I look up.She’s stepped closer.“If he doesn’t suspect,” I say, “then I’ll still have to sit there pretending to be a husband, knowing you’re smiling at a man Iwillkill two minutes later, and praying to a God I don’t believe in that he never looks at you twice.”
“Youaremy husband, Cassius and I’m not afraid,” she says.
“Iam.”
She reaches out, tentative.When her fingers brush mine, it unravels me.
“I trust you,” she says.“But you have to trust me back.Let me do this with you.”
“Sava can go.She can protect herself.You’d be safe here with my brothers,” I say this knowing it’d never work.A man like that, one whose life depends on his ability to read people, he’d never buy two assassins playing house.
But the way I look at my Lindy girl?That’s not an act.
I exhale, sharp and guttural.“I’ll do the recon first,” I mutter.“Alone.If it’s clean, then maybe.”
She nods.She knows that’s as close toyesas she’ll get for now.As she leans into me, arms sliding around my waist, I keep one eye on the door.Because if anything goes wrong, I’m burning the whole fucking city down.Starting with Travis’s body.
The hotel is too polished.Too many mirrors.Too much glass.Every surface throws back a version of us.I hold the door open for her.Not for show.Because she’s mine.Because I want any man looking to see my hand on her.
The lobby is quiet, but not Lindy morning quiet.This kind irritates my gums.A bellhop offers to take our bags, and I shake my head once.I’ve got them.I’ve gother.
At the front desk, the clerk greets us.I give the fake name that Adrian booked the reservation under and slide over the IDs Travis cooked up.Lindy’s fingers slot between mine.Her ring clicks against the counter.One tap, then three.I mirror it back on her palm.
“Here’s your room key, Mr.and Mrs.Vega,” the clerk says.We head toward the elevator.I keep Lindy close, one hand on the small of her back, the other gripping the bags tight.Every time the elevator dings, my spine stiffens.I track every person who steps in.I memorize their shoes.The veins in their hands.The way they breathe.
Lindy says nothing, but I feel her watching me.She always sees more than she says.We reach our floor.I lead us to the room, unlock it, do a sweep before she even crosses the threshold—bathroom, closet, balcony.It’s safe.For now.
I set the weapons case in the nightstand and burners on the table.I’ve done this a hundred times.Never with her.Never with someone I’d kill for without a reason.Never with someone Ihavekilled for.“You okay?”
She nods.I search her face for a lie.“You’re worse than a mother hen.”
“Mother hens don’t carry knives.”
It makes her laugh.Good.I watch her toe off her shoes, stretch her arms over her head.Her shirt lifts an inch.My pulse flares.
Focus.
I cross the room, adjust the curtains, check the view.No direct sightlines from other buildings.That helps.Her arms come around my waist from behind.I don’t flinch, but every wire inside me sings.“You’re buzzing,” she murmurs against my back.“Like a line about to snap.”
“I’ll relax when he’s dead.”
“No, you won’t.”
I turn in her arms.Her eyes are steady.Brave.I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in.
“I don’t care if he sees through me,” I say.“But if he so much as looks at you wrong, Lindy girl, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes in the middle of the fucking lobby.”
“I know,” she says.No fear.Just that quiet certainty she’s been building into her bones since the night she was taken.She lifts a hand, cups my face like I’m not a killer.Like I’m a man.“I’m not pretending, Cassius,” she says.“I’m yours.We can do this.I’ll be okay.”
I kiss her once, then step back before I forget the job.“We rehearse the story,” I say.“How we met.How long ago.What we do.”
She smiles.“Book editor marriesAshenheart Defense Agency’ssecret assassin after a wrong number and a lot of texts.”
“Maybe we don’t play it that close to the truth, darling,” I pull her in, because she’s adorable and I need her mouth back on mine.
We run the cover until it feels like memory.When she yawns, I say, “rest,” and tuck her into bed under the feather comforter.“I’ll keep pulling feeds with Adrian, watch his patterns.”
She steals my pillow.“If you stare at those cameras all night,” she says into the fluff, “you owe me breakfast.”
