Tonight, he’d come to kill them. Marcie and her
partner. Why them and not her?
“You only kill…murderers?” That was the only possible explanation.
His expression was cold, detached. “Not exclusively.”
“Children? Small, furry animals?” Her voice
cracked.
For a second she thought she’d gone too far. The expression she’d noticed earlier was back, not flitting
now, but holding its place.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her heart slammed
against her ribs.
He was going to kiss her.
And she was truly, truly bat-shit crazy, because a
part of her wanted him to.
Then he smiled—just with his lips, not with his
eyes—and said, “That mouth ever get you in trouble?”
More often than she’d ever admit.
Forever got crammed into about three seconds. Then
he looked away, jaw clenched, eyes focusing on the far
wall. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe.
She didn’t know where to look. Not at him. He only
42
SINS OF THE HEART
amped her confusion into redline. And she sure didn’t
want to look at the bodies again. That was a sure path
to losing whatever pretense of self-control she’d mustered.
Confusion and hope and, yeah, gratitude mixed together in a bubbling stew. Because she owed him for
saving her life.
Question was: What would he demand in return?
“No one does something for nothing,” she muttered.
Above them, the darksouls dipped and swayed,
