Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly. “There are the usual questions. Why am I an assassin? How did I get into it? How many people have I killed?”
Another nervous chuckle bursts from me, and I quickly shake my head. “Who was that man?”
“Rusnak. He’s also an assassin, but there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“If you say so,” I whisper. Sucking in a deep breath, I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around my shins. Giving him a sheepish smile, I ask, “How did you become one?”
Max glances down at his linked hands as he answers, “When I met my best friend, he introduced me to a different side of the world.” Shaking his head, he lifts his eyes to me again. “It’s something I’m really good at, and it felt natural.”
My eyes widen. “Killing people feels natural to you?”
Max lets out a deep breath. “I don’t consider my targets people.”
“But they are,” I argue.
He thinks for a moment before he replies, “Let me rephrase that. They're not innocent.” Gesturing at me, he continues, “I don’t go around killing people like you. My targets are mostly criminals.”
My eyebrow darts up. “Mostly?”
“There’s the rare occasion when I take out a businessman.”
His words make a tremor ripple through my body. “Like my father?”
Max keeps quiet for a moment before he answers, “I don’t kill politicians. It’s too messy.” He seems to think about something, then he admits, “Only once did I shoot an innocent person, but it was an accident, and it’s something I regret deeply. Luckily, the person survived.”
It comforts me to hear that he can feel remorse for the mistake he made. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, my eyes jumping over Max. “Do we go on as normal?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“And you?” I ask while freeing my legs. “What do you want?”
Max stares at me for a long moment until I start to feel like a caged bird.
“What I want doesn’t matter. As long as you trust I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, we’re good.”
It feels like there’s a magnetic force coming from him, and it makes me lean forward.
I want to get closer.
“Is it weird that I trust you?”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and there’s a flicker of relief in his eyes. “No. It’s not weird.”
My tone is soft and almost intimate as I ask, “Do you trust me?”
Again Max stares at me until every nerve ending in my body tingles.
“Yes.” Just as I feel the relief the word brings, he adds, “You’re a clever woman. You won’t do anything stupid to endanger your life.”
“Is that a threat?”
Max shakes his head. “It’s common sense.”
Chapter 13
Max
The conversation went much smoother than I expected.
Camille didn’t freak out and kept a cool head, which makes me respect her even more. Once again, I’m so fucking thankful I didn’t accidentally kill her all those years ago.
When she asked what I wanted, emotions I’ve never felt before waged war in my chest.
I want her. Even if it’s just for one night.
I want the chance to feel what it’s like to be with such an incredible woman.
But I can’t have her, and I’m sure now that she knows I’m an assassin, anything romantic between us will never be an option.
Contrary to popular belief, being an assassin doesn’t get you laid. Most women distance themselves from danger and don’t get into bed with it.
My eyes drift over her face, still searching for any sign she’s going to freak out.
She fidgets, and unable to sit still, she gets up and walks to the kitchen. “Are you hungry? What do you feel like eating?”
I rise to my feet and follow her. She’s clearly nervous, and I hate it. I want her comfortable around me.
“I can make something healthy. Do you eat fish?” she keeps rambling.
I come up behind her, and when she turns around and sees how close I am, she bounces back. “Jesus.” Her hand flies to her chest, covering her heart.
The urge to touch and comfort her almost overwhelms me, but I fist my hands at my sides.
My jaw clenches, and the words come out sounding harsher than I meant. “Don’t be nervous around me.”
Camille nods while taking a step back. She glances around the kitchen, then darts to the fridge. “So, what do you feel like eating?”
You can’t touch her.
“Anything,” I answer, my body burning to move closer to her.
“A tuna salad?” Her head pops into the fridge. “I have salmon.” She takes it out and inspects the packet. “Nope, it expired.”
“Camille,” I say to get her attention because she’s clearly panicking and rambling about food.
“Shoot, I don’t know what to cook. Maybe we can order in?”
“Camille,” I try again, so she’ll look at me.
Shutting the fridge’s door, she heads to the pantry and disappears inside.