I gasp loudly. How the hell does he know…?
Meanwhile, Quill is still pointing his gun at him, but I can tell he’s gone stiff from shock.
Logan clicks his tongue impatiently. “Take your mask off, Quill. Let’s not waste time here.”
He waits, crossing his arms, as Quill’s blue eyes flash from behind the mask, looking like he’s just as confused as me.
But finally, he very slightly lowers his gun-holding arm then removes his mask.
I gasp again, this time in relief, when I take in his beautiful blue eyes and the long, jagged scar glowing white.
There’s no doubt about it. It’s him. It’s really him. He’s here. I’ll be okay. Somehow, he’ll make it all okay.
But he keeps his eyes averted from me, focusing his attention on Logan.
“How the fuck do you know my name?” he growls.
“Oh, I know everything about you,” answers Logan smoothly. “Just like I know everything about her. But that doesn’t matterright now. What matters is getting her to safety.”
My eyes widen, and Quill looks equally amazed.
“You… you wanted tosaveme?” I croak out.
“Of course.” Logan looks surprised I had been assuming differently. “But it’s not easy to get you out from under Damien’s nose.” He grimaces. “It’s not easy, for a whole lot of reasons. But mainly, logistical ones. I’ll have to trust you.”
He nods at Quill.
“I’m going to leave this apartment. When I return, you will both be gone. Quill, you will bring her to this address.” He hands him a small card. “There’s a black jeep waiting for you in the parking lot. As soon as I can get away, I’ll join you there, and I’ll explain everything. In the meantime, I’m counting on you, Quill, to keep Piper safe.”
While talking, he’s been untying my wrists and legs, and now, he walks over to the door. He turns, says, “I trust you, Quill,” then closes the door behind us, leaving the two of us alone.
Quill’s eyes meet mine for the first time as I stand up, shaky from the drugs that have still not left my system. I try to take a step toward him, expecting to fall into his arms, to kiss him while we both try to figure out what the fuck just happened. But then, I stop in my tracks, realizing with a sick feeling that the gaze he’s got fixed on me is nothing like the usual one.
He doesn’t look relieved to have found me. His eyes have none of the dangerous darkness, the anger laced with desire that makes my stomach clench.
No. Now, he looks at me with a kind of cold harshness that makes my stomach fill with lead and sink.
Then he slowly lifts his gun up once more. This time, it’s pointing at me.
Realization hits me as I draw myself up straight, fighting the shakiness that isn’t from the drugs anymore.
“I’m your contract,” I breathe.
He doesn’t say a word, just keeps the gun fixed to my forehead, dead center, and I imagine that the wound it would leave would be identical to those of my parents and Jones.
His silence serves as confirmation.
“I can’t believe it,” I stammer, a shiver coursing down my spine.
The person I trusted to make it all okay.
That person is about to be my very undoing.
A horrible sense of déjà-vu overwhelms me.
“I can’t believe it.” I’m desperately trying to fill the blanks of his silence with the answers I want to hear, with the things that would fit into the absurd, empty world I’ve built around me.
He hates you but he wouldn’t kill you.
