Something softens in his hazel eyes. He closes his hand around mine and pulls me to the end of the alley. Police cars converge on the conference center.
We dart across the street and run for another two blocks to a self-park lot near the river.
Dallas guides me to a black truck, opens the passenger side, and helps me in. Before I can reach for the seatbelt, he has it in his hand and leans across me to click it into place.
The scents of cinnamon and musk wash over me, reminding me of our kiss, and my muscles relax. It shouldn't be comforting after all that's happened. I know that. I can't help feeling it anyway.
He opens the glove compartment, grabs a package and drops it into my lap, then shuts the door and hurries to his side of the truck.
Cleaning wipes.
"For your hands," he says as he starts the truck and pulls out into traffic.
My fingers tremble as I remove some and start scrubbing at the blood on my hands. Tears fill my eyes, making it hard to see, but I swipe them away. Not yet. I can't fall apart yet. I need answers. "Who are you? Is Dallas even your real name? Who was that man? Why—?" My voice cracks and I have to clear my throat twice before I can get more out. "Why did someone kill my father?"
He tenses, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. Then he sighs. "What do you know of your father's business dealings?" he asks quietly.
"I know he wasn't a good man, okay? Things he did were... wereshadyat best. That's no reason to kill him. He was trying to do good for the country."
"Was he?"
His voice has no judgment, only curiosity. It slices through my indignation and I deflate. Scrubbing my skin feels easier than saying, "No. I don't know. Is that what you want to hear?"
Dallas shrugs.
"That man in the alley said a million and a half. Was that how much he was going to get for my father's murder?"
"Five hundred thousand for him and another five hundred for you."
His voice is clipped. Cold.
Where is the man that kissed me? And why do I want him back so badly? "He knew you."
He slides a glance at me. "And another five hundred for me."
That's right. The man said something else I didn't understand. "He said you hesitated. With what?"
"Gemma. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."
I turn in my seat and grab his jacket. "Someone killed my father. They wanted to kill me. I need all the answers, Dallas or whoever you are." My cheeks burn hot with anger, but I don't care. I throw a dirty wipe at him. "Tell me."
"I took the contract on your father as well."
Pain rips through me. The way he held me when he kissed me was tender. It was the best kiss I've ever had, and all the while he was sent to kill my dad. It's stupid but part of me hopes he's an evil twin.
"But you didn't kill him." I don't know if it's a question or a statement. I'm pretty sure the guy in the alley was bragging about the kill.
"I hesitated."
"Why?" Why take a job to kill someone and then don't do it? Why kiss me and then rescue me?
"Gemma."
He's not going to tell me.
I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. What am I doing? I have to get out. Get away from him and death and killers and... and soft feelings I shouldn't have for him. I yank on the door handle, but it doesn't open.
Of course it's locked. I fumble for the latch, my fingers shaking.
