“Yeah.” He gave me a thin smile. “After that I got my certification as a hairstylist, and I thought I could move on, but I couldn’t. I decided I wanted revenge, so I went to the seediest parts of New Gothenburg to find someone to kill for me. I knew I needed someone talented. I met Ardan Murphy.”
“Oh fuck, I know him.” I chuckled. “Killough’s man.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Ardan was the first assassin I ever met. He made me a deal. Instead of having someone else kill them, he wanted me to do it, so he took me to meet the Society. He vouched for me, and I was trained as an assassin with some of the best teachers they had.”
“And now you’re one of them.” I couldn’t believe I’d never heard of the Society before and that King had kept them a secret, but in a strange way, I could understand why. “I guess that makes sense.”
“The Society has rules, and I had to follow them unless I wanted to end up dead.” He shrugged but smiled apologetically. “One of them is a client’s right to privacy. Your father wanted me to protect you without you ever knowing, so that’s what I did, even if he had no idea that myhandlerswere an organization that basically are the boogeymen of the underground.”
I nodded, as much as I hated the lies. Fuck. I was more embarrassed than anything. How had I not seen him for who he really was? I’d been blinded by that hot ass and snarky attitude. “Any other secrets I should know about?”
He licked his lips, wincing. “Everything I told you since I met you was the truth, except the assassin part. The only other thing I didn’t fully divulge is….”
I crossed my arms, waiting.
“I told you that my ex-fiancé was murdered. That was the truth. What I didn’t say was that I was the one who killed him.” There wasn’t any regret in his voice.
I leaned forward curiously. “Should I be worried about waking up one day with a knife to my neck?”
“Well, you already had a knife to your neck when you tried to spy on me the first time you were at my house.”
“Yeah, explainthat. What’s with the sleep talking?”
He laughed, and his face lit up like King when he saw a classic Harley. Cheeks flushed, he said, “I can’t explain that. I’ve been sleep talking since I was a kid, but these days it’s only when I’m not on an assignment, or when I feel safe enough to fall into a deep sleep.”
“So you felt safe with me in your house, huh?” I grabbed his hand and lifted his wrist to my mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside while I smirked at him. “I knew you had a thing for me from the start.”
He rolled his eyes but laughed. “You’re not bad-looking, I suppose.”
“Lies. I’m fucking hot. It’s the tattoos, right?” I raised my chin, flashing him the black and red roses inked onto my neck. “You can’t resist a man like me.”
“It’s definitely not the personality.” A teasing glint twinkled in his dark eyes.
“I’ll have you know, I have a fucking fantastic personality.”
“Aren’t you still on shithouse duty for starting a fight with Scar?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it. “Shut up, prissy boy.”
His laughter rose as the nurse who Grant had been talking to outside came into his room. She checked his vitals and injuries, changing a few bandages as she went.
“The doctor has an MRI set for this afternoon. We’ll be in then to take you up.” With a sweet smile, she left again when Quain huffed out a “fine.”
When I knew we were alone again, I slid my fingers into his and asked, “Why did you kill him?”
He stared at me carefully and reached up to his chest, and I noticed his chain and ring had vanished. “Dean, my ex-fiancé?”
“Yeah. Him.”
His eyes slid to the TV screen on the wall, bottom lip pulled into his mouth. He ran his fingers over his bandaged wrist, and I watched as thoughts raced through his mind—he was deciding if and what he wanted to tell me. Finally, his gaze returned to me. “I can’t tell you some things”—the wordsbecause of the Societywere left unsaid—“but I’ll tell you as much of the truth as I can.”
I nodded. “Good enough for me.”
He sighed. “Dean was a hitman for the Society. It doesn’t matter if you’re an assassin or a hitman, you have to follow the rules.”
“What’s the difference between them? Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No.” Quain snorted. “If you ask some of them, it’s about class. Hitmen think assassins are stuck-up pricks. Assassins think hitmen are the hillbillies of the organization. The difference is simple, though. Hitmen are free contractors. They take whatever contracts they want. Assassins are usually contracted to one person only. Like Ardan with Killough.”
