Page 78 of The Company

“I mean, everything that happened today, James. I killed a man. You admitted to killing all the other assassins. My brother leaving cryptic messages. Who’s this message for? Me? I guessed that the first one was for me, but it was in your house and that one might’ve come from the guy I killed. So maybe it was for you?” She tips her head back so she can look me in the eyes. “Do you know my brother?”

“I’ve met him, of course. I’ve seen him every year on your birthday. So yeah, I know him. But this morning’s message was clearly not him. Why would he kidnap Sasha?”

“Why seems to be the only question we are able to ask right now. Who do you work for?”

“I told you, I work for me. Who do you work for?” I counter.

“I work for me too, I guess. And Sasha seems to work for whoever she’s with. So how do we know whose side we’re on?”

I swipe a few stray strands of hair off her forehead. “Trust me. I know what’s best. If you just trust me, Harper, it will be OK.” I lean down and kiss her on the nose. “You and me, Harper, we’re in this together. I’m the only one you should always trust. No matter what’s happening. I’m the one you look to. Because everything I’m doing is for you and me. Not just you, not just me. But both of us.”

“But I don’t even know you, James. Trust is something you earn. And I’m not sure you’ve earned that kind of trust. I think you’re hot. And sex with you is something I want to get used to. But back under the pier, that first day you came to me, you said you didn’t just want to fuck me, you wanted to know me. And so far you’ve done a pretty shitty job at getting to know me. All you really did was fuck me. In fact, you know nothing about me outside of those one-day birthday trips. And I know even less about you. So which one is it?” She sits up and turns around, tucking her feet underneath her so she can be eye level with me. “You can’t have it both ways. Either you want something convenient and fast filled with sex and that’s it. Or you want something meaningful and you earn the trust that comes with it.”

She stops talking and I’m still playing her words over in my mind. It comes across as a hesitation, so she makes to get up. But my brain kicks in before her feet find the floor and I pull her back onto my chest. “What do you want to know about me? I’ll tell you anything you want.”

She thinks for a moment and I imagine every horrible question she can possibly dream up.

What did it feel like to kill the first time?

Why did it take them so long to rescue you when you were captured?

Do you think your parents love you?

Why didn’t they fight harder to keep you safe from the Company?

Do you miss your brother?

What happened to your sister?

I draw in a breath, running all the ways in which I’ll have to lie to her when these questions are asked. But all of that’s unnecessary. Because her question finally comes out. And everything about it throws me off my game.