The little flame of hope that had flared to life in his chest guttered and died.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Go on, now.”
She hesitated a few seconds longer but eventually pushed up from the table and followed Boss out of the cottage and into the night.
He continued to stare after her even after the door closed. In his mind’s eye he could still see the swish of her hips, the sway of her long, dark hair.
“Damn, man, you got it bad, huh?” Black Widow drawled, her gaze glinting with crude speculation. “Bet it drives you crazy that she’s dating some guy who drives a Mercedes and wears Gucci cuff links.”
Obviously, she’d been spying on the place. Obviously, she’d seen Sabrina with Martin.
“Bet you want to feed that fucker his own teeth. Bet you dream about her wrapping that lithe little body around you, moaning your name and?—”
Hew transferred his pistol to the top of the table, barrel angled straight at the assassin’s chest. He slowly, deliberately slid his finger from the trigger guard to the trigger itself.
She snapped her mouth shut.
And that suited him just fine.
43
Sabrina came awake with a start.
Which was when she realized she’d fallen asleep.
She’d tried not to. After Boss and Hew had left with Black Widow, she’d promised herself she’d wait up for them, no matter how long it took.
Sleep is for normal people, she’d told herself. Not people who spirit assassins out of the country in the middle of the night.
But her traitorous body hadn’t gotten with the program.
Even sitting upright in the chair she’d moved back into the corner of her bedroom hadn’t been enough to keep her from succumbing to bone-deep exhaustion. The blanket she’d pulled up around her chest had fallen to her waist. The paperback she’d been determined to read lay facedown in her lap, pages crinkled from where it’d fallen from her lax fingers.
She blinked, trying to get her bearings, trying to determine…
How long have I been out?
It’d been midnight when Fish and Eliza trudged up the stairs from their date night at Red Delilah’s. She’d spent half an hour bringing them up to speed on what they’d missed, and then another fifteen minutes answering the frantic questions they lobbed at her head. Afterward, voice hoarse from recounting the nightmare, she’d padded downstairs to make tea.
She’d hoped the heat and the caffeine would be enough to stave off oblivion, but…
No such luck.
The last thing she remembered was checking her phone and seeing it was half-past two. Then…nothing. Not even dreams.
Now, her gaze slid to the window. To the light leaking in through the thin crack of her curtains. It was pink and muted gold. That first blush that heralded the dawn.
For heaven’s sake, the little voice chided. You slept half the night away.
Had Hew come home without her hearing? She’d left her door wide, knowing he’d have to walk by her room to get to his. But she didn’t sleep with one eye open like he did because she hadn’t grown up attuned to danger the way he had. It was very possible he’d slipped by while she was zonked out.
She picked up the book, did her best to smooth its crinkled pages, and set it on the bookcase beside her. Then, she pushed the blanket to the floor, ready to stand, before?—
She froze.
There it was again. The sound that had jerked her from sleep. Heavy boots moving down the hallway.
His boots. His stride.
