The Accidental Assassin by Nichole Chase Page A

When he turned to look back at me, he had already managed to school his features back to normal.
    “I’m scared.” I whispered the words. I’d never felt so alone and frightened. “For just a little while I’d let myself forget. Forget that everyone wanted me dead for some reason. I picked out a book to read.”
    “I’m not going to let them hurt you.” He leaned closer, his eyes intense. “Do you trust me?”
    I thought about it. Really thought about it. Did I trust Owen? I did. I didn’t know why, but I trusted him. And I was probably a giant idiot for it. But…he had come back for me. He hadn’t led the witch hunters to the little shop. He’d been by my side every step of the way.
    “Yes.” I let the word out on an exhale.
    “Good. That’s good.” He pulled away from me and opened the car door. I hadn’t realized we’d gotten back to our stolen ride. “We need to get going.”
    I didn’t talk on the way back to his safe house. I was too shaken up to hold an intelligent conversation. Every muscle in my body felt like jelly and my head throbbed.
    At the safe house, Owen insisted on carrying all of the bags himself. I busied myself in the kitchen, putting up the new groceries and heating more soup. It was almost dark and we hadn’t eaten since our late breakfast.
    Owen made a fire and we sat on the floor eating our soup and watching the flames. It would’ve been peaceful if I didn’t jump at every noise that seemed out of the ordinary.
    “I’m sorry for freaking out,” I sighed.
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    My mind rolled over things and I tried to make sense of it all. One thing was certain: I needed to make some decisions. If I was going to trust Owen, I needed to trust him. If he was going to give me up, then I wouldn’t be able to stop him. I didn’t know much self-defense and wasn’t sure I could hit anything with a pistol. It had been years since I’d fired a gun.
    But despite the unusual way that we had met, I liked Owen. Not because of the way he looked with firelight twinkling in his eyes. Well, not just because of that. But because of the way he had looked at Mrs. Abernathy, the way he puttered around this old house, and had gone out of his way to fluff my pillows. There were more sides to him than even he realized.
    I also needed to get in touch with Tess. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it, but it needed to happen soon. No one else would be worried about me, but I knew that Tess would search until she figured out where I was. Or until something happened to her in the process. But I couldn’t afford to think that way.
    I leaned back against the couch and set my bowl on the table. The soup had been good, and I felt warmed from the inside and out. I closed my eyes and tried to figure out how I was going to get out of all this mess.

 

     
     
    I WOKE ON the couch, a blanket tucked around me, and tried to figure out how I’d gotten up there. Tapping drew my attention to floor at the foot of the couch. Owen was leaned back against the sofa, the keyboard in his lap. His eyebrows were drawn together and I watched as he frowned at the screen.
    Worry was etched across his tight jaw and I wondered what had him so upset. Even when we were running from the people shooting at us, he had seemed so calm and in control. He bent over the keyboard and his hair fell across his forehead, obscuring his eyes. His fingers tapped furiously across the keys and he blew out a deep breath before leaning back and dragging a hand through his hair. I could just barely make out the screen, but I saw my picture with a news station logo plastered in the corner.
    Instead of freaking out the way I had the night before, I felt oddly resigned. I should have been worried, scared, and confused; instead I just wanted everything to be over.
    “If you tell me how to get there, I’ll turn myself in to the police.”
    His head jerked in my direction and I noted the growth of stubble along his jaw line and the