Page 158 of Ruthless Creatures
I’ll go live in Antarctica, where the only single males are penguins.
I close my eyes and rest my head back against the seat, wondering what the hell I’m going to say when I see David.
What could possibly be appropriate under the circumstances?
“Hi! Been a long time, dickhead! Abandon any women lately?”
Or—“Great to see you, fuckface! Thanks for the hellish past five years!”
Or—“Die, scumbag!”
Or perhaps I should keep it simple and just say, “Surprise!”
I can’t wait to see his face.
I also can’t wait to set it on fire and put it out with a hammer.
I don’t know which emotion I’m feeling the most, but they’re all gathered into a horrible knot in my stomach and are writhing around like a basket of venomous snakes.
Worst of all, thoughts of Kage keep bossily shoving themselves to the forefront of my mind, insisting on staying even when I shove them back.
I always thought love and hate were two very different things, but right now they’re inseparable.
I know it’s only shock and adrenaline that’s keeping me from falling completely apart.
Keeping my heart from completely breaking.
Keeping me from clawing my eyes out in pain.
I’d start a support group for women who’ve fallen in love with and been betrayed by the assassin who was sent to kill them, but the only member would be me.
Help. I’m going insane.
The cab pulls to a stop. I must’ve fallen asleep, but now I’m wide awake, staring out the window at a massive iron gate flanked by two tall stone columns capped with carved lions.
Behind the gate, up a winding gravel road, is a house, perched at the top of a hill overlooking the crystal-blue Caribbean Sea.
No. House is the wrong word.
It’s a palace.
Glowing white in the setting sun, the estate sprawls over several acres of manicured grounds. Tiered stone fountains splash into pools. Scarlet bougainvillea cascades over marble balustrades. A peacock wanders past, regally spreading his plumage.
And in the middle of it all, at the main entrance of the main building, two huge dark oak doors sit open wide.
A man stands in the space between them.
When I step out of the cab, he steps out from the doorway and begins the walk down the long gravel drive.
He’s tall, lean, and deeply tanned. His dark hair is kissed bronze at the tips by the sun. Wearing an untucked white dress shirt rolled up his forearms, a pair of khaki shorts, and flip flops, he moves closer.
As he does, he watches me with sharp hazel eyes I’d know anywhere on earth.
And of all the things I thought I might do or say at this moment, of all the curses I wanted to scream and the insults I wanted to hurl, the only thing I find myself actually doing is sinking to my knees and fighting for air.
When my knees touch the gravel, David breaks into a run.
FORTY
