“I missed you too,” I said, as he reached out, and the moment his hands touched my back, I shivered. “Shower with me. You’re staying, right?”
He nodded, shuffling until our sides were touching, his leg interlaced with mine, tugging on it. “I told you I would.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The growing worry someone would come for me in the middle of the night had become increasingly intense, alongside the paranoia. Every day I went into work, I assumed I’d be taken to some windowless office, and then every day I left work, I told myself they’d come for me at night, while I was in bed. But for the first time in over a week, I felt comfortable at home—perhaps not in this sweaty cum-soaked wet patch on the bed, but here, I was content.
***
I’d woken every fifteen minutes during the night, tossing and turning by Jacques’s side. My already beat-up teddy from childhood, Mr. Thimble, had fallen off the bed, and it was for the best. He would’ve been trampled on by Jacques’s hot and heavy body. The clean bedsheets were a little scratchy from having them drycleaned, and whatever starch they used in my office clothes, they’d used on the sheets too. Jacques didn’t seem to mind it, though. He’d slept soundly—he was awake now—but he’d stirred when I’d checked to make sure he was breathing a handful of times.
Eventually, I’d slept with a hand over his body and his leg hooked around me. I thought it would be impossible for him to leave without me noticing.
He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, though.
Lying in bed, the dull red light of the clock on my nightstand revealed it was 6:56 a.m., and so I lay there until I heard him cuss and stomp his heavy feet. I jumped right out of bed and ran to the kitchen, completely naked. He looked me up and down and grinned. He was in his sweats again—no T-shirt, his physique like a Greek statue if they were covered in graffiti. He stood over a frying pan, cracking eggs into hot oil.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I just keep getting fucking shell in the egg,” he said. “Don’t come near, you might get splashed by hot oil.”
“You’re there,” I scoffed, approaching him, but now the oil sizzled and spat. I flinched after a single drop touched me. “Fuck.”
“Now, now, kitten. Language,” he said. “You know that doesn’t faze me.” He fished a hand into the cooking egg and pulled the shell out. “You don’t mind me touching them, do you?”
I giggled. I felt like I was ready to collapse like a fainting princess because this had to have been a dream. He wasn’t really standing in my kitchen this early, making eggs. Making me eggs? “How many—” I looked around. He’d used an entire carton of twelve eggs. “That’s a lot of eggs.”
He flexed a bicep, and what were words again? “We both need the protein,” he said. “I looked for meat, but you’ve barely got anything in.”
“That’s because I’m—” I stepped forward, then back. I wasn’t going to get any closer, not with hot oil firing on all bases. “You know, any day now they’re going to come and get me for theirprotection.” I didn’t want to say anything to loud; it was impossible to know if my home had been bugged. And then I realized, I’d bared my soul to him last night, so if there were people listening, they’d heard it all anyway. I sighed; my brain couldn’t keep up. I needed a vacation, but most importantly, I need Jacques to stay.
“Put some clothes on,” he said. “I don’t need a peeping Tom looking in at you. Or you getting too close.”
“Okay,” I said, turning around and giving my ass a little wiggle, and looking back at him, his eyes were fixed on it. And he was being covered in pops of hot oil, completely unfazed by it. “Watch yourself too,” I said.
He smacked his lips. “Get your ass in some clothes.”
I rushed off, still giggling to myself about the fact I’d finally gotten him to stay the night. I’d also managed to have someone make me breakfast—was this a continuation of the third date? Or maybe it was now considered date four? Either way, having him around might be a long-term solution to whatever was coming my way—especially since he was akiller.My body shivered to think it was completely true. I’d not seen him in action, but if he was willing to climb that tree, be covered in wounds, and come out of it stronger, then my bosses at the pharma company weren’t going to be any match for him.
And then a knock came at the door.
A bang. That was a gunshot.
5. JACQUES
Assassins were getting so fucking sloppy. There was a masked man with a Glock 19, right in my face. He had the wrong guy. He shot, and it landed in the wall with a whack. There wasn’t even a compression silencer on this thing. The bang must’ve been heard through the entire apartment block. I punched him in the face, disorienting him, then took the gun.
Ezra stood in the hallway, looking at us.
This might’ve been the guy who I’d seen in here before I fell.
I swiped his legs out from under him, forcing him into the door, then to his knees. I yanked off the black beanie with eye holes cut from it like he was some sort of cartoon villain, and I held the gun to his head, pressing the warmth of the freshly used muzzle to his skin. The smell of his flesh sizzled.
“Who the fuck do you work for?” I asked, my teeth gritting and my eyes narrowing as I scanned for neighbors in the hallway. I didn’t know if they were going to come out, or if they would even have heard—I mean, it was a pretty loud noise, unless they were all out this early. I wasn’t prepared for this. I hadn’t been briefed on what was about to go down.
“Don’t,” Ezra said, walking up behind me.
I glanced back at him, then my head flinched back to the man. His face was blank, zero expression. A trained killer. I wondered if his number matched mine—doubtful, and mine was about to have another added to it. “Who are you?”
