I hold her tightly and ignore the warmth of her body seeping into mine as I make my way out of the condo and down the hall. Luckily, the building is still vacant, otherwise I may have to avoid some awkward glares due to the passed-out girl in my arms. I've already scoped the place out, and the only people coming to and from are the occasional contractors finishing things up here and there, and they use the service elevator and stairwells. Not to mention, the unit that Cora and Miller were in has its own private elevator, saving me even more time in having fewer camera feeds to scrub once I'm done with the job.
Cora is light in my grasp, her petite frame weighing nothing compared to the brute she took down. It's a wonder she made it out alive, and from the redness around her neck and face, I can't imagine it wasn't without a fight.
Out of nowhere, anger rises within me, and if that man wasn't already dead, I'd consider ending his life just because I could. I don't know what happened, or why things escalated the way they did, but if I was a betting man, I'd venture to say he fucking deserved what came to him.
My anger is suppressed by a slight sense of feeling proud of Cora for taking him down. I'm sure it wasn't easy, especially at her size and having never killed someone before, but she persevered all the same, and that alone shows just how capable she really is.
I carry her into the private elevator, my gaze darting down to check her breaths every few seconds, and then into the parking garage where my vehicle is. Holding her with just one arm, I open the passenger door and slip her inside. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake up, not even when I secure the seatbelt across her chest and buckle her in. I don't know whether I should be satisfied or worried about her lack of concern, but I know one thing is certain—she's safe with me.
At least, she is for now.
The scope of my job is to fix the situation, and maybe I'm stretching the description by taking it upon myself to take her under my wing, but what kind of man would I have been if I left her to her own devices? What if she was the loose thread that made all of this come undone and put the organization at risk? Those are the things I tell myself in a weak attempt to justify how very fucked up I am for thinking I should take her with me.
And it's what I continue to ponder as I drive the few blocks to my apartment on this side of town.
I drive straight into my garage and close the door a moment before I cut the engine, hoping like hell the tinted windows of my car prevented anyone from seeing the sleeping beauty in my passenger seat. I'm sure I'm being paranoid, but one can never be too sure, especially when you deal with the kind of evil shit I do on a daily basis.
Sighing, I shake my head and exit the driver’s side, careful to shut the door with less force than usual. I stroll around the front and open Cora's door. She still hasn't woken up. Has the shock of the situation finally set in? I can't remember my first kill, it was a long time ago, so it's not like I can recall how it felt or what I went through emotionally. Mine was inevitable, though. When you grow up in a life of crime, death becomes the norm.
I unbuckle her seatbelt and hold my breath to see if she's going to move, and when she doesn't, I scoop her into my arms again, where it feels like she belongs, and carry her into my place. Despite the strong desire to not let her go, I lay her on my couch and step back, too afraid my presence will disturb her. Her breathing evens out, and she does that thing with her head where she nestles it to get more comfortable. I drape the dark grey blanket hanging on the back of the couch over her and drag my hand through my beard, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do now that I have her here.
What was I thinking? This is foolish. Quite possibly the dumbest thing I've ever done. I don't know her. She doesn't know me. I was called out on a job by Miller, and somehow, I thought it would be a good idea to take it upon myself to babysit the town's newest killer.
But damn if she isn't an adorable little murderer.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I step away, pull it out, and slide my finger across the screen to answer the call.
"Yeah," I say, a bit quieter than I normally would have.
"Silver," Miller greets me on the other end.
"Job is complete," I tell him part of the truth.
"And the girl?"
I exhale and watch her from across my apartment. I could lie to him and make up some story about how I sent her on her way, or I could risk being castrated by admitting I took her with me...
I consider both options carefully and choose the one that will no doubt surprise both of us.
"She's here." I pause and add, "With me."
Miller audibly exhales. "Okay. That's good. That's good, right?" His tone shifts to something like nervousness. "Is everything okay? Let me talk to her."
"She's asleep," I tell him, suddenly realizing I have no idea what the connection between the two of them is.
Is she Miller's girl? Have I sort of kidnapped a very powerful man's woman?
"Yeah, of course she is," Miller says. "She's probably in shock."
"I didn't know what else to do with her," I admit. "She didn't exactly come across like our kind."
"No," Miller confirms. "She isn't. Not really."
He doesn't elaborate, and that only makes my mind wander even more.
Who is she to him? And why did he cover up for her?
"Whatever she needs, give it to her. I'll compensate you fairly." Miller clears his throat. "Whatever she needs, okay?"
