She stilled. “I was coming back. I just needed to get out. I need to do something. When I got the message from Sondra, I just acted.”
“You didn’t enjoy dinner with Nash and Georgie.”
She hesitated at the change of subject. “Well, I think Nash is plotting to kill me.”
“He won’t hurt you.”
“I like Georgie. And dinner was fine. I just… Bastian, I felt like an outsider. I’ve got no family, I didn’t go to college. I’ve gotnone of the normal life experiences. I’m an assassin, for Pete’s sake. Georgie is beautiful, in love, working her dream job?—”
“And lost all her family over the last few years. Nash helped her track down and kill the man who murdered her sister.”
Lark blinked. “Oh.”
“And the rest of us are assassins as well, Lark. We’ve all killed, we’re all misfits.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I’m still not done being mad at you.”
“Good, because I’m not done being mad at you.” I swung my leg over the bike.
She looked at me. “I hate that you look hot sitting on that bike.”
“Get on.”
“Fine.” She pulled the helmet on and climbed on behind me.
Her small body pressed up against my back. Something in me settled. I liked having her there. Alive. Safe. Mine.
I pulled my own helmet on and started the bike. Her arms tightened around me.
I took off. We sped down the street, and she held on tighter. When I turned the corner, she leaned into it. The way her hands flexed on me, I knew she was enjoying the ride.
I took a slightly longer way back to the casino, but soon we reached the Avernus. I drove down the ramp into my private garage. I parked the bike and Lark took her helmet off, shaking out her hair.
“I like your bike,” she said.
“Good.”
“Can I ride it sometime?”
“Yes, but not without me.”
She pouted briefly. “Fine.” She glanced at all my sports cars. “Can I drive one of these some time?”
“No.”
“But you have a hundred of them.”
“You want to go somewhere, I’ll drive you.” I took her hand. “Come on. I need to stop by my office to grab my laptop and a few things.”
In the elevator, I pressed my palm against the lock screen until it beeped. She leaned against the wall, slipping off my jacket. “Are you still angry at me?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth opened. “Youput the tracker onme. I’ve got more of a right to be pissed.” She lifted her wrist. “I like this bracelet. Now I have to take it off.”
I smirked. “You can try.”
She tried to unfasten it, then frowned. She tried again.
