One corner of his beautiful mouth lifted in acknowledgment of my words, but he stayed focused on getting us away from the off-limits area of the building. He was heading toward my room.
“I could say the same to you, my little stray.”
Was he going to deliver me back to my bed and stage his second suicide of the night? He didn’t leave witnesses. He was an assassin. A professional. Cold and calculating. I doubted he’d built a business by sloppily leaving witnesses behind.
He might try to kill me as soon as we got into my room. No, not try. In reality, if he’d decided to kill me, he wouldn’t have to try hard at all. He wouldn’t even break a sweat.
So, do something about it, the voice in my head whispered.
I’d missed her.
His knife. He always carries that knife,she reminded me.
Before doubt could steal my courage, I shifted in his arms, sliding a hand down my side. One of his pockets was under my hip. I was almost sure that was where I’d seen him take the knife from the other day when he’d used it to cut the cord on Father Pavol’s TV.
I felt around as discreetly as I could, making sure to wriggle my body to hide my hand movements.
I was sweating by the time I touched the smooth handle of the folding knife and the door to my room loomed in front of us.
We were back. Judgment time.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt as we got to the room and went inside. The goons who had dragged me off earlier hadn’t bothered locking it behind them.
It was dark inside, with just a square of moonlight shining on the bed through the window.
He carried me across the floor and lowered me to the bed, pausing when my weight was on the mattress, but his arms were still under me. He was so close.
This is it. End of the line.
I eased the knife open. He didn’t notice. He was staring at my face as though he’d like to climb inside my head. God, he was beautiful. Death and destruction and temptation all in one.
“What am I going to do with you,micetta?” he murmured, his voice stroking over the words.
“Maybe I should be the one asking that,” I said, my voice a mere breath, and moved my hand.
He raised an eyebrow and then seemed to register what I’d done.
His knife was pressed to the underside of his strong jaw, right against his jugular.
A moment of tension held between us, and then his mouth split into a grin.
“If this is your idea of foreplay... I like it. Keep going.”
His grin was disarming, but I couldn’t afford to be charmed by him. I couldn’t forget what he was and what he did for a living.
“You’re going to kill me, and I’m not going to let you.”
His smirk turned wicked. “Is that right? How are you going to stop me?” His magnetic gaze drank me down. “What are you going to bargain with?”
“I-I have a proposition for you,” I stated as confidently as I could.
“Hmm, I’m all ears.” He seemed to be getting closer, closing in, making it harder and harder to breathe.
“I want to hire you.”
There. I’d said it.
The statement stilled the man above me.