I FUCKIN’ KISSED HER. I hadn’t planned on it . . . well, not yet at least, but seeing her inhale my scent on my shirt . . . that snapped my control. It was fuckin’ hot as hell.
I heard two sets of footsteps start up the stairs and quickly shoved Max back against the wall. I put my finger to my lips then gestured for her to stay, and crept down a few steps to peer over the railing.
I glanced back at Max to make certain she was following my instructions, because I was fast realizing that underneath the submissive shell she hid behind, lay defiance. I hadn’t expected it until she shot me. Now that was one fuck of a surprise. I didn’t think she’d have the guts, but having watched her for the last six months between jobs, I knew she was capable of handling a weapon. I just didn’t expect her to use one on me.
She’d trembled when I kissed her and those lips, that mouth had been warm and pliable beneath mine. Jesus, it was better than I’d imagined and I imagine a fuck of a lot. The thing was this was now a job. She was a job. I didn’t want it to be. Fuck, it was the worst fucked-up job ever, but there was no way in hell any other fucker was getting near her.
It had to be me.
Jesus Christ, I wanted to fuck the girl I was hired to kill.
Yeah, well, I may not get the chance to do either if we didn’t get out of here. I threw my legs over the railing and leapt, landing hard on top of one guy and taking him down. The shooting pain in my thigh from the bullet wound made my vision go black for a second and I shook my head trying to clear it.
I heard movement in front of me and kicked out with my good leg and bashed the other guy in the chest, sending him rolling down the stairs like a beach ball that popped and deflated at the bottom as he lay on his stomach stunned for a second.
I flipped over, punched the guy in the throat and he dropped the gun to clutch at his neck with both hands, gasping for air. Still straddling him, I half-turned and threw my knife at the guy at the bottom of the stairs who was now on his feet, gun pointed at me. My knife embedded in his chest, but not fast enough as I heard the distinct click.
I rolled to the side as the bullet whizzed past my left ear. I yanked his buddy up in front of me as the gun continued to go off. The harsh impact of the bullets hitting the body caused it to jerk several times. Stupid bastard. I tossed the body forward when he was out of clips and it tumbled down the stairs and hit the asshole and the two of them landed in a heap.
When I reached them, the living guy was attempting to get free of his dead buddy as I stood over top. “Need some help?” I hauled the dead guy off him. Then before he had a chance to go for his knife in his boot, I landed a hard blow with my fist to his chest wound where my knife had been. “Who hired you?”
The guy coughed up blood and it splattered my chest in a fine mist. When he caught his breath, he lifted his head and met my eyes. “Fuck you.” Then he had the balls to spit in my face.
Too bad I had bigger ones.
I sliced my knife across his throat and watched as his narrowed eyes widened and he gurgled as blood sprayed from his neck. I had no time for bullshit and the asshole wasn’t going to tell me anything. Of course, that might have changed if I took him with us then tortured him for a while. But despite what I did for a living, torture wasn’t my thing and those who’d heard of me knew that.
No fucking around. Tell me what I want or die. Saved me a hell of a lot of wasted time ripping fingernails off and pulling teeth.
I heard her come up behind me, and then smelled the delicious scent of her coconut shampoo. Jesus, I didn’t like the fact I was thinking about kissing her again with two dead bodies at my feet and several more men who no doubt heard the gunshots and were going to be on us any moment.
I should be thinking about getting the fuck out of here. I may like to fuck women, but my job came first. Always. And this job was pretty damn important because Max had something I wanted. That was if I could keep her alive and out of the hands of the guy who was after her. If he got too close, I’d have no choice . . . I’d have to kill her.
That was why they picked me. I was the only Scar who’d kill her if need be. I wasn’t proud of it. Fuck, I never thought about the jobs I did and who I had to kill. They were a means to an end except my end never came. I couldn’t get out from under the storm that brewed inside me. Trapped in a vicious circle of my family’s haunting grief and my guilt eating away at my insides.
“Jasper?”
I stiffened then glanced at the girl I’d been stalking for months. At first, I played it off as lust, and being the sick bastard I was, I wanted to break the girl I met in the bathroom. But when I left to go on a job, she fucked with my mind and she was all I could think about. I couldn’t wait to get back and watch her sip her coffee out on the patio or see the sweat drip down her flushed cheeks as she practiced with those kickass circular blades. The worst was slipping in her bedroom at night and having to leave when she began to thrash around and moan.
Her hand touched my arm and I jerked my gaze to her. She was looking down at the bodies. Steady and calm as if she’d seen death regularly. I had the urge to throw her against the wall and kiss her again. I couldn’t help it. It turned me on. She turned me on and it was even worse now I’d tasted the rebellion inside her that was desperate to come out and play.
Jesus, I had to get my shit together. She needed to learn the rules and I had to start thinking of her as a job.
I linked my fingers with hers and then we ran into the kitchen and out the back door. As soon as we were a few feet from the house, I heard the shout above us from the second floor window. “Fuck.” I picked up the pace, my thigh burning as we weaved through the garden. “My bike’s hidden up ahead near the shed.”
Her hand suddenly slipped from mine and I thought she fell; instead, when I stopped and looked back, she was frantically digging in the fuckin’ dirt with her hands.
I froze.
For one second. One fuckin’ second it hit me and I froze, staring at her.
Digging.
Frantic.
On her knees.
The façade slipped and I stumbled back a step. My hand holding my knife trembled and my heart thumped erratically. The memory was raw and harsh like sandpaper rubbing at my mind grinding the image into me over and over again. It was me. It was me searching for Beth.
