The word target sends my pulse sky high. I wasn’t a person. I was a target.
The room seems to slide sideways. Thank fuck I’m already sitting down.
“Thanks. For letting me know. And for…” I make a hand gesture that he seems to accept because he nods.
“Between Ray and the hacker, we’re certain this Oskar person was the one who paid for the contracts. There’s nothing else out there for you or for me. You’re safe now.”
You’re safe now. I sag back into the bed.
“Thank you.” Two little words that sound so inadequate when someone’s saved your life. More than once.
Right now I’d pay a lot of money to return to a few nights ago, to when my biggest problem was a customer slapping me in bed or spilling gin on my only suit. I’m not sorry about Milo, but the rest? I’d pass if I could.
In the silence between us, I try to come up with something else to say. Something to delay the inevitable. I can’t think of anything.
“Then…I guess it’s time for me to go home.”
Milo looks as hesitant as I feel. “Right. And time for me to leave town. I’ve already been here too long. It’s a good idea to keep moving in my line of work.”
Right. “Wait, so you don’t have a home at all?”
“I own a few houses. Canada, Alaska, New York, and a small island off the coast of Brazil. I stay in one of them when I have downtime.”
He owns a few houses. He stays when he has downtime. But that’s not living, is it?
“An island?”
Milo shrugs, but then he stiffens, giving me his back as he returns to packing away his guns. “They’re not all that expensive. Mine’s only a couple of acres. You’d spend more on a condo in a big city, probably.”
That makes me snort. “Sure. I wouldn’t know.” Tucker had a lot of money, but I was the youngest of four kids. And now that I’m on my own? “I think my definition of expensive and yours are different. I still cringe when I have to pay for dry cleaning.”
He laughs, but I see his profile and honestly he looks pretty sad. Or is that my imagination? This room’s dark, and a bedside lamp only shows so much.
“But a house isn’t the same as a home, is it?” As soon as I ask, I wish I hadn’t.
Milo looks as if I’ve punched him. Before I can open my mouth to apologize though, he’s wiped his expression clean.
He shrugs. “Depends on who’s there, I guess.” He stands, his hand going to the fly of his black cargo pants. “Speaking of homes, I need a little sleep, and then we can get you back to yours.”
“Wait.” I reach out, putting one hand on his. “Before you take those off, could you, uh, you know? What talked about earlier?”
I pull back the covers to show I have nothing on
He drops his hands with a smile. “You want me to fuck you with my clothes on, whore?”
My breath stutters. “Would you? Do you—” Gulp. “—want to? Do that?”
The uncertainty leaking out of me makes me want to hide my face under a pillow. When this all started, I was too busy in flight mode to truly be afraid. Then I was sort of numb. Now?
Now, I don’t want this to be the last time I see Milo. He probably doesn’t feel the same. The more I try to hide my feelings, the more I feel like they’re on display. At least we can be together one more time. I’ll take that, if it’s all I can have.
“Fuck yes.” He rummages in his ever-present backpack, pulling out a condom and some lube. “Spread out, whore. Show me that sexy hole.”
I’ve given up on analyzing how much I like it when he calls me that. After the way Tucker treated me, always insinuating I was dumb and calling me his “sweet boy,” I didn’t think I would enjoy degrading talk, but this feels different.
Milo feels different.
I’m not convinced my ex ever would’ve protected me the way Milo has. He wouldn’t have known how. He probably would’ve yelled “Do you know who I am?” at an attacker and assumed that’d do the trick.
