There's also a throb. A throb between my thighs I've been trying desperately to ignore. But when Baz is this close, begging to be intimate, the sensation synthesizes.
"Where are you staying?" he asks as I maneuver into the truck. I need to escape. Now.
"The Viewpoint." I slide into the driver's seat and turn on the engine.
"What room?" He hijacks the door so I can't shut it.
"Ah, I'll meet you in the lobby."
"Don't trust me yet?"
I pout my lip. He thinks I'm being cute, but I'm being anything but. He has no idea. It's me he can't trust.
"See you in the morning." I lean over misleadingly, and the excitement in his eyes ignite. He lets his guard down just enough for me to push him out of the way and shut the door.
Patience, lover boy. Your kiss of death will come.
I DIDN'T SLEEP one wink last night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured Baz's cold, dead, bleeding body. It nauseated me.
I have never been judge nor jury when it comes to my victims. I'm ordered and I execute. That's my job. My purpose. Whether they deserved to die or not, it made no matter to me. Wait, correction, it was not meant to matter to me.
Why Baz has a price on his head should be inconsequential, but for some reason it's not. I have wrestled with this conflict all night.
I've watched the life drain from every type of scumsucker imaginable. Thieves, killers, snitches. I know evil when I see it. It reflects back at me every time I look in the mirror. And I think therein lies the problem. Baz doesn't share one single trait as me.
He has no blood on his hands or death in his eyes. He isn't one of the bad guys. I am.
And this bad guy has been tasked to take the life of an unsuspecting innocent. For the first time, I'm questioning the reason. The motive. My own damn morals. Who knew I still had any of those?
The alarm buzzes, alerting me to leave. Not that I need the reminder. I've been dressed and packed since five a.m. But my mind is cloudy and wandering. Not a good combination for an assassin who's about to get lost in the woods with her mark.
The store attached to the hotel is conveniently open twenty-four hours, so I toss the backpack I bought last night over my shoulder and leave the room. I figure Baz is going to expect me to be prepared to go hiking, so I bought a ton of shit to take on the trek. A water bottle, towel, trail mix, compass, etc. I also packed an extra phone charger, the red lipstick, and my .22-silencer included.
Baz is already waiting in the lobby by the time I get down there, and I idly wonder exactly how long he's been here.
His big white smile, sparkly green eyes, and affable demeanor tells me he'd wait for days if he had to. I'm momentarily flattered, but I don't deserve the esteem. Not one bit of it.
"Morning. All ready?" Baz reaches for my backpack, and I instinctively jerk it away.
"I got it, thanks." Shit, way to not throw up any red flags. Who knew he'd try to be a gentleman and carry my bag? Who knew there were any gentlemen left in the world? I thought they were extinct.
"Okayyyy." He backs off.
"Sorry," I try to recover. "I haven't had coffee yet."
"Not a morning person. Noted." We head out of the lobby. I'll admit Baz owns the mountain man look. He's to die for in hiking boots, jeans, and fur-lined jacket. I love his skully the most and how the ends of his long hair wisp out from underneath it.
He just screams masculinity in every sense of the word. "There's a great coffee place on the way. We'll stop." He unlocks the doors to a muddied-out F-150.
"Someone likes to go off-roading," I comment as I climb in. The potent scent of pine assails my senses as I recognize the same earthy scent that lingered on Baz last night. Whatever his cologne or aftershave is, it's fucking addicting. I could get high on it for hours.
"Shit, yeah," Baz confirms vivaciously as he turns on the truck. The engine roars as he throws it into drive, and we peel out of the parking lot. It's still dark, and the country roads are quiet as we head out of town.
"So where exactly are you taking me?" I ask suspiciously.
"A secret spot." Baz doesn't offer up much information.
"That's all I get?"
"For now." He grins like a shifty charlatan.
I take one look at an unsuspecting Baz and have to remind myself I am neither judge nor jury, just a low-level civil servant here to do a job.
We pull up to what looks like a little house in the middle of nowhere. Baz drives around the small establishment until we come to an intercom and lit up menu.
"Coffee," he proclaims victoriously. He seems to be very proud of his find.
"So I see." I peruse the menu. For a shitty little shack, it has some fancy choices. "I think I'll do the peppermint mocha with an extra shot. And extra whipped."