“We’re friends.”
“Ah. Of course. But friends don’t arrange their lives to suit one another.”
“You won’t listen to reason because I refuse to fuck you?” He meant to humiliate with his hard, mocking tone. Oh, he had a cruel streak, but generally he didn’t turn that razor tongue on her. He’d always pulled his punches because he figured she was fragile.
God, he knew her so little when it came right down to it. He saw what he wanted, not what existed, what life had made of her. She was like those unbreakable toys. Use them, abuse them, and they spring right back into shape. Sure, she had scars. But they would not end her.
She was supposed to gasp in shock. Her eyes ought to well with tears. But she merely crossed her arms and stared at him, brow lofted. “Honestly, Taye, you think so highly of yourself. You imagine I’m scheming to do you? Very well, say I am. How many men would I need to fuck before I’m dirty enough for you? Five? Ten? Should I do them all at once? Would you like to watch?”
His hands curled into fists, and
he
was the one who flinched from the mental picture.
Don’t like imagining that, do you? And yet you keep pushing me away.
“I can see there’s no talking to you right now.” He stalked from the room, shoulders tight.
She wished she could make it better, but he wouldn’t
let
her. Beyond a certain point, he had to fight his own demons. Everyone did.
He’d left the cell phone on the table. Mockingbird’s number would be in the recent calls, unless he’d remembered to delete it. Making a decision, she picked up the phone and dialed. Time to put her money where her mouth was.
CHAPTER 8
Out in the cold,
Taye took several deep, calming breaths. The urge to set something on fire faded.
She wants to work for Mockingbird.
The very idea enraged him. He wanted to see her safe, not risking herself against the Foundation as part of some counterwar. Why the hell did their agents all have bird names anyway?
When he closed his eyes, he could still see how Gillie looked, clad in nothing but a pair of pink panties. Her skin was so fucking—
Stop,
he told himself.
Don’t remember.
But he couldn’t drive the image out of his head. He hadn’t been with a woman in . . . well. Taye couldn’t recall. Presumably there had been some. Maybe many. But right now, he could only find the memory of one he couldn’t have.
A knot formed in his stomach. Sooner or later, she would meet someone else. Given how beautiful she was, it would be sooner, inevitably. She just needed a new life. If he stayed focused, he could open that door and carry the mental picture of her walking through it toward hope. Walking away from him.
No.
Even if he felt like losing her would kill him, he couldn’t fixate on that now. One step at a time. Six missions—that was the deal. And in exchange for his blood, they’d liberate Gillie from her tormentors. He could do this, no matter how it turned out for him. Guys like him never ended up well anyway. This, then, was the best he could do.
In keeping with his mood, the sky hung heavy overhead like a blood-filled bruise. Night fell fast in winter. As he paced, the shadows lengthened and snow drifted down, swirling in the icy wind. Reasonably he couldn’t expect their contact to arrive before morning tomorrow, which meant he was alone in the middle of nowhere with Gillie. That didn’t bode well, considering how much he wanted her, and how good she had gotten at goading him.
But surely he could make it through the next twelve hours without losing his mind or his self-control. They were safe here, at least. No neighbors to report on their movements. She preferred the city; after her long isolation, she loved being surrounded by people and noise. He had no doubt she found it comforting, which meant she wouldn’t like this spot one bit. Her nerves would be on edge, and he couldn’t leave her alone to listen to the silence.
Sighing, he squared his shoulders and went back inside. He found Gillie eating at the table by herself. The kitchen was a bright room compared to the rest of the house, faded yellow curtains and gold tiles. She had filled a bowl for him and brewed a cup of tea as well. Quietly thoughtful—she’d known he would linger in the cold to get his head straight, letting the weather take the edge off his temper. Taye wasn’t displaying any particular grace in dealing with the prospect of his own demise. Maybe it would be easier if he shared the burden with her.
But he couldn’t.
So he dropped onto the chair and refused to meet her eyes. “I know you aren’t thrilled with this.”
She shrugged. “It’s the best of a bad lot. You should eat.”
Refusing wouldn’t accomplish anything except to make her more suspicious, but it hurt him to shovel it down these days. Still, he had to try. So he took a few bites. He needed to stay strong as long as possible and hide what was happening beneath the skin. And the food was good, considering what she’d had to work with.
“Thanks.”
Outside, the snow fell fast and furious, deepening by the minute. Gillie followed his gaze. “Are we likely to be snowed in?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Taye could think of worse fates than a delay on his first mission and having her all to himself, possibly for the last time. Unfortunately, it would also test his resolve, which wasn’t made of steel. No matter how many times he told himself she wasn’t meant for him, his body didn’t believe it. In his darkest moments, he asked what it could hurt. But the answer was simple—it would hurt Gillie. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man leased for a month or two.
“Can you tell me anything more about how they operate?” No point in asking who she meant. “Mockingbird serves as the hub. He coordinates all the agents in the field and he sends them on missions. Generally, they work solo, though there are special exceptions. The type of mission varies according to the agent’s skill set.”
“Then they’d send
you
on black-ops type stuff,” she guessed. He’d forgotten how much she’d learned watching TV. Uncomfortable, he gave a curt nod, hoping to discourage further questions. He didn’t want her seeing the blood on his hands.
“Does it bother you?” Her blue eyes looked like summer, hot, lazy days where the sky was so blue it hurt to gaze up into the cloudless expanse. Sometimes he thought he saw angels in her aspect, so fierce and pure that it might be enough to burn him clean.