Weak. I’d been so weak. Not strong enough to save her. Then my parents’ wails . . . bile rose in my throat as I remembered my mom’s fists pummeling my chest, screaming and crying hysterically. It had been Holden who pulled her off me.
Max looked up and our eyes met, but I didn’t really see her. It was Beth being tossed in the grave, the dirt carelessly thrown over her while they laughed.
I couldn’t stop them.
I couldn’t save her.
I couldn’t—
The faint click of the gun cocked fifty feet away snapped me out of it. Jesus Christ, I curled my hand around my knife as the anger blanketed the memory.
“You trying to get me killed, girl? Fuck.” I came up behind her and hauled her up underneath her armpits.
Dirt crumbled from her hands. “My blades. I need my blades.”
Shit. I’d seen her put them here often enough and I saw the look in her eyes every time she took them out. It was power. Need. Desperation all rolled into one. She needed them, just like I needed to kill. Fuck, I’d even jerked off to the image of her in the courtyard wielding her blades.
A twig snapped. Then the distinct sound of a heartbeat—one guy.
I crouched then nudged Max in the arm and chin-lifted to the rose bushes on the right. She pulled a box out of the hole then lifted the lid and grabbed her knives. They reminded me of table saw blades, except these had grips on them.
My first impression of Max that day in the bathroom—a sweet, quiet rabbit scared of her own shadow. That lasted about two seconds when I saw the flash of emotion in her eyes, but it came and went like lightning, and then she was cold and detached.
And I didn’t like it. I liked seeing the defiance she tried to keep locked down; that flash of rebellion blazing in the core of her body. But those scars—and Jesus there were a lot of them—made me want to break her wide open and then heal every single one of them with my kisses.
Fuck. I might have to kill this chick. I have to get a fuckin’ grip.
Max leapt to her feet, a blade in each hand, and damn if my cock didn’t harden.
I frowned. “Try and remember you’re a Healer and don’t do anything stupid.” I grabbed her arm and we started running again, although it was more a jog with my leg slowing me down.
Two guys emerged out of the side door and raced after us, bullets flew past, but I noticed they were aimed low, at our legs so as not to kill Max. I yanked her forward trying to get her in front of me so she was protected when I heard her swift inhale. She staggered, her weight pulling me to a stop as she fell to her knees.
Her hand went to her side and came away covered in blood.
“Fuck.” I picked her up in one swoop and dove behind the shed for cover. I put her down then crouched and lifted her t-shirt to look at how bad it was. She couldn’t die. I needed her alive. I tried to convince myself it was because of the payment if I kept her alive, which was much more lucrative than my payment if I was forced to kill her. But I knew it was something else. Something dangerous to feel. Something I didn’t let in because of shit just like this.
The wound was bleeding, but the bullet had nicked her and gone right through. I yanked the shirt down, grabbed her hand and pressed it to her side—hard. I knew it must have fuckin’ hurt, but she didn’t react to it. Actually, she looked calm for a chick who’d just been shot.
“Stay here.” I got to my feet and then took off after the assholes. I enjoyed the odd cat and mouse game, but we’d fucked around too long and I was betting these guys were calling in reinforcements. Humans were an easy kill, vampires a fuck of a lot harder, but from what Adrian had told me, this was one of our own, a Scar who was after Max and he had the ability to Trace. If he traced here before we got the fuck out, I’d be out of a deal and more than likely my life.
I calmed my breathing as I heard them approach. I slipped my gun into my belt and took out my knives. I calmly waited, using my ability to focus on their movements. I took them both out within seconds of one another. Clean. Calm. And only a mild protest from one guy as he went down.
I was good at what I did. That was why I did it. I didn’t give a fuck as to why I was hired for a job. I did what I was paid to do and walked away. It was simple. My life was simple. I kept it that way.
Until Max. Then simple became complicated because I’d been unable to forget the image of her as she stood half-naked against the wall. Her silky white skin moist and heated from the shower; droplets trickling down the curve of her neck; nothing between us except a white towel. I saw the scars weaving across her skin and rage had burned inside me at whoever had done that to her. I wanted to rip them apart for even touching her.
I couldn’t forget Max no matter what I did. I’d tried to stay clear of Xamien’s, but I kept coming back, craving even just a glimpse of her. I fuckin’ stalked her. For weeks I watched her until I was needed for a job, but then . . . then I was back. I always fuckin’ came back.
The way she quietly moved through the gardens, her subtle movements like a rose petal floating on a gentle breeze. Quiet, subtle, beautiful. But Max had thorns. She just kept them hidden; at least she thought she did.
And then there were the nights I heard her screams from the nightmares. I had the overwhelming urge to say fuck it and run to her, hold her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t care. I had to stop caring. Those were the nights I left and found something to kill.
Xamien found out I was there, lingering like a black shadow on the outskirts of his property. He only contacted me once telepathically, asking me what the hell I was doing. I left that day and didn’t come back for a month. And when I did it was after Adrian’s call about the job. The one I refused at first and hung up on him.
Then the ice cold feeling intensified as I thought about what he was asking and I knew it had to be me. My usual job was killing and I did it well. Protecting a girl I obsessed about . . . one I’d have to kill if there was a chance the Scar could take her . . . but I’d rather it be me. There was no way in hell I was letting anyone else near her.
If shit went bad, then she’d die and so would my unhealthy obsession with it. Kind of a win-win.
But the longer I watched her the more I wanted to see what was beneath the hard outer shell she hid behind. I wanted to set her free, crack the seal and hear it hiss and bubble and scream.
Everything about