A storm is brewing within me, emotions surfacing that I didn’t know even lingered beneath my skin. My heart pounds, and I stare at the man ahead of me. I know what he meant about what he did. He killed people. He still does.
I’m here, having a quaint little dinner with what is possibly the sexiest killer in the world. Not that I know a lot of killers. Any, actually, before him.
My skin flushes, and for a second, I feel like I’m going to be sick again, but I swallow it back as I force myself to stand. Tears are stinging my eyes, but I blink them away, fury and terror swirling within me.
“You want me to thank you or something, Mikhail? Is that what this whole dinner business is about?”
He takes one of the napkins in hand, unfurls it, and calmly wipes his mouth.
“I do not want your thanks or your gratitude,” he says, still sitting there at the table. “What I want is for you to sit tight until it is safe for you to go. Or until I figure out where you can go that won’t get you killed,” he says, looking right at me with those dark eyes of his.
The eyes of a murderer.
He should make me sick. He does make me sick. So why am I so drawn to him, and what does that say about me? Normal girls don’t feel drawn to their murdering kidnapper.
I take in another deep breath of air as I continue to stare at him.
“I’m not staying here. If you were supposed to kill me and you didn’t, they’re going to be looking at where you led them. It’s only a matter of time before they find this place, if they don’t already know of it.”
I have no idea who they are, or if I’m correct, but I’m taking a giant stab in the dark in order to gain my freedom. To plead with him for a way out.
His brows furrow a little, and he looks at me.
“Only a handful of men in this city know who did the hit. You’re sitting with one. The others are all well under my influence,” he says with that stoic gaze of his, unflinching and serious. “And furthermore, they do not know about this place. This is my safe house. A place where nobody in my life knows how to get to. Where if everyone in the world turned on me, I could come here and last out a long, long wait. This place,” he says, jabbing his long index finger into the table, “is my insurance. And now, it is yours.”
I hate that somehow, he’s making me feel bad for taking this all for granted, and I fidget under his hard stare.
“People... people who hire hitmen don’t just forget about murder witnesses. I’ve seen the movies, you know. The ones where people are sitting and having breakfast twenty years after the fact, and they get a gun in their face. This is never going to leave me.”
His broad jaw sets tight, and he looks at the food, taking a deep breath.
“I’ve told them that there were no witnesses. That you must have left the scene before I hit. The local boss is paranoid and wants to take you out just in case,” he explains, turning his gaze towards me, staring hard. “But when you don’t show up for a while, and nothing comes of it...you will be forgotten. Business moves on, as usual. As it must,” he explains firmly.
I shift forward. This is dumb. I shouldn’t be getting closer to him. I shouldn’t be placing my hand on his jaw, my fingers caressing him tenderly.
And the worst part is I don’t even know if it’s all just a ploy to get him to let me go or if I just want to touch him. To know he’s real, to feel that stubble beneath my palm.
“You’re trying to do the right thing,” I say more softly, and I truly believe that’s what he thinks he’s doing. Hell, maybe that is what he’s doing. Maybe, beneath that gruff exterior and hard gaze and that gun on his hip, he really is my knight in shining armor.
My fingers trace back over his jaw towards that red scar on his face, and I watch as his rugged features contort into a look of curiosity. He’s almost as confused by my actions as I am.
“I am not a school boy to be manipulated,” he says, his voice a little quieter. “I am looking after you, not because I’m out to be the hero. Not because I expect some big thank-you.” He reaches up and wraps his hand about my wrist, that grasp of his so tight as he rises up to tower over me again. “I saved you because I wanted to. I’ll keep you alive because that’s my desire. It is no more complicated than that, and I expect nothing else than for this to end with you alive and well, if cranky.”
My breathing quickens despite myself as my gaze is forced upwards. He’s just a hair’s breadth away from me, and if I leaned forward just a little, my chest would be pressed against his abs. It’s tempting, for all the wrong reasons.