Never Kiss a Bad Boy (37 page)

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“Y
ou know,” Anabelle said, watching me load a heavy crate of glasses on top of the bar. “I have to say, it's been a little quiet in here lately. I swear, I hardly see you or Mr. Fallow anymore.”

Blinking, I reached for another case and squinted at the young woman. “What? Come on, we're still in here all the time.”

Her shrug was pretend-casual. Something was on her mind. “Not really. The past week or so, I've seen you—what? Two times, maybe? And Mr. Fallow, hell, he comes in the morning to help when he has to, but he was gone for half a week a while back.”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. Look, we've just been busy.”

“With your new
girlfriend?
” Her eyebrows went up, wiggling.

My grip faltered on the crate. Shoving it into place, I dusted my palms together and scowled at the bartender. “Jeez. You know I'm your boss, too, right? Why don't you treat me like you do Jacob? You'd never say that to him.”

She laughed, hands squeezing her hips. “I noticed you didn't argue with me. So that girl, what's her name? Maria?”

“Marina,” I sighed.

“Yeah. Marina. She
is
your girlfriend, then.” Tugging her hair, Anabelle's smile continued to grow. I knew she wanted an answer, even if she was already assuming facts. The thing was, I didn't know
how
to answer. What I wanted to say, what I felt, wasn't exactly smart to admit openly.

Not when I didn't know what was going to happen.

Folding my arms, I reclined on the bar and frowned. “Okay, enough of this. Finish up cleaning or whatever it is you do here.”

Lifting her hands in defense, she rolled her eyes and giggled. “'Whatever it is I do.' Right, got it. I'll stop poking the beast.” She swung her ass, overtly trying to get me to look. It was a walk down memory lane.

Those days, I'd been chasing life at the bottom of a bottle or between some soft thighs. It was a different decade, a TV show that I no longer starred in. Since Marina had come into my life, she'd replaced every urge I had with a desire for her.

Only her.

The bar was too cloistering. Needing to escape, I grabbed my coat and shoved out into the streets. Here, I could be free of being teased about my relationship with Marina.

Really, what was I going to say?
Yes, I'm kind of seeing her. Jacob is, too! Go bother HIM about it, I'm sure he'll have some nice words for you.
Grinning, I ruffled the back of my hair.

A voice perked up, interrupting my stroll. “Kite?”

I'd almost bumped right into her, our paths about to intersect.

Marina.

She was dressed in a jacket and plain jeans, but somehow managing to look better than any other woman in the city. Her hands clutched her purse tight, eyes squinting. She was surprised to see me.

Straightening my shoulders, my grin spread. “What are you doing out here?”

Marina darted her gaze side to side, from my feet back to my face. She was nervous, but then, she often got fidgety when I was close to her. “Just getting some air. Are you... working right now?”

Half turning, I looked back where the bar was down the street. “Kind of. We don't open for another hour. Did you want to get a drink?”

“At two in the afternoon?” she asked. The curve of her lips was tempting me more and more, especially when she smiled in disbelief. “It's early for alcohol. Cocoa would be good. Want to go do that?”

“Marina Fidel,” I gasped, covering my mouth. “Are you asking me on a date?” The flush that hit her cheeks had my heart thumping. She made it such a treat to rile her up. Reaching out, I adjusted the front of her jacket. The zipper had slid low, and another man might have peeled it open, but I did the opposite. Surprising her was a real treat. “Yeah. Let's go get something hot.”

That line just made her pinker.

Together, we slipped into one of the thousands of cafes filling the city. It was that magical hour where no one was free, busy at their jobs or classes. We had the place to ourselves.

I bought our drinks, not needing to ask what she wanted. In a small table in the corner, a view of the street through a large window, we sat and sipped and smiled.

It was oddly normal. Special and private. Pretending we were not who we were—a hitman and a woman on a murder mission—wasn't easy. But with her smiling at me, eyes alight and lips cherry red... I tried my best.

She slid her jacket off, revealing the creamy white shirt beneath. It clung to her chest, extra bright against her toffee skin. “Hey.” Her fingers snapped, drawing my attention briskly. Her smile was coy. “Eyes up here, buddy. I didn't take my coat off to distract you.”