Other men had memories of their childhood, of school vacations and camp and youthful mischief. They recalled their parents and their birthplace, the house where they’d lived. But no matter how deep he dug, his first memory sprang from a dark place. Two men: one weeping, the other striking repeatedly. The sound of fist meeting flesh made a distinctive sound. And there was red neon. It wasn’t raining, but it had been. The pavement was wet, oil-slicked rainbows sparkling in the dark. The crimson flashed on and on, in tempo with the beating. He had no attachment to the memory. Taye didn’t know if he’d been the man on the ground moaning in agony, or the one delivering the pain.
“Killing?” He couldn’t lie to her, not even if it made her flinch from him in disgust. “No. In fact, each time, I like it a little more.” Naked admission. He might possess a human exterior but inner darkness had turned him into something else.
To his surprise, she gave a jerky nod, her pretty face sharp with anger. “I struggle with it. Part of me
likes
watching them die. Likes seeing them pay for what they’ve done. When you call the lightning, I feel very Old Testament inside. Then a little voice reminds me they’re still people. That their families love them. Yet the hate’s part of me now . . . I can’t help it. And I want them to pay.”
“I didn’t realize,” he said, startled.
Her pretty face held a ferocity he didn’t associate with her. Clearly, he should.
“You think you know everything about me, but you don’t. You make assumptions, but you never talk to me long enough to find out whether they’re true.”
“I’m afraid of getting too close to you.” Gillie drew the truth out of him, and that meant he had to be wary of her.
She smiled, but pain shadowed her eyes. “I know. Is it because you think I’m breakable?”
“What you went through would’ve destroyed most people.” Taye shook his head. “You’ve been a fucking prisoner for years, and you’re still not free. Do you even understand why it’s so important that I do this for you?” His voice cracked.
How humiliating. He was supposed to be this badass who could protect her, but he couldn’t check his own feelings. It was getting harder to stand apart, present but uninvolved. God knew, it would take a stronger man than him to remain indifferent to Gillie Flynn.
“I think it’s because you feel like helping me will settle your account somehow.”
Maybe so.
Though he’d never thought of it in those terms, he decided she was right. In the back of his mind, he saw her salvation as the one selfless thing he could do. If he took anything from her, even physical affection, then his efforts lost all altruistic merit.
“You’re not wrong.”
She propped her chin on her palm. “I want to work with the homeless.”
The seeming non sequitur surprised him. “What?”
“I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do, if we ever get clear . . . and I want to open a shelter. Teach classes. Provide help and counseling for those struggling with addiction.”
“For God’s sake, why?” That wasn’t what he envisioned for her at all . . . not that it was
his
decision. But he’d imagined a sweeter and more wholesome ending; he hated to think of Gillie spending her life surrounded by human garbage.
“Because of you. Because the lost need to be found.”
An ache bloomed in his chest. Setting down his fork, he curled his hands into fists and rested them on his thighs to keep from reaching for her. With only her soft voice, she peeled him down to the raw places.
Just a little longer,
he told himself.
Tanager will arrive tomorrow and you’ll leave Gillie in her care when you receive your first mission.
Yet he had seen to her safety for months now; relinquishing that charge brought him no joy.
Right then, he ought to say,
Don’t build your life around me.
But the words wouldn’t come. His desires were too diametrically opposed to his moral sense. So he merely gazed at her over the length of the table, unable to speak, unable to break free from the snare of her gaze.
She rose. If she touched him, he was lost. He had no more reserves, no more willpower. The reasons why not felt a million miles away. Instead, as if she sensed his weakness, she brushed past. Her steps retreated up the stairs and down toward the bathroom on the second floor. He felt as though he had been given a reprieve from an inevitable conflict. The water started, groaning in the elderly pipes.
This was a different kind of cruelty. Now he had to imagine water sluicing down her fair skin, beading on her breasts. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned how she looked with her head tipped back, hair wine dark and tangling about her throat. God, she was gorgeous, the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, and sheer need maddened him.
His hands shook as he rose to clear the table. He stuck the macaroni in the refrigerator and tried to calm himself via mundane tasks. It didn’t help. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans as he stared out the kitchen window at the falling snow. Through his blurred reflection, the night glowed in a study in contrasts, moonless sky and field of white, like an old Ingmar Bergman movie. He didn’t know how long he stood gazing out, but her voice startled him.
“Could you look at this?”
He turned reflexively, and swallowed a groan. Gillie stood dripping on the kitchen tile. Her bare feet were pink. His gaze traveled upward, devouring slim ankles, shapely calves, and deliciously inviting thighs. The towel hid nothing of her elegant curves. She looked almost as sexy after the shower as he’d imagined she would be beneath the curtain of water.
“At what?” Surely she didn’t just mean to tease him.
“It’s sore where they shot me.” She indicated the back of her shoulder.
Ah. The tranq dart.
Good to know she wasn’t pointlessly cruel. “Come here.”
She padded toward him and then spun, holding her damp hair aside, so he could assess the damage. The site was puffy with light contusions from the impact, but he didn’t think the puncture showed signs of infection. She had delicate skin, which meant she bruised easier than most. When her gaze met his over the slope of her shoulder, his whole body surged in response.
“How bad is it?”
“You’ll be fine. It’ll take a day or two to heal.”
Walk away now. Go put on some clothes.
She wasn’t stupid; far from it. So she had to sense his desperation. She must realize how hard it was to live with her, day after day, looking but not touching. For the past month, he’d woken in a hot fever, cock straining. Once he’d even tried to sate the urge with a girl from McGinty’s, but he couldn’t drum up the desire. Gillie would doubtless be delighted to learn she’d bewitched him and rendered him impotent. If he was a lock, she held his key.