Page 53 of Eyes in the Shadows

Her timid curiosity catches me a bit off guard. “Special forces sniper for eight years.”

“Hundreds,” she says softly, and I know she’s remembering before when she asked how many I’d killed. And she’s right. Most of that number is from my military days. “What’s the pipeline from military to hitman?”

I rub gently, focusing on my task, but the question is a good one. It’s one that Wes and Dimitri know the answer to, more or less, but I haven’t really talked about it to anyone else before. “They gave the order, I shot. Boom, done. No questions, no opportunity to do any due diligence. If the intel was bad orincomplete, we usually found out too late. It started to… bother me. I wanted to understand, to know what I was doing.”

She laughs, and it’s so far from the reaction I’m expecting, that I look over with a confused frown. “What? You gonna call me an asshole for killing without asking questions?”

“No, it’s not that… it’s actually, weirdly, I kind of understand. You got out for the same reason I’ve been thinking about leaving my job. You want to see the impact of what you do and to understand its significance. Don’t get me wrong… our jobs have wildly different levels of significance, but, I don’t know. It just seems related somehow,” she shakes her head, preparing to backpedal. “Maybe that doesn’t make any sense, but in my head it does.”

I crack a smile. This isn’t at all where I expected this conversation to go. I’m glad I let her speak first. “I’m surprised you’d even want to compare what we do like that. You’ve been pretty clear on your feelings about my job.”

“I guess I was just coming to terms with the fact that there really are people out there who kill for money. Maybe I didn’t think the why mattered, since the what isn’t great. And it didn’t help that you’re so… so blasé about it. Killing. Death in general.”

I hesitate to admit how easy it’s gotten because I know that’s a fucked-up thing to say. It’s a fucked-up thing to feel. And I know she’s grappling with some heavy, good-and-bad/right-and-wrong shit right now.

“I’m not trying to be blasé. It’s not like I think human life has no value at all… but I guess the way I see it, I’ve got an opportunity that a lot of people don’t have. I get to do something that I’m good at, and it makes the world a little better.”

“Killing people makes the world better?”

“Depends on the person, but I think so,” I reply honestly, in spite of the skepticism in her voice and written all over that lovely, open face. I cap the tube carefully and toss it onto the bed behind me. She tries to move her legs, but I don’t release my grip.

“But don’t they have their own lives? Their own families and hopes and dreams?”

“Does having those things make you a good person?”

“Does being a bad person mean you deserve to die?”

I grin, because she comes back with that so fast that it was clearly locked and loaded. She’s been thinking about this a lot, which fills me with an odd sort of vindication. “Touché. You’re against the death penalty then, I take it.”

“I don’t know,” she admits, dropping her head back between her shoulder blades. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t think people should be allowed to kill without consequences, but that’s also what you’re stopping them from doing. Where does it end?”

“It’s a lot to take in,” I acknowledge, running my hand soothingly up and down her leg. I can feel her skin tense under my hand and my cock twitches in interest, knowing how easy it would be to just reach up a few more inches and pull down those panties.Down, boy, we’ll get to that in a minute.“For what it’s worth, you’re asking good questions. Most people never have to go through a big challenge to their moral code like this.”

She barks a laugh with no mirth, head still back. After a second, she lifts it and looks at me down her nose. “You believe in what you do? It… it saves people?”

“Rossi brought in five shipments last year. Those guns make their way to cities and suburbs all over, to the border, to drug lords and hate groups and gangs. Sometimes, they even end up in the hands of a teenager, looking to take their rage out on their classmates.”

She gasps and straightens, the color draining from her face.

“Rossi doesn’t pull the trigger, but he gives them the means. Is the blood still on his hands?”

Her lower lip wobbles and she sucks it into her mouth. I love how deeply she feels for people, how open her heart is for those she’s never met and will never meet.

“I think it is,” I continue. “Just like I know that stopping these shipments will prevent a lot of that shit in the future. Sure, the guys with guns to sell will find another way in. They always do. So, we follow the trail Rossi leaves and go after the suppliers next.”

“But…” she chews that lip and I brace myself for her next argument, her next indictment against my character. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

Her concern washes over me like a wave and I nearly sway from the force of it. She’s worried about me? I can’t help myself. I tuck my hand in between her thighs,dangerously close to a very hot, very wet center. “Yeah, darlin’. It’s dangerous. But so am I.”

She inhales sharply.

“Now that we got that out of the way…”

I reach forward and grab her right upper arm, then snake the other around her legs and up to her hip. In one synchronized jerking motion, I flip her over and drag her torso towards me. It places that sweet ass right over my lap. Her shirt has ridden up, showing me enough skin to make my palms twitch.

She’s surprised enough for a beat that she just lets it happen, but when she feels my arm belt across her back and my other hand follow the curve of her ass, she starts kicking her legs wildly.

“Let’s talk about why you made dinner for everyone but me.”

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