I folded my hands under my chin. “You don't need to strip to distract me. That's the problem.”

Pursing her lips, she watched the outside world and acted like her ears weren't going red because of my compliment. “Is this weird for you?” she asked, gesturing with her paper cup.

“What, having coffee? Relaxing?”

Her attention swung back to me. The unfiltered realness of her question balanced between us. “Yeah. All of that.”

Toying with the lid of my cup, I smiled thoughtfully. “Not at all. If anything is weird, it's how natural this is. Spending time with you feels right, no matter how we do it.”

“Hunting, stalking, and coffee. They all go so well together,” she said.

I laughed helplessly. “I guess we've been doing a lot of intense stuff.”

Inquiring eyes roamed my face. “Well, what
do
you do besides clean your gun and flirt with innocent girls?”

“Innocent? You?” I teased.

“Wait, are you saying you
are
flirting with me?”

Narrowing my eyes, I ran my toe along her ankle under the table. Her parted lips were intoxicating. “You want to know what else I do?” The more I chased an answer, the more my smile faded.

I'd been pondering this right before Marina had bumped into me. Nameless girls and forgotten hours, whiskey for breakfast, polishing my Ruger every chance I got. That had been my life.

The closer I got to her, the less I thought about my old addictions.

Who was I without them?

“You okay?” she asked. Marina was staring at me, genuine worry carved into her features.

Reaching out, I placed a hand on hers and felt her fingers spasm. She hadn't been ready for me to touch her. Definitely not ready for me to squeeze my hold. “Everything that I used to do for fun in the past is just that. The past. It doesn't matter now.”

Marina's mouth went slack. Every line vanished from her pretty face. When she spoke, it was a hush so quiet I had to read her lips. “Then what
does
matter?”

The simple word was so close to spilling down my tongue.

You.

What a word. I couldn't do it. Admitting my feelings was unfair for both of us. I couldn't torture her, or me, with something that might never happen. Until I was sure that Marina would live—that she'd pass Jacob's test—I just couldn't say it. Even so, I knew the fucking truth.

Marina was what mattered to me now.

She held my hand for a long while. Under the table, her boot rubbed my calf. It was forward and comforting all combined. I wanted more of this side of her, but she had other ideas.

“The past,” she whispered. “I want to know more about it. About you, where you come from and who you are.”

Pulling my hand away, I gripped my cup so tight the edges crinkled. “Sorry, but no. It's not a tale worth telling.”
It's one I want to forget, and never can.

There was no hiding the anger that danced through her eyes. Amazingly, she took a slow breath and sighed. “I think that's unfair. You know mine. Tell me something, a
tiny
something. Your first contract, what about that?”

Tapping my foot, I turned my cup in a circle. It was hard to stop fidgeting. “You already know one of my kills—”

“Two,” she said, waggling her fingers. “Culver and Frank.”

“Right, sorry.” Damn, Marina did know a lot. This was what had Jacob so worried.

Was it worse to give her more information?

No,
I told myself.
She has enough info already to put me and Jacob behind bars. More won't hurt.

She's either alive at the end of this, or she takes our secrets to her grave.

Pushing the cup from one hand to the next, I studied her. When I'd told her about the contract that had gone wrong, it had been a cautionary tale. I'd wanted to scare her, for her to grasp how fucked up what we did was.

She had been acting like this was a game, or a movie. Marina didn't understand.

This girl had never killed anyone.

“Daisy,” I said, wincing at the name. “She was our first employer, a stripper at the club we bounced for. I mean, she was more hooker than dancer but—it doesn't matter.”

I got her killed.

The cold ache of guilt I felt was familiar. I often thought of myself as a monster, but thinking of the girl who had done nothing wrong—a girl no different than Marina—my heart still skipped.

Marina was exposing me to some deeply buried shame.

“Jacob was the one that started everything.” I said. Eyeing Marina, I tried to read her face. “He went to Daisy, told her he could have the pimp that was beating up her and the other girls killed. He played it off, pretended he knew a guy.”

“That guy was you,” she said confidently.

