Page 102 of Scarlet Angel

“We both know you don’t need to.”

“I’d like to know more about this source of yours.”

“You’re not the only one who identified my loyalty issues.”

“Your MI6 bloke?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Your mobile was checked. One contact. Are there others?”

“No.” She pushes up off the floor and leans against the railing of the bed.

“In Italy?”

“I told you. I didn’t trust her. And I don’t trust the Englishman. But I am in touch with him.”

We’re going in circles. I lack the energy for this.

“Scarlet, I need you to trust me. There can’t be secrets.”

She steps to me, one foot on each side of my thighs, and descends, straddling me. It hurts like blazes so I lift her with a grunt, straighten my legs, and let her settle back down.

Eye-level with me, she says in a tone that brokers no doubt, “You may be the only person in this world I trust.”

“What did I do to earn your trust?”

Her gaze lifts to the ceiling, contemplating my question, and she flattens a palm over my heart. “You were patient with me. You love your sister. And you care about my safety.”

I fumble with the button on her shirt. “Keeping you safe is rather important to me.”

Her shirt splays open, revealing a cream brassiere that’s frayed on one edge from repeated wear. I pull her forward until my face rests in the crook of her neck and shoulder, breathing in her light as she embraces me.

“Do you think you could ever trust me?” she asks.

“I’m only alive today because I don’t trust anyone.” I don’t even trust my sister. Oh, I don’t think she’d stab me in the back on purpose, but she’s an addict. In a moment of weakness, her demons might win.

Scarlet withdraws from our embrace and presses on my shoulders. Our foreheads touch, and she brushes her nose over mine. She’s so close I’m a tad cross-eyed taking her in.

“Trust me. I’m an excellent marksman. Skilled in on-the-ground combat moves. Multi-lingual. And I have nothing to lose.”

That hurts.

What am I?“If that’s true, you’ll have no issue leaving.”

She pulls back. “I’m not leaving.”

“Why?”Say it.

“You.” With a trick of light, her bright green irises transition and could be mistaken for sky blue.

“Precisely. You have something to lose. We both do.”

She places a finger lightly over my lips, and I trap it, kissing her finger, then her palm. My chest cavity floods with warmth and emotion clogs my throat.No need to get sappy, mate.

She should go. Every logical fiber in my being screams to force her to safety. But who better to keep her safe than me? Any bastard out there would have to kill me to get to this woman. And they bloody well might.

The smart play would be to let her go. Put an ocean between her and the vipers. But I've never claimed to be smart when it comes to her.

---