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“I think you’re the one who killed him,” I reply, staring at the lifeless body on the ground.
“He wasn’t going to survive what you did to him. I was just showing him mercy and hurrying him along,” Ivan says, putting his hand on my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Speaking of which, I think we also need to hurry along. Where there’s one, there’s more, and I’m certain they would’ve heard those shots.”
“You’re right,” I say, looking toward the scout’s car idling on the road. “Let’s get out of here.”
Ivan holsters his gun and takes my hand, running with me to the place where we parked the convertible. He laughs like a maniac as he slips into his seat and starts the engine, slapping his hand down on my thigh.
“I live for the thrill, baby! I love it,” he says as we pull out onto the road.
I laugh at his enthusiasm, but I feel the same way. The amount of excitement and adrenaline coursing through my veins right now is a little concerning, but I have to admit that I’m enjoying it. I killed a man, and I’m happy about it.
“You’re okay, right?” Ivan asks, shaking my legs as we speed off into the night.
I must look stunned, but I’m just trying to process everything that just happened. A smile spreads over my face as I accept what I’ve done, and I look over at Ivan. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes are even more gorgeous than they were when I first met him, and the way he smiles makes me melt into my seat.
“I feel amazing,” I shout over the wind. “I feel alive!”
Ivan hollers into the night, tilting his head back and laugh maniacally as he accelerates down the empty road. The asphalt turns to a blur of black glass, and we arrive back home without any recollection of how we got there.
Ivan walks into the house with the manila envelopes held high over his head, going straight to his office. I follow him, joining him there as he pulls out two cigars to celebrate.
“I really shouldn’t smoke,” I say, even as he lights my cigar.
He chuckles, then lights his own. “Neither should I, and yet, here we are.”
23
Ivan
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Donovan arrived at the house, irritated by the abandoned call for backup, but his tone changed when he learned about the research. Project G is real, and I had proof of it.
Lily fell asleep on the couch next to the bookcase as Donovan and I went through every paper in the folders, piecing together what Dimitri had developed to dilute the gas supply and make us filthy rich.
The notes were solid, but we came just short of the final chemical compound.
Now, as the sun creeps through the blinds and falls across my desk in slanted bars, Donovan and I go over the research for the fifth or sixth time, trying to figure out what’s missing. My eyes sting from the lack of sleep and cigar smoke, but I don’t want to stop until I know there’s nothing more to learn.
Donovan is the first to call it a day. The coffee isn’t keeping him awake any longer, and his eyelids are threatening to fall over his bloodshot eyes and keep him from reading anymore. It’s involuntary at this point.
“We need to get this stuff to a real scientist. I can’t understand half of it, and what I do understand is incomplete,” Donovan says, tossing a paper onto my desk. “It’s all so tiring.”
I want to be annoyed with him, but he’s right. We can’t figure this out on our own. We have experts who will be able to take it from here, but it helps that we know how far Dimitri came with the initial research.
I look over at Lily, who is still sleeping like an angel on the couch. Her pretty little face is pressed into the leather on the couch seat, a spot of drool just beneath her lips. She probably would be embarrassed, but I think she looks more beautiful than ever when she’s sleeping.
I’d like nothing more than to scoop her off that couch, carry her to the bed, and cuddle with her for as long as she’ll allow before she wakes up and wants breakfast. I’m simply exhausted, and I’m craving intimacy of the most precious kind. I want to be close to her, to feel her skin on mine, and to listen to the softness of her breath while she dreams.
I raise my hand to Donovan, giving him a look of understanding. “You can take the guest bedroom now, if you wish to sleep. I don’t want you driving home in your current state.”
A look of relief washes over his tired face. “Thank you, Ivan. I’m very grateful for your hospitality.”
“It’s nothing,” I reply, standing up from my desk. “Just let me know when you wake up so I can let you out. The guards are trained not to let anyone in or out without my permission.”
He nods. “Understood.”
“Great, then I will show you to your room.”
Donovan’s shows more energy as we leave the office, but maybe that’s because we’re finally able to breath air that hasn’t been tainted by cigar smoke for the past eight hours. Even I feel better, like I could look over the research for another hour or so, but I know doing so would sacrifice time I could be spending with Lily.
