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“You can drop the broody bullshit now,” he snapped. “I’ve seen behind the curtain.”
“Curtain?” I whipped around, advancing on him. “Another fucking Communist joke?”
He held his ground, brows furrowed. “What? No. Wizard of Oz.” I stopped short and he flinched, resuming his glare a second later. “If this thing is going to work between us, we need some fucking ground rules. For starters, you don’t get to hit me anymore. Understood?”
“There is no thing.” I turned away and stalked back to the bed, grabbing my pants off the ground.
“Pretty sure that wasn’t the deal.”
“I have the key. You’re free. Deal is done.” I pulled my shirt on and tucked it in roughly before shoving my holsters back into place. Yanking my suit jacket on to hide them, I marched toward the door.
“Deal isnotdone.” Roan stepped in front of me, blocking my exit. I could have moved him, one way or the other, but I kept my hands to myself by clenching them at my sides.
“Move.”
He crossed his arms over his bare chest, still glistening from the shower. “No.”
“You think you can stop me from leaving?”
“I don’t know why you’re leaving to begin with. One minute you’re all over me and the next you’re back to being a dick.”
Why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn? “Get the fuck out of my way.”
“Rule two, you don’t get to bark orders at me anymore.”
“Fuck you and fuck your rules. I’m leaving. Now.”
“Sucks being trapped somewhere, huh? Lucky you, you’re not stuffed in a fucking dog crate or handcuffed to a bed.”
I matched his scathing glare. “Unless you want to go back to the fucking dog crate, get out of my way.”
“Not until you tell me what the fuck your problem is. We agreed — I’d help you get what you need out of the vault and you put the fear of God into my dad. And now you’re, what? Up and leaving without having some sort of a plan?”
“The plan? You want to know the plan? The plan is to walk into that bank, open that fucking box, and get what my boss wants. Then I’m going to find someone who looks like you and put a bullet in their head.Thatis the plan. Happy?”
“No!” He stared at me, aghast. “You can’t just kill someone because they look like me.”
I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re so naive.”
“Enlighten me, then. Please. Tell me why I should be perfectly ok with you running off to kill someone.”
“Because it’s what I do.”
“Not good enough.”
My fists clenched so hard the bones felt like they were about to snap. “Someone has to die. That’s how it goes. So it will either be you or someone who looks like you.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
His optimism was cute. Misplaced, but cute. So very American of him. “It does,” I said quietly.
The lines of his face softened, his shoulders drooping. “Are you going to come back?”
I swallowed and stared at the door behind his head. I couldn’t look at the sadness replacing his anger. He knew the answer the moment he asked the question.
“Stay away from your father,” I said, still not looking at him. “He’s not a good man and he will not protect you when people come for him.”
“Are you the one coming for him?”
