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My chin lifts in defiance. “I don’t pretend to know anything about you.”
“Please. Sit with me.” He presses his forehead to mine, his hand in my hair once more, settling on the back of my head. “Just listen to what I have to say.”
“You kissed me and drugged me. Why would I be that stupid again?”
“I had no time to explain,” he says. “We were in imminent danger.”
I shove on his chest and pull back. “Which is why you took the time to kiss me? You are so full of bullshit.”
His eyes meet mine. “It had been too fucking long since I kissed you.”
His voice is low, rasping with emotion that I feel in my chest, and the damn air around us is thick and heavy. He’s sucking me in. He’s dragging me under his spell and to what end? “It won’t work this time. I know who you are and that’s a traitor, a dirty CIA agent, not the investment banker I was supposed to marry. I know what you are. I know what we aren’t.”
“Someone set me up. I had to run. I was a hot target, and you were in protective custody before I could get to you. I made the call that ended this, fixing it so you’d be safe. It was the right decision.”
There’s hope in my chest and that makes me stupid. That makes me angry at me and him. “And now?”
“It’s not over, baby, but you’re no longer safer without me. The dark web had a call for your assassination.”
“The dark web,” I repeat, remembering a case I’d help manage at the firm involving the dark web, aware of just how illicit and real it is. “Because they think I can hurt you? Because they think I know something I don’t know?”
“Because of me, yes. Because you matter to me. Because in my lifetime in the CIA, I’ve never shown any weakness until you. I will not let them hurt you. The only one who dies is anyone who comes after you.”
“Because you’re a killer.”
“I swore to myself and I swear to you that I won’t lie to you again. So, yes, because I’m a killer.”
Chapter five
Ashley
Suddenly, all the anger I’ve felt toward this man bubbles over. “You’re a killer? Is that supposed to scare me or make me feel better? Because honestly Noah or Aaron, or whatever the hell your name is, you’ve taken everything from me. I have nothing left to lose and so I don’t choose fear for my last emotion.”
“Scare you? You’re a smart person, baby. You want a killer protecting you when a killer comes after you.” His hand slides under my hair to my neck, and he drags my mouth to his. “And this time, the killer loves you. You are the only assignment that got personal.”
I shove against him again. “Let me go. Let me go.”
He hesitates, making a frustrated sound, but he lets me twist away from him. “Fuck,” he curses, turning away from me and running a hand through his hair before he turns to face me. “I was on assignment,” he says. “I needed a cover. You were an in, but you became so much more. I don’t get personal, Ashley, but you, you were personal from the moment I met you.” He walks to the couch, pulls his gun from behind his back, sits down, and places it on the table. “It’s loaded. Take it.” He looks at me. “But don’t shoot me until I make sure you’re safe.”
I’m angry again. I’m so many things I can’t name right now, and adrenaline drives me forward. I round the coffee table and stand across from him. “Why would a self-proclaimed killer protect me?”
“Because I love you, and I don’t love anyone. My job might have been a lie, but nothing else between us was.”
I hug myself. I want to believe him. My God, I so want to believe him. I want to just be with him, but how can I? “The stories they told me. The stories—”
“Lies. I did not betray my country. I gave everything for my country. I swore I would never love for my country. And I didn’t until you. Take the gun. If it will make you feel safer, take the gun.”
“I don’t want the fucking gun. I want you to stop lying to me.”
“I did. The minute I told you I was a killer.”
“Stop saying that.” I pick up the gun and point it at him. “Stop saying that!”
He stands now and walks around the coffee table. He’s so damn big, so damn agile, but I don’t run. I’m done running. I’m here. It’s not like I can just walk out the door unless I shoot him. We turn to face each other, and I again point the gun at him. He steps closer, pressing the gun to his chest as he had at my apartment. “I was, I am, an assassin for the CIA, and I never missed a target. The people who will come for you, who are coming for us, are my equals. I am what stands between you and them.” He reaches down and covers the gun with his hand, but he doesn’t try and take it. “If I was going to kill you, you’d be dead, so decide now: are you going to live with me or die without me? Because that’s what this comes down to.”
I stare at him, searching his handsome face, looking into those dark brown eyes, and I believe him. I believe him because I always sensed this in him. I knew. I’m a smart person who knew, and yet, I stayed with him, I craved him. I loved him. I let go of the gun. “What now?”
He sets the gun on the table, and the next thing I know, he’s dragging me to him, his hand sliding to cup my neck. “This,” he rasps softly.
