Page 66 of Targeted By Desire

Scoffing, I shook my head, freeing myself of his grasp. “Don’t pretend to empathize with me. ”

“I’m not pretending.”

The conviction in his voice made me look at him again.

“Simone, I’ve been watching you for the past two - almost three months now. I know you have trouble sleeping sometimes because your mind doesn’t stop running. I know you’re still carrying your grief on your back even though sometimes it’s killing you. I know once you set your mind on something, you’re not giving up until you’ve achieved it. You are strong, intelligent and resilient. Anyone who can’t see that is a damn fool.” He reached for the ends of my mask. Cautiously, he pulled it away, revealing the tiny streaks running down my face. “I see you,” he repeated. “And you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege of laying eyes on.”

His words left me with none. I didn’t know there was anything I could say in response to that. No man has ever spoken so gently and admirably of me. Not even behind closed doors.

I wished I could see whatever he did as he stared at me now. Beyond the tears. Beyond this dress. Beyond the pain.

But, above all, I wanted to see him as well. Him and all he was hiding in the shadows he lived in.

I reached for his mask, and he flinched backwards as if I were about to deliver a blow. “Please,” I whispered.

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t move away as my fingers inched for his mask again. He was stiff as a board as I grasped the edge near his ear and slid it off of his face.

Scars caught my eyes first. They ran like waterfalls across his face, streaming across his umber brown in all different directions, shapes, and lengths. The one slicing through his eyebrow down through his eye and stopping at his cheek was the most prominent.

Yet, they didn’t take away from the beauty of his sharp jawline and almond-shaped eyes.

I raised my hand again, cautiously setting it on his cheek. My thumb trailed over one of the scars on his cheek, rough beneath my skin and packed with a story I wanted to hear. “Wow,” I whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

His brows twitched, a crack in the apathetic, almost emotionless expression on his face. He cupped his hand over my wrist. For a moment, I thought he was going to try to pull it away. Instead, he pressed my palm harder against his skin.

His eyes bounced between mine, their walls falling with every flick. Behind them were waves of misery and longing and pain - each massive and all-consuming. All I wanted to do was put myself between them and him. Return the favor he’d done for me and save him from the demons haunting his own dreams.

His gaze lowered to my lips and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

Scooting closer, I slid my hand across his face and onto the back of his neck. I added some pressure in silent encouragement.

He followed the call, slowly leaning forward.

I tilted my head up to meet him halfway.

Our lips brushed against each other, the touch lighter than a feather.

Then, a blinding spotlight flashed onto us and the harsh volume of a megaphone sliced through the silence.

“FBI!” A voice I knew all too well yelled. “Don’t move!”

THE ASSASSIN

What. The. Fuck.

I could only stare as the agents scurried out of the dark corners of the garden like rats. Bulletproof vests hugged their torsos, and each one of their cocked guns were pointed at my head.

“Put your hands up,” the voice behind the megaphone shouted. “Step away from the girl.”

My eyes darted to Simone. “Did you set me up?” I hissed, unable to keep the thought inside.

Simone’s eyes darted from the army of agents to me. She coiled backward from the rage burning in my gaze. “Mateo, I-“

The plethora of footsteps against the grass cut her off. The swarm of agents closed their circle around us, confining us now to the bench.

One standing closest to Simone grabbed her arm and hoisted her up out of her seat. “Hey!” She yelled, wriggling in this grasp.

Behind me, agents grabbed my arms and shoved me down. I gritted my teeth as my face slammed against the cold stone.