The Accidental Assassin
Page 34

“Listen here, buddy. You’re no Brad Pitt.” Stomping across the room, she ripped the blanket back from the bed and crawled into her spot. “Don’t try anything funny.”
“I’ll try to contain my baser urges.” I hit the switch for the light and settled down into my pillow.
Ava fought with her pillow until she had molded it into a shape that suited her. She was on her side facing me. I could just make out her features in the dark and smell the shampoo she had used in the shower. It had been years since I had slept in the same bed as someone else, but with Ava I didn’t worry she would get up and kill me in my sleep.
It was a nice feeling.
“Owen?” Her whisper drew me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for not leaving me.” I could barely make out her words as weariness claimed her.
“You’re welcome.”
COLD AIR CURLED over the skin of my thigh and I snuggled closer to the heat next to me. A soft snore invaded my dreams and I grunted in annoyance. The warm pillow under my head moved, turning me over so I was on my back and immediately yanking me out of my dreams. As my eyes adjusted to the early morning light that poured in around the curtains, Owen rolled into me.
“What the—?” I started to push him away, but his hands closed on my wrists and lifted them above my head.
“It’s been a long time since I woke up next to someone.” His voice sent goosebumps over my skin and I froze. One of his legs rested between mine and every movement made it deliciously clear how much he enjoyed having a bedmate. “I’m not used to it.”
“Wh-why is that?” His lips were so close to mine I couldn’t focus on anything else. Flashes of our kiss from the night before ran through my mind.
“Trust.” He leaned a little closer, his lips almost touching mine. “Can’t sleep next to someone who might kill you.”
“That would be difficult.” I licked my lips and tried to calm my racing heart.
“But not with you, love.” He let go of one of my wrists to run a finger along my jaw. “You’re not going to kill me in my sleep.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It’s in your eyes.” His eyes dipped down to my lips. “The eyes never lie.”
I waited for his kiss, waited for the heat that his fingertips promised.
But it never came. Sighing he rolled off of me and stood up.
“Want to grab breakfast?” He stretched without turning to look at me.
Sitting up, I stared after him, wondering what had happened. I hadn’t been far from begging him to ravage me and he was worried about pancakes and eggs.
“Sure.” I ran a hand through my hair.
“I’m going to hit the shower and then we can head out. I saw a place to get some food on the next block.” He grabbed a shirt from the bag and went straight to the bathroom.
“Well.” I threw the blanket off and stood up. Muttering to myself I went through the bag and found a pair of jeans that looked like they would fit. He had guessed my size better than I’d expected. “Talk about a let-down. All hot and bothered with nothing to show for it. Big bad assassin. Ha.” I slid the pants up and traded my Prince Harry shirt for a black one. It was loose on me, and the v-neck dipped low enough that I worried about the cleavage it exposed. I wondered if he’d chosen it that way on purpose. “Apparently my eyes didn’t say it all, huh?”
I picked up my pistol and stuck it in my pants before pulling the sweater from yesterday over my clothes. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hot today. I needed something to conceal the bulky gun. The thought of getting caught with it made me shudder. An American with no passport, wanted for vehicular homicide, and carrying an illegal firearm—yeah, that would go well for me. So well I’d end up in a cell trading homemade tats for protection.
By the time I heard the shower shut off, I’d gone through all the bags of stuff Owen had bought. He had odd shopping habits. Then again I wasn’t an assassin, so maybe he had a perfectly good reason for purchasing duct tape. Maybe it was for something simple, like repairing a ripped bag, not for holding someone hostage. When the door opened I threw the silver stuff back in the bag and sat down in a chair. He was shirtless and his pants were slung low on his hips, revealing those indentions that made my mouth water.
“You can never have enough of that.” He nodded. “You’d be amazed what you can do with it.”
“Mmm,” I mumbled. I couldn’t have agreed more.
And then I realized he was talking about the duct tape. Right. I hoped he couldn’t see how flushed my cheeks were. Time to move the conversation along.
“I saw a guy on TV make a cup out of it once. A survival show where he could only take one thing with him, and that’s what he chose.” I rested my arms on the table, trying to snap myself out of the inconvenient attraction I felt. “Never really thought I’d need to know how to do that, but who knows now?”
“If you need a cup made from tape, then we’ll have bigger worries than drinking.” Owen pulled a shirt over his head, and I immediately felt the haze clearing from my brain. Disappointment and relief rushed through me as he knelt to open the black bag he had brought back with him last night. “I’ve brought you another pistol. I thought you’d prefer something a little smaller than the forty-five you’re carrying now.”
“Will it be easier to conceal?” I stood up and pulled the gun from my pants.