Page 21 of Rivals & Revenge

“What’s it look like?” I replied, my eyes dropping to the hilt of the knife closest to me. A knockoff. A cheap imitation of the custom blades I used, not that I expected anyone else to make that distinction.

“A fucking frame job,” he growled, scooping me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing, leaving the office without a backward glance.

My heart raced. Something dangerously resembling hope flickered in the deepest part of me. The tiniest spark, too afraid to allow itself to burn. And yet, I found myself grasping it with both hands, needing something to hold on to.

Each step down the stairs was punctuated with his angry footfalls as he stomped away from the broker and the death sentence he represented.

Icy wind spilled through the open doorway, its tendrils wrapping around my throat, threatening to bring my dinner back up.

“No.” I whispered, fear clawing at my throat. “They’ll see you. They’ll know.”

He stopped; his eyes raking over me—seeing more than they should and I pressed forward strength I didn’t have, forming it into a mask I hoped he wouldn’t see through.

“There are no cameras in the office, Rossdale. None. But I clocked four on my way in the front door. They know we’re here.”

“And?” he drawled, arching his brow. The way his posh accent curled around the lone syllable grated on every one of my nerves.

I sighed heavily. A sharp, stabbing pain answered, reminding me I was still wounded. Another breath, this one slower and more controlled. “Someone’s controlling this. The second we step out that door, the target on us goes live.”

He nodded, his infuriatingly perfect jaw set in a hard line. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

“Why not shoot me and walk out of here a free man?” I asked, sucking in a ragged breath. I hated this conversation, but something slumbering deep in the darkest parts of me. Perhaps the darkness itself lazily opened one eye that night in the grove and had been interested in me ever since.

“I’m sure that Walther is whispering for you to fire it—just once.”

He shrugged. “She’ll just have to wait. Won’t she?”

“She?” I asked, mimicking the arch of his perfect brow.

“Of course she’s female. Anything with a body that sleek and beautiful has to be female,” he stated matter-of-factly as he continued toward the door.

“And to answer your question, I don’t work for free.”

My eyes pinched shut as we crossed the threshold, half expecting bright lights and a firing squad, not daring to open them until he sat me in the front seat and the seatbelt clicked into place.

The roar of the engine faded into a quiet purr as he backed out of the driveway. My face pressed against the cool glass, watching the blur of buildings and streetlights as they passed.

“My bike—”

“I’ll have someone collect it for you. Where is it?”

“Um—under the footbridge on 9th.”

He nodded, but didn’t respond.

The adrenaline faded as quickly as it had surged, leaving behind an empty hollow now that the hunt was over—at least for now. I wrapped my arms around myself, desperate to hold the pieces together and not allow the emptiness—the weakness to swallow me whole.

My eyes slid shut, exhaustion taking me over, dragging me under bit by bit, just when I needed to keep my wits about me. The man sittingnext to me could easily kill me from half a mile away, and here I was, letting my guard down mere inches from him.

Still, this was the second time he saved my life in as many weeks. He and I weren’t in the business of saving people, and we didn’t rack up the big numbers by doing favors for rival assassins.

My lips parted with the intention of asking him what the hell was going on, but they refused to do more than quiver before snapping shut, my eyes following closely behind.

My eyelids refused to cooperate when I woke this morning—at least I was pretty sure it was morning. Not that I had any intention of leaving this fluffy cocoon anytime soon.

I rolled my neck, wincing when I tried to do the same with my hips.

“Careful.” an unfamiliar voice cooed.

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