Page 16 of Blood We Steal

I shook my head. “I think what I think doesn’t matter. I know that as much as you hate me, you want me just as much and you want to break me most of all.”

The words came out like I believed them. I wished I did, knew that would make things easier. But when had things ever been easy with Rubin? Not when I’d been too terrified to look at him, let alone speak to him. Not later when speaking to him had led to dreaming of him, had led to yearning for him, even with the knowledge he’d never want me back.

“You’re playing games, Simone,” Rubin whispered.

“No, this is not a game. This is me explaining why you shouldn’t kill me.”

I held his gaze, even though he looked like he wanted to throttle me. But something told me he wouldn’t.

I hoped it was true.

Because I had just staked my life on a wish.

And a lie.

NINE

Rubin

Simone looked up at me, her face set in a familiar expression. Before, I called it serene, but now I knew what it really was.

Calculating.

Now that I’d seen it, I couldn’t unsee it. And with every second that ticked by, I saw her measuring the odds, trying to anticipate my response so she could shape her own.

I hadn’t thought it was possible to hate her more than I already did, but I’d been wrong yet again.

And yet again, she was right.

I took a step back from her, hoping the distance might help me hold the reins of control that were slipping through my fingers.

It didn’t.

Thud.

The sound rang muted and hollow through the cavernous open space, and Simone flinched and broke my gaze to chase the sound. Perhaps it was those things trying to get to us, or worse, the COs.

I kept my eyes on her.

Fuck.

I didn’t know what to do now.

I always knew what to do.

Who to pay off. Who to kill.

Except when it came to her, apparently.

What I did know down to my bones was what I wanted.

The same thing I’d wanted in all the years I’d known her.

No, that wasn’t true. Not exactly.

At first it had been curiosity, a novel reaction after so many years running the organization that no one ever surprised me. She had, so of course she’d caught my attention. Simone wasn’t beautiful, and she didn’t try to be. She didn’t throw herself at me or the men, try to curry favor.

She did her job, collected her money, and went home to her boring, safe little life where her annual trips to the Japanese bookstore in the suburbs counted as adventure.