Page 9 of Pride
Irritation swam in his expression and she had no clue why. Was she supposed to be more arrogant like him? Some people actually just got on with it. No need to parade around and tell the world how good they were. Besides, why would she be proud of being an assassin?
Her mother’s bloody hand reaching for her. The tires spinning. A smothering seatbelt. Nina Simone on the radio.
Alice swallowed and stared out the window, pretending to be enamored with the sunrise, but the old feelings of pain and loss wanted to take control of her senses, and she couldn’t afford to look weak in front of a man who didn’t know the meaning of the word. Through the crystal clear windowpanes, pastel hues peeked over buildings, turning the early morning smog into fairy-floss. They had to be ten or twelve stories high, but Alice knew Parker. There would be a way to get down the building from the outside. If it wasn’t a fire escape, there would be something else.
“Is Alice your real name?” Parker asked.
She considered lying, but there was no use. Her instinct still said the Lazarus family was to be trusted, and she didn’t want history to repeat. When Mary Lazarus had fled the Sisterhood, she caused a rift between the Sinners and their Sisterhood handlers. After that, the nuns who managed the Sinners changed. They became stricter. They tightened the rules.
And then the Vatican became involved.
Regardless of who controlled the Sisterhood, one constant remained. Sinners broke the rules.
“Sister Alice is the only name I’ve known,” she conceded. “I’m an orphan, but I suspect you already know that.”
She could remember Nina Simone, but not her own name.
Alice tugged on the bindings again, heedless of the pain lashing her wrists. Her heart rate increased, and for a moment, she felt the phantom burn of a seatbelt across her chest. She shook the painful memory away before it had a chance to grab hold.
Parker clicked his tongue in disapproval, but he wasn’t concerned. He simply waited until she was done tugging on the bindings.
“What is your mission?” he asked. “Two years is a long time to be watching us.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I like watching.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She sighed. “You know, if you had accepted my offer two months ago on that rooftop, not only would you still have an arm, but you’d already know my mission.”
Wrong thing to say. Parker unfurled his long, powerful body and straightened until he towered over her at the foot of the bed. If her fear hadn’t been stamped out by the Sisterhood, she might feel something at the sight of a Viking staring at her like he wanted to pulverize her with his teeth.
“Am I supposed to be scared?” she asked wryly.
His eyes brightened. His cheeks flushed. It only made Alice’s smile widen, and that only made him angrier. He skirted the bed and stopped at her side, then leaned down until his hair tickled her skin and provided a shroud, making this more intimate than he probably intended. A little thrill skipped in Alice’s stomach. For a moment, they both stared into each other’s eyes, both a little startled. It was Parker who broke first.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Because you’re certainly not the woman who’s been working for me.”
She bit her cheek as a multitude of retorts fired in her mind. But when his lips curled into a sneer, and his eyes made a show of inspecting her face… and dismissing her, she lost her fight.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, easing back. “You don’t even know the answer to that.”
Defiance surged through her. Before he had a chance to straighten, she twisted her body to capture his neck between her knees. She squeezed and pulled him down onto her. His big body fell, knocking her breath out. But Alice had trained with men his size before. She used his own strength against him and rolled to the side as he fell, tightening her thighs on his neck, his airways.
“Fuck you,” she snarled. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“Yet you claim I should have just accepted, what, an alliance on that rooftop with you?” He tried to pry her thighs apart. “That I should have trusted a woman who represented an organization that tried to kill me as a child? That you were worth holding on to?”
His words shocked her into silence, and she blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. Tears? Alice never cried. How dare he?
Her small lapse in concentration was enough for Parker to wriggle out and step off the bed, out of reach.
Face red, he looked down his nose at her. “I know all I need to know about you, Alice. You’re a Sinner. A tool created by the Sisterhood to kill and maim for their self-inflated desire to rule a world dominated by women. You’re a liar. You’re a master manipulator. And the fact you didn’t try to kill us, means that you need us—more than we need you.” He lounged back on his leather throne, knees spread wide, and proceeded to contemplate her. “I know exactly who you are. Now you’re going to tell me why I should care.”
Fucking douche. Fucking cock-sucking, stick-up-his-ass douche.
Alice closed her eyes and conjured her song. The jazzy tune eased in, got louder, and she bopped her head in time to the beat. When Nina Simone’s voice filtered into her mind, she felt her muscles relax. Tension eased. And Alice started breathing deep and slow. Inhale. Exhale.
Parker was a mission. He was a means to an end. Developing feelings for him had clouded her mind. He would never feel the same way about her. The Sisterhood wanted the Syndicate gone, just as much as the Deadly Seven did. They wanted them gone fast because there was another danger on the horizon, one that was starting to cannibalize all their time. Alice needed to get this situation sorted, quick smart.
