- Chapter One -
Marina
––––––––
I 'm falling in love with killers.
Two killers, to be precise. I know; I'm insane for getting into this situation. I've never claimed to be the wielder of great fucking ideas.
They're smooth, dangerous, cunning and capable of whatever they deem necessary.
My two hitmen...
All mine.
Standing in front of the wide window, a place I often found myself loitering, I gazed down on the city. The sun was cresting, coating the sentinel buildings in gold and cherry. It was an hour where nothing should have stirred. Except this was New York, and it never really slept.
Kite's apartment had a view that was worth the price of admission. I'm not talking about actual cash. What that man with his quick smiles and wicked words asked of me was... something else.
Endurance, I mused, trying to make sense of my own thoughts. Spending time here, in his presence, demands that I hold myself together. That I risk crumbling in his energy and electric tension.
Resisting one alluring man was hard enough.
Two of them?
Laughing to myself, I pushed my forehead onto the glass. Kite was enough of an issue, always clouding my thoughts and warming my belly. His best friend, Jacob? Just rolling the name through my brain set every cell firing in warning.
As I said, they're killers; I had every reason to react viscerally to their presence. But it wasn't just that. Lord, if it could have been just that.
Rubbing my lower leg, I winced. There was a dark bruise beneath my jeans, left there from our recent foray in Upstate New York. The two men had suggested we play paintball, insisted it'd be both fun—and good for my training.
Sorry, training; I should explain that. You see, while it's clear I'm not exactly risk averse, I had a very good reason for spending so much time—sleeping in the same apartment, even—with these talented hunters.
They were murderers... and I needed someone dead.
See? Simple.
All I want is revenge for her. For my whole family. After I got that, I didn't care what happened to me. I knew the awful secret about Kite and Jacob, they were contract killers. That knowledge, given to the authorities, would be their undoing.
I had one safety net; a letter I'd locked away in the bank containing their info, explaining who they were in case something happened to me. It was essentially blackmail to guarantee they helped me.
But once I killed the monster responsible for everything, then handed them that letter as I'd promised?
I had no reason to think they'd allow me to live.
Taking a deep breath, I let the air coat the window in an opaque cloud. Lifting a finger, I started to write a name. Cece. My little sister. My sweet, long dead sister.
Shaking myself, I shut my eyes and focused. The memory of the hurt, the pain, the suffering... that would help me. I needed to be reminded of what I was doing. Why I was doing it.
My reason for living was to get revenge. It was all that mattered.
Nothing should distract me from my purpose—finding that man and seeing the light fade from his eyes.
Between my bitter need for revenge and the cold, sobering fact Kite and Jacob might snuff me out when this is over... I should find it easier to resist them both. My smile was wry. But here I am, constantly battling these stupid fucking feelings.
And they were stupid. Irrational.
Dangerous.
Behind me, I heard a small sound. My intuition prickled sharply. I turned, finding Kite standing in the wide room. His reddish hair glinted in the sunrise, but the light hardly penetrated his coal-black eyes. Eyes that reminded me of my own, but in color, only.
Even if I was out for blood... I was nothing like Kite.
He smiled, tilting his hard jaw and casting a shadow down his throat. He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, and I didn't blame him. It was—all too suddenly—very warm in his apartment.
The knob on his deliciously long neck bobbed when he spoke, voice casual, buttery. “You're up
Marina
––––––––
I 'm falling in love with killers.
Two killers, to be precise. I know; I'm insane for getting into this situation. I've never claimed to be the wielder of great fucking ideas.
They're smooth, dangerous, cunning and capable of whatever they deem necessary.
My two hitmen...
All mine.
Standing in front of the wide window, a place I often found myself loitering, I gazed down on the city. The sun was cresting, coating the sentinel buildings in gold and cherry. It was an hour where nothing should have stirred. Except this was New York, and it never really slept.
Kite's apartment had a view that was worth the price of admission. I'm not talking about actual cash. What that man with his quick smiles and wicked words asked of me was... something else.
Endurance, I mused, trying to make sense of my own thoughts. Spending time here, in his presence, demands that I hold myself together. That I risk crumbling in his energy and electric tension.
Resisting one alluring man was hard enough.
Two of them?
Laughing to myself, I pushed my forehead onto the glass. Kite was enough of an issue, always clouding my thoughts and warming my belly. His best friend, Jacob? Just rolling the name through my brain set every cell firing in warning.
As I said, they're killers; I had every reason to react viscerally to their presence. But it wasn't just that. Lord, if it could have been just that.
Rubbing my lower leg, I winced. There was a dark bruise beneath my jeans, left there from our recent foray in Upstate New York. The two men had suggested we play paintball, insisted it'd be both fun—and good for my training.
Sorry, training; I should explain that. You see, while it's clear I'm not exactly risk averse, I had a very good reason for spending so much time—sleeping in the same apartment, even—with these talented hunters.
They were murderers... and I needed someone dead.
See? Simple.
All I want is revenge for her. For my whole family. After I got that, I didn't care what happened to me. I knew the awful secret about Kite and Jacob, they were contract killers. That knowledge, given to the authorities, would be their undoing.
I had one safety net; a letter I'd locked away in the bank containing their info, explaining who they were in case something happened to me. It was essentially blackmail to guarantee they helped me.
But once I killed the monster responsible for everything, then handed them that letter as I'd promised?
I had no reason to think they'd allow me to live.
Taking a deep breath, I let the air coat the window in an opaque cloud. Lifting a finger, I started to write a name. Cece. My little sister. My sweet, long dead sister.
Shaking myself, I shut my eyes and focused. The memory of the hurt, the pain, the suffering... that would help me. I needed to be reminded of what I was doing. Why I was doing it.
My reason for living was to get revenge. It was all that mattered.
Nothing should distract me from my purpose—finding that man and seeing the light fade from his eyes.
Between my bitter need for revenge and the cold, sobering fact Kite and Jacob might snuff me out when this is over... I should find it easier to resist them both. My smile was wry. But here I am, constantly battling these stupid fucking feelings.
And they were stupid. Irrational.
Dangerous.
Behind me, I heard a small sound. My intuition prickled sharply. I turned, finding Kite standing in the wide room. His reddish hair glinted in the sunrise, but the light hardly penetrated his coal-black eyes. Eyes that reminded me of my own, but in color, only.
Even if I was out for blood... I was nothing like Kite.
He smiled, tilting his hard jaw and casting a shadow down his throat. He was wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, and I didn't blame him. It was—all too suddenly—very warm in his apartment.
The knob on his deliciously long neck bobbed when he spoke, voice casual, buttery. “You're up
Similar Books
