Page 41 of Assassin's Game
Levi couldn’t have known I needed him. And there were certainly more important things to focus on than our relationship. I told myself that, but beneath the agony tearing up my heart, I realized there was something else crouching, waiting to bite: anger.
Levi was in front of me in a flash. His face was ghastly white, a sick sort of pale that matched the way I felt inside. Shock. Pain. The knowledge that, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t protect us from this. It lurked in his eyes, haunting him—and now I’d implied he should leave me alone so he could hunt.
It was mean; I knew that. And yet somewhere inside me, I couldn’t help wondering if it was what he wanted.
I closed my eyes to block him out, block out the questions, the emotions, the reality I couldn’t escape from. How much longer would this take? How long could I endure before I broke?
The bed shifted as he climbed on, and I felt his long body nestle close enough that his heat reached my chilled skin. Closer, until his limbs brushed mine and his arm came around me and his breath ghosted across my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I would give anything—”
My fingertips on his mouth stopped the words. “I know.” I dragged my eyelids up. Molten steel stared back at me. “I know.”
“Abby, I—” His brow wrinkled, and for the first time since we’d met two years ago, he looked…uncertain. “I never meant for this to happen.”
I dropped my hand from his face. “You didn’t cause this, Levi. Nothing caused this. It is what it is.” No matter how much my heart screamed to make it stop. “I just…”
“Just what?”
“I need you here.” The words wobbled as a cramp knotted my stomach. “Don’t leave me. Please. I can’t do this alone.”
Working an arm under my shoulder and the other around my hip, Levi pulled me tight against him—and for the first time since I’d found out I was pregnant, I felt safe. My body recognized his and relaxed into him, letting him take my weight, letting his strength seep into me.
“You’re not alone, little bird. I won’t leave you again.”
The words pulled my scattered pieces back together. It wouldn’t last, but for now, it was what I so desperately needed. I pushed closer and closed my eyes to wait.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eighteen
Nix —
“Nice car.”
Eli wiggled his brows in a way that had me struggling to hold on to my serious, we’re-on-an-op face.
“Sometimes you have to blend in.” He patted the dash of the elderly Toyota Corolla he’d retrieved from the mansion’s extensive garage. “Her engine’s worthy, no matter what her outside says.”
“Her outside doesn’t say much, that’s for sure.” I pulled my gaze from the grin that popped up on his gorgeous face, the one that did weird things to my insides, to stare at the dark road ahead. We were following Sullivan’s town car—or rather, the tracker attached to his car. Rhys and Monty were taking advantage of the target’s absence to do the physical search of his home that neither team had managed yet. Remi and Titus were waiting for us at the secondary location we’d scouted to stage Sullivan’s accident—the one that would convince X, if temporarily, that our target was dead.
That left us. Eli and me. Alone. In a car, in the dark, for several hours.
The knowledge was like an itch under my skin, screaming at me to get away. Eli got to me like no man ever had—and the fact that I was beginning to like it, even anticipate it had me looking for escape. Or a distraction. Anything.
“Just how old are you?” I blurted into the silence. A reminder to myself as much as a question. I knew how old he was, actually.Too young for you, Mikaela.
Eli was aware that I knew his age—a smart mercenary never went after a target without research. He didn’t rub it in my face, though. “Old enough to know what I’m doing,” he said.
The words made my stomach flutter.I bet.
“The three of you were born fairly close together.”
Eli’s smile turned downward. I could see the grief on his face, knew its source. His parents’ murders.
“My mom and dad wanted their kids close,” he said. “At least that’s what Levi says.”
“You don’t remember?” I asked. “Your uncle—”
“He didn’t raise us.” Eli’s voice rasped with emotion. He hastily cleared his throat. “Levi raised us. I was nine when my parents died. I have a few memories of my own, but mostly flashes. Scents. Impressions.” He shrugged. “Not conversations, really.”
