place him in the line of fire.

“I gathered from your stealthy entrance that you’re not working some office job from nine to five.” His sarcasm doesn’t sit well with me but I can’t deny the truth behind his words.

Still, I scoff, shaking my head as I put the mug back on the counter. “You taught me how to pick a lock, Murph. Hypocrite much?”

“We were twelve, it was exciting.”

“I was a child and you corrupted me.” I can barely keep a straight face at my accusation. Back then, I followed my father everywhere he went. If a boy could do it, I could do it, and my dad was completely on board with that line of thought.

“Right. So the time you showed me how to hotwire a car, that was my fault?”

I shrug at his words like he’s hit the nail on the head.

Murphy leans on the counter, his elbows and forearms pressed against the faux marble as his face leans dangerously close. He was my north star, the boy who respected me above anyone else. Well, besides his father, that is. That man hung the moon.

So, it’s no surprise the effect his proximity has on me. The scent of mint with a hint of engine oil from his hours working on cars and motorcycles. It stirs up memories I can’t allow myself to linger on.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” The microwave beeps but he doesn’t move.

“Don’t.” I’m not stupid, I know how to read a room.

“Don’t what, Jaybear?” Is he inching closer or is that me leaning into him?

“Don’t read more into this than there really is.” The chemistry we shared from back when hormones controlled our bodies is back and refuses to be ignored. It’s in the crackle of electricity bouncing from his exposed skin to mine.

“I’m not reading anything, just waiting on my warm milk.” Those chocolate brown eyes that used to reel me in every fucking time are boring into me like some kind of magic spell, keeping me from looking away.

I don’t answer because his breath is suddenly close enough for me to taste on the tip of my tongue as it darts out to lick my suddenly dry lips.

“I didn’t think you could get more beautiful.” He reaches out with one finger, pushing a strand of my blonde hair back behind my ear. “Yet here you are, fucking stunning.”

My eyes dart to the door as my heart hammers behind my ribcage. This leather is keeping all the heat inside and I can’t even blame my coffee since I’ve only taken a sip. It’s him. His presence, his scent, the way his eyes see only me. I haven’t had that kind of undivided attention since I was fifteen and having sex for the first time with the boy I loved more than life itself.

“You’re half asleep and talking out of your ass, Murph.” I order my body to get up and off this stool but I’m held down by the mere force of his stare.

“Fucking. Stunning.” He repeats the words like I didn’t hear him the first time.

I’m not blind and I don’t lack any self-confidence, but listening to others give me compliments makes me uncomfortable. What am I supposed to say? Thank you? Why would I thank someone for commenting on my looks? So, I deflect. It’s what I do.

“You’re full of shit.” His lips are close enough that if I dart my tongue out again, I’ll touch him.

“Stay tonight. Have breakfast with us tomorrow.” I blink, the spell he has on me dissipating just a little.

“I can’t…” I don’t know why I can’t but it feels like the right answer.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Fuck, when did he become so mature? Well, yeah… probably in the last thirteen years while he was raising our daughter. Alone.

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