Page 22 of The Ghost Assassin

“You like dangerous, Lilah. That’s the real problem, isn’t it? You don’t think you should. You don’t think you should want me and us like you do.”

“I shouldn’t. I can’t.”

“And yet, here we are.”

But this isn’t the past, and there is no hate in me for Kane. “I’m not him.”

I know instantly that this is about his father. Something about killing Miguel fucked with his head, and now he thinks he’s the cartel and another version of his father. “I know that. Why don’t you know that?”

“Whoever I have to kill for you, Lilah, I will. No matter who that is.”

I catch his hair and twine it roughly in my fingers, intending to remind him that I’m pretty good at getting the job done myself, but he’s already kissing me, rolling me, and pulling me on top of him. I stare down at him, the lust and possession in his eyes, and I realize what he needs. He needs to feel like I’m his, really his, and nothing is going to change that.

He needs me wild and all in.

Again, I’m back to that first night we were back together. He’d pulled me on top of him then, too, and I remember exactly what I’d read that message as: this was my choice. I want this. I want him. I’d called him a bastard then. The fact that he can even question this now makes me say it again. “Bastard,” I hiss, pressing my hands on his shoulders. “What is wrong with you?” I lean in and press my lips to his.

He molds me close, and catches my hips, thrusting into me even as he pulls me down against him. And that’s when we erupt. Our lips collide, our bodies sway. And he touches me like he may never touch me again, which only makes me angrier, only makes me ride him harder, grab his hair rougher. Because I want him to get the message. Nothing has changed.

I blamed him for what I thought I was becoming.

I know now he’s all that keeps me on the right path.

Too soon, it seems, our bodies quake and I collapse on top of him, trying to catch my breath, but I am anything but done. I drag myself up and dig my fingers into his shoulders. “What is going on?”

He rolls me over, and now he’s on top of me again, searching my face before he rolls over onto the mattress next to me and hands me a tissue. I don’t want the damn tissue, but I take it because he’s literally standing up and pulling on his pants.

I’m up and dressing with him, aware that he’s drawn a line. We dress, then we talk.

Then we’re back at the end of the bed, facing each other, and I wait for the bombshell, whatever it is. “I killed Miguel and then a man came out of the shadows and killed Laslo.”

I digest that with a hard punch of reality. “You’re kingpin.”

“It’s not that cut and dry.”

“Did someone else challenge you?” I ask, and as much as I want that to be true and this damn cartel to be gone, Kane’s power within that operation controls the Society.

“My father isn’t dead,” he announces.

I feel as if a tidal wave of impossible just crushed me. “What? No. No, that can’t be possible.”

“And yet, it is. He said the minute I decided to put Laslo in charge, I left him no option but to return from the dead. I also don’t think your boss dying tonight was a coincidence. He was warning me. He can get to anyone, including you. What better way to show me that than to kill your boss, an untouchable director of the FBI?”

“Would your father hire a professional hitman, because this was a high-dollar, professional job.”

“I think he’d do just about anything to control me. He’s also made a point to let me know he’s tight with Pocher, and your father will be useful. My father is going to be a problem. He’s going to use us both for his own agenda and pull us under with him. We have some decisions to make. One big decision that directs all else.”

“You don’t even have to tell me what you’re talking about. He has to die.”

“Then I become the kingpin and there is no one I can put in my place and still control the organization to check the Society.”

Ellis’ promise to offer Kane shelter suddenly comes back to me. He didn’t just know where Kane was when he was talking to me, he knew I’d need to protect Kane.

Chapter Fourteen

“I need a fucking drink,” Kane murmurs, and then he’s walking toward the bedroom door.

Taken aback by his unexpected reaction, I blink, when not much makes me blink. First, Kane doesn’t curse. He internalizes while I externalize. He’s also a man of ultimate control, the kind that comes from someone who has lived in an environment of life and death all his years. For that same reason, he doesn’t attempt to drink away his problems, but rather end them with decisiveness. But I also know from experience that when your parent is the one you face as an enemy, it brings out a different side of you.

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