“Yeah. Me.” Chuckling cynically, I lifted my coffee. It was empty, so I just held it. My hands needed to do something. Anything. “Jacob followed the pimp to his home, and I made sure no one followed us.”

The face of that man entered my brain. His name had been Emilio; an ugly guy with uglier habits. He was a bastard, always busting up the girls who worked for him when they dared to disobey him.

I shook myself and said, “The shithead lived alone. Cornering him was a cinch.” There was a tsunami rising in me that I fought to bury. At the time, Emilio's death had felt satisfying, but I didn't want Marina to see me relishing the memory. “We stuck a plastic bag over his head, suffocated him. Jacob held him down and I squeezed his neck. It wasn't pretty.”

Her eyes were bulging. It was eerily similar to how Emilio's had looked.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “That was too much detail. You didn't need to know the method.”

“Yes, I did.” That time, she took
my
hand. It was electric, I sat straighter. “Kite, you murdered the man who was hurting those girls. I had no idea that your first kill was so... heroic.”

If I'd still had coffee in my cup, I would have watched it spill everywhere. It was a wonder I caught the container after it bounced off the tabletop. “Heroic?”

There were so many things wrong with what she'd said.

I wasn't a hero.

And Emilio hadn't been my first kill.

Shaking my head, I studied her, checking for pity. Nothing glowed in Marina's eyes but warmth and appreciation.

“You're wrong,” I sighed. “I did it because Jacob
said
we should do it. The money was too good, we needed to get out of the slums. Besides... it wasn't like I saved Daisy.”

“What do you mean?”

Pinching my nose, I filled my lungs. This memory always haunted me. “She'd told one of the other dancer's that she was going to teach Emilio a lesson. He found out what she said. Before we stepped in that night, he'd called her over.” My brained flashed with bloody images. “He beat her to death in his bathroom. We found her body after we killed him.”

Marina had gone very pale. “That's not your fault.”

To this day, I didn't agree. It was very much our fault.

She whispered, “His death is even more fitting, then. You saved the other girls. You
are
a hero, both of you are.”

Grimacing, I said, “That man was trash, but not everyone we killed was.”

Wrinkling her brows, she held my hand and didn't wrench away. I was thankful for that. “Unless you plan to list every contract for me right here, right now, so that I can judge, then all I can go by is what I know.” Turning my palm over, she traced the lines, tickled the invisible scar she couldn't see. “That man beat women, killed them, and Frank helped murder my family.”

I didn't know what to do. Was she really arguing that I was a good person?

“And Culver?” I asked. “You don't know what he did or didn't do.”

She held my gaze steadily. “You do, though. Was he a saint?”

My head moved, shaking side to side. I couldn't stop it. I wanted to deny everything she was reaching for, but it was impossible. “No, but that changes nothing.”

“For me, it changes a lot. Some people... they're better off dead.”

I swear, she was trying to pour her strength
into
me. She was as determined as Jacob to open my eyes. Marina believed what she was saying, just as Jacob had, so long ago.

I wanted to believed it, too.

Sliding my arm back, I tried to escape. Her other hand closed on my forearm, forcing me still. Confused, I let her lift my hand. Marina was peering at my knuckles. “Jacob wouldn't tell me what these tattoos meant. The whole 'swim' thing.”

“He's good at keeping secrets,” I said softly.

Her lashes were a fringe, but they didn't hide the determination in her black pupils. “The other day, I won the paintball contest. I'm supposed to get anything I ask for. Well, I want you to tell me what these mean.”

The edges of my frown couldn't have gone deeper. “That's what you want?” I'd expected her to ask for something... bigger. Bolder.

Something like her guaranteed survival.

My silence gave my thoughts away. Marina smiled, soft and tender. “You already told me, you can't promise what I want from you guys. Nothing has changed, asking for my life to be spared would be a waste.”

I was ready to grab her face and scream. I'd declare to Marina and the world that if we could only be certain she'd
never
be our downfall, then of course I'd promise her safety.

I was burning to promise her
anything.

And I fucking couldn't.

“I'm right, aren't I?” she asked bluntly.