Page 50 of Assassin's Prey
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Chapter Twenty-Two
Remi and Eli met me at the drop point, and I took them to our new safe house before I went to get Abby. Ironically it was the same house Abby had run away from after I kidnapped her. I just hoped she didn’t try it again given her mood when I’d dropped her off. Mrs. Sanderson always had a soothing effect on her; maybe I’d get lucky.
It took me approximately ten seconds before I realized there would be no getting lucky this time.
Abby stood on the little front patio, her arms crossed over her chest like she needed to hold herself together. I wanted to take her in my arms and do the job for her, but the anger in her eyes shouted for me to stay away.
“Answer me, Levi. Where did you go?”
I glanced at Mrs. Sanderson with what I hoped were pleading eyes, but the old woman merely shook her head. Her message was clear:you’re on your own, kid.
Hiding my grimace, I admitted, “I had a meeting with Redding.”
Abby choked. At least I’m pretty sure that’s why her face was turning that awful shade of red, but maybe the death glare had something to do with it too.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
Obviously.I was just as hyped on adrenaline and the aftermath of the confrontation as Abby was on anger, but another glance at Mrs. Sanderson convinced me not to verbalize that. I took a minute to clear the sarcasm from my voice.
“Abby, I know you want to be a part of everything, but you are not always going to know what I’m doing. That’s the nature of my work, and a safety measure for you. It’s just the way it is. The sooner you try to understand that, the less stress there will be for you.” I dared a half step forward but didn’t touch her, not like I wanted to. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I’ll never get used to having you in danger.”
And I guess I could understand that on some level. Military spouses, I was sure, never stopped worrying. Cops, Feds—some occupations wouldn’t allow you not to worry. But what I did was dangerous; there was no way to stop that.
“Abby—”
She threw a hand up. “Not now.” And shoved past me.
I turned to watch her walk toward the SUV, and wished I was someone else, somehow who came without all the complications that this life had wrapped me in. But I wasn’t.
You knew that going in. Don’t let one setback stop you. Make it work.
“She does get it, you know.”
I faced Mrs. Sanderson. Abby called her Geneva, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I respected her too much. Her kind brown eyes had faded some in the couple of years I’d known her, but they were still full of wisdom. “Does she?”
The older woman reached a wizened hand to grab my wrist. Touching was something I had never allowed before Abby came into my life. I’d gone years without any more personal a touch than a quick screw in a back alley. My wild redhead had taught me the value of physical connection, and somehow over the past few months, that connection had extended to Geneva Sanderson. She had become like a grandmother to Abby and, by association, to me. At least what I imagined a grandmother would be like.
A smile deepened the wrinkles on each side of her mouth. “She does. She just has no way to get out her worry. Fear always sharpens the tongue.”
I glanced down at my wrist and laid my palm over hers. No words came to mind, but Mrs. Sanderson didn’t need any. She just held tight and let me absorb her understanding.
Finally I stepped back. “Thank you.”
“Bring her back soon, honey. That’s thanks enough,” she said, passing me Abby’s coat.
I brushed a kiss along her cheek and turned to go. I could barely see the edge of Abby’s red hair around the headrest, the color glinting in the sun passing through the windshield, and something about the vibrant color settled the emotion clogging my chest as I crossed the lawn. We needed to get back to the safe house, talk, work things out. Hell, if she needed to yell at me, I’d let her. Whatever it took, I’d—
Between one step and the next, my world exploded around me.
Hitting the ground flat on my back drove every bit of air from my lungs. I gasped, choked. Where was Mrs. Sanderson? She’d been behind me, near the front door. What—
I couldn’t hear anything. It was like I’d been stuffed into a balloon, echoing with my heaving breath and the thoughts in my head, but no sound. Nothing. And my skin. It cringed away from what I finally realized was a fireball of silent heat directly in front of me, searing me, cooking me in my clothes.
It was only then that the pieces came together.
