When I’m ready, I summon my usual swagger and walk outconfidently. Specter is leaning back in his seat, staring down at his cocktail, but as if he can sense my presence, his head snaps up, and he smiles.
I retain my composure, keeping my gaze neutral and cool, and sit with him. He lifts the roses from his lap and offers them to me.
“Groveling gift.”
My lips quirk in a smile that I fight back. “You think roses are the way to my forgiveness?”
“I’ll try anything. I don’t know if you can tell in the light, but they aren’t red. They’re a hybrid color, a deep burgundy with hints of black and purple. They’re rare, unique, and exquisite. Like you.”
I bend my head to sniff them, inhaling the lovely scent. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“The bow is cashmere.” He clears his throat. “For obvious reasons.”
I’m not exactly sure how to process this, so I simply mumble, “Nice touch.”
“I want you to know something.” He leans closer across the table. “I won’t mess up anything you’ve got going. I know I’m a lot. I’m intense, I get that, but you wouldn’t lose your freedom with me. You’d just have a soft place to come home to at night and someone else to fight for you and keep you safe.”
Gah, how does he know exactly the right thing to say to me? “I’m not in the market for a soft place or a hero.”
He nods, leaning back slowly. “Your performance was spectacular, and I’ve sufficiently humiliated myself enough for one night.” Specter bows his head. “Good night, Cashmere.”
He’s leaving? Do I want him to? Wait. Yes. I do. I should want him to leave. He’s overbearing and bossy and takes up too much of my time. I mentally summon my ever-ready snark.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I assumed.” He pulls money out of his wallet and tossesdown a wad of cash. “But if you ever decide you’re not, you know where to find me.”
I watch him walk away, completely stunned. That sounded like some kind of goodbye. Does that mean he’s not coming back?
Rudy and Darcy appear. “Girl,” Rudy says, “how did you let him walk away like that? Are you made of stone?”
Fuck. I think I might be.
CHAPTER 9
Specter
Three weeks.
Three fucking weeks since I’ve seen Cashmere and I’m feeling every second of it.
I light a cigarette while perched on the rooftop of an apartment building. Foster is next to me, his eagle-eyed gaze trained on the people milling around below. He’s been with us for almost two months now, and fortunately, he blends right in with our motley crew. He doesn’t need me or anyone else out with him, but Shadow never deviates from his training schedule. He’s also quiet when he’s working, unlike Ghost and Carnage, giving me plenty of solo time to wallow in my thoughts.
So here I sit, bored and missing the only source of light in my otherwise gloomy world. Does Cashmere notice? Does he wonder if I’m coming back? Does he give a fuck at all?
Giving him space is the right thing to do. I know this, but staying away is a hefty task. I can hardly think of anything but him. Is he safe?
“There,” Foster says. “You see him?”
I peer over the side in the direction Foster is pointing and spot the target right away. “Yep. What do you want to do?”
“Follow him on foot. Get him alone.”
“I’m right beside you.”
We hustle down the fire escape stairs and walk at a brisk pace to catch up with the target. Neither of us know shit about this guy except that he’s potentially armed, probably coked up, and he absolutely can’t live to see the sunrise.
He seems unaware of his surroundings, a common weakness among the arrogant and stupid. He thinks he’s untouchable—honestly, my favorite kind of target. Foster doesn’t fuck around with his targets. He doesn’t drag it out. He gets the assignments that have to be swift and tidy, and he loves his work.
