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Blush(101)



He put up a hand, stopping her right there. “These people are good. They had evidence—pictures, property records, news articles. A private detective followed you for a year, Mia. Yet something told me within minutes of meeting you that you weren’t the person in the dossier given to me.

“So, I started trying to disprove, or prove, what they were telling me. I also knew that if I didn’t do the job I was paid to do, they’d send someone else.” He paused, knowing he had to tell her everything. “Which they did, several times. They wanted you dead by tomorrow morning. That was my deadline. And clearly the deadline for the others, too. If one didn’t kill you, another would. When you gave Davis and Kent the mailbox address, you also gave someone the opportunity to wait for you and follow us back here. I’ve been trying to figure out who hired me.”

“And all the others,” Mia said bitterly. “Whoever hired all of you is pretty damned determined to kill me. There were how many tonight?”

“Four.”

“Five, with you. At least five people paid a fortune to kill me. Who’s to say there aren’t another half dozen hit men lurking in the damned bushes? Who the hell has that kind of money and hatred for me?”

“They might be lurking, but it isn’t gonna happen.”

She raised a brow.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Mia. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe. Think, sweetheart. Think. You should know, somewhere in here”—he touched his head—“and in here”—he touched his heart— “you have to know that you can trust me. That you can trust my word.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. Not that she’d let them fall, he knew. She was too angry. Worse, too hurt to allow him to see her vulnerable. He rubbed his fist over the ache in the middle of his chest.

She swigged the rest of her wine and put the glass back on the counter with utmost care before meeting his gaze.

“Your word isn’t worth a damn thing. You’re a criminal. A killer. Hell, for all I know, you’re lulling me into trusting you again and you’ll kill me if I let down my guard.”

“You’ve turned your back on me more times than I can count and you’re still here. I told you, you have my word.”

“The word of a killer?” The tone was cutting, but he understood why. Trust was a hard commodity to come by in both his profession and hers.

“The word of the man who’s come to know and care about you.”

“You care for me? How noble. People care for plants. They care for what they’re going to have for dinner. Do they walk away from seven and a half million dollars for things that they care about? I don’t think so.”

She was right, but he couldn’t say the words that he’d never said to anyone before. He was already saying things that he’d never admitted to before. He more than cared for her.

In his pause, she continued, “What if the police figure out who you are? Wait. Who are you, anyway? Is your name even Cruz Barcelona?”

He shook his head but still didn’t give her the truth of his identity. “Nobody knows who I am or what I look like. All transations go through an email account I have routed all over the world.”

“You idiot! I saw your face that first night. I can identify you!”

“You, yes. But none of my marks has ever been in a position to give my description to the authorities.”

“I’m leaving tonight. Are you going to try to stop me?”

“You can’t go anywhere on your own. You know that. Not until we asertain wh—”

“There is no damned we. If you’re not going to kill me right now, leave.”

Maybe he was hedging his bet to negotiate with whoever hired him to get paid all of the other assassins’ money too.

Dear Lord, she didn’t want to believe that was true. She wanted to believe what he said, but hadn’t he told her not to trust anyone? She couldn’t even trust her own heart that was crying out for him to hold her. Him. The man who would’ve killed her if he hadn’t banged her first. But as warped as it all was, what he said kind of all made sense. If Cruz, or whatever his real name was, believed he was doing the right thing, it did ring true. Could he really have this steadfast code of honor that ran deep into his core, causing him to kill to carry out his own brand of justice.

Mia looked at him. Really looked at him for the first time since they had met, seeing him for who he was, not as the handyman or even as her lover. She saw him and heard all that he had told her in their time together. And she remembered how he had acted, responded, and desired her. The pieces clicked into place.