She lay next to him on the grass, and he kept yelling to her. “Baby. Please. Please! Show me you’re alive.”
The broken sound coming out of him was pure polluted smoke, not voice. “Truth? You want the truth? Here’s the truth—even if I die…even if—” He coughed again, his lungs giving out. No. He’d say it, he had to. Just in case she could hear. “It was worth it. You were worth it, Tierney. All of it.”
She was so still and so pale, he was ready to rip his lungs from his body to give them to her. Then her chest constricted, and she sucked in a desperate breath.
Only then did he let himself pass out and succumb to his wounds, the swirling red lights of the fire trucks and ambulance dancing behind his eyelids.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tierney
I wokeup in a dark room feeling like I’d been run over by a fire truck.
My muscles were tight, my bones heavy, and I was pretty sure my ankle throbbed like it had its own pulse.
The ancient air conditioner coughed out stale air, the scent of cigarettes and mildew so sharp it hit the back of my throat. I stayed still, piecing together the last twenty-four hours in my head.
I was in my motel room in Venice. I’d hurt my leg but didn’t break anything. I’d crashed into deep sleep—ten hours minimum, judging by the darkness outside. Achilles found me, treated me, and spared me.For now. He’d carried me here, but he didn’t let me escape. I didn’t know what his plans were, and I’d be a complete fool to sit around and find out.
Carefully, I rolled sideways on the mattress. The silhouette of a colossal male greeted me.Achilles. By the way his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, he was dead-ass asleep.
Now let’s make him more dead and less asleep.
If only it were so simple.
I couldn’t stand up and trot around the room, searching for a weapon. That’d wake him up. I guess I could tiptoe my way out.But he’d 100 percent be on my ass in three seconds flat. No. I needed to off him and get it over with. If I blew this chance, there wouldn’t be another.
Maybe he intended to let me go. But the fact that he was still here didn’t bode well for me. Life had taught me that counting on anyone’s charity was a dumb idea.
Lying flat on my back, I stared at the ceiling and ran a mental inventory of potential weapons in the room. He’d gotten rid of all of my daggers in the alleyway, but I knew he slept with his Glock tucked in his waistband. I also knew I was a damn good thief. Spending the first fourteen years of your life living in a work camp that rationed chickpeas does that to you.
I slowly reached for his waistband, holding my breath so as not to make a sound. My fingers curled around the back strap of his firearm. The gun must’ve ridden up while he shifted in his sleep because it was already halfway out, lying on the mattress. A sigh of relief rattled in my throat. Inching it all the way out, I watched his face, expecting his eyes to snap open at any moment. But then the weight of the metallic weapon rested fully in my palm, and his eyes were still shut.
Fuck me. Okay.Phew.
The suppressor wasn’t screwed on. Not ideal, but I’d make it work. I cautiously rose to my knees, careful not to make the bedsprings squeak. I stared down at his sleeping figure, clutching the gun with both hands. Aiming for his head, I flicked off the safety. A click rang in the air.
Do it, you idiot. What is wrong with you? Save yourself.
Nausea coated the back of my throat. What the hell was I waiting for? Why couldn’t I pull the damn trigger?
“Do it.”
The words snapped me into reality. Achilles’s snakelike gaze locked on mine in the darkness. A nocturnal predator homing in on his prey.
I swallowed hard, still aiming the weapon at him.
“Go on,” he coaxed, his voice steel wrapped in velvet. “It’ll solve both our problems.”
No. It wouldn’t solve my most pressing one: that I’m still in love with your psychotic ass.
A sob ripped from my throat. I lowered the gun and dropped my head between my shoulders.
I couldn’t do it.
He scooted up so his back hit the headboard and gently pried the gun from my hand. I heard him thumb the safety on. Something about the finality of the sound made me collapse onto his chest. And that was when the waterworks started, tears streaming down my face. I was heaving, choking, gasping for air.
“Why can’t we kill each other?” I slammed his chest with my fists.
