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“Fuck.” He groans, peering down at me. “You okay firecracker?” My breath hitches at the new nickname, tears begin to flow down the sides of my face. “Oh baby girl, don’t cry.” Pulling out, Killian scoops me into his arms, cradling my body to his. “Shh, it’s alright.” He murmurs over and over, running a soothing hand down my back.
I turn my face into his chest and sob. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what it means. All I know is who I was when I entered that elevator is not the same person I am now.
My sobs increase as I cling to the man responsible for my entire world shifting. One singular thought pushes past the chaos of my mind and it only serves to destroy me further. Ican no longer pretend, no longer hold onto the old mantra that hasn’t been true for a long time.
My chest breaks open, pouring out the last pieces of my old self clinging on. When I try picking up the pieces, I find they are different, rounded where previously edged, curved instead of the straight lines that once made up the parts of who I was. Somehow the new pieces fit inside of me better than the old, the hollow empty spaces that were there before no longer seem so vast or numerous.
Whatever happened tonight has proven one thing:
Everything has changed.
Chapter 22
Killian
I’m well and truly fucked.
I peer down at Avamarie’s sleeping body, tucked into the covers of my bed. I don’t know what came over me as I declared I would do anything for the woman. The most infuriating part is the realization that Iwould.While it was a crazed, pleasure-induced declaration pulled from me by her pussy wrapped around my dick, tears shining in her eyes. It was also the truth.
Shaking my head and grumbling to myself, I turn and make my way down the hall to my office. One thing no one tells you about getting older is you lose the ability to succumb to sleep like when you’re young. I used to be able to crash, slipping into the sweet land of dreams easily. But as I’ve aged, I find it more and more difficult to relinquish my hold on my awakened state.
Perhaps it’s because I’m getting closer and closer to death.
The thought angers me, feeling like a personal attack. My heart aches at the possibility of leaving the beautiful little vixen resting in my bed.
I’ve never been afraid to die. In fact, I’ve embraced the possibility with open arms, daring the grim reaper to take his best shot. But now? Now I desperately want to stay in the land of the living. If the reaper were to come knocking, I’d take the opportunity to use my skills to erase his existence before he could stop mine. And all because a little red-haired firecracker has given me a reason to keep breathing.
With a groan, I lower myself into the cushioned chair behind my desk. Clicking through the instructions for the new job Andrew sent over, one thought repeats in my mind.
Everything’s changed.
“Oh hey there pops!” Arriana crows, skipping her way over to me.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her lack of decorum.
One more job.
Even as I try to reassure myself, I know it’s not true. Charles has now realized how effective we work together so we’re going to be with each other again. Of that I’m positive.
Snickering, she slides to a stop in front of me. “Ready for this shit?” She asks, eyes gleaming with an excitement I remember once experiencing before a hit.
I take a deep breath and push aside everything but the task before us. “Yes.” I reply.
She waits for me to elaborate, our eyes locked in a stare off. When I don’t say anything else, she rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. “God you're no fun, you know that? Who shoved that stick up your ass? I might need their number if I ever want somethingreallystuck somewhere. Because I gotta tell ya grandpa, I don’t see how we’re going to get the thing outta there.” Pausing, she lifts a hand to stroke her chin. “Not that that’s going to stop me from trying. Gotta make sure you don’t croak from a heart attack cause you’re strung so tight.” Chuckling, she continues murmuring something about polls and extraction but I tune her out.
My mind has fixated on her carelessly blurted reminder of my new anxiety. A sensation I’m still not used to and furious at its introduction to my life.
“Make sure you don’t croak from a heart attack.”
Am I that tightly wound? Did I put myself even more in death’s reach because of my rigidity?
Pushing away the concerns, I focus back on the tiny woman before me.
The sooner we get this over with, the quicker I can go home and assuage some of these worries with the body of my little girl.
Arriana is still muttering to herself about pliers and sticks. Deciding I don’t feel like dealing with her right now, I spin on myheels and make my way toward the van tucked away down the street.
Andrew advised they were providing a stakeout vehicle, which is a very rare occurrence. In all the years I’ve been a murderer for hire, I can count on my hand the number of times a job has required this level of preparation by both the company and us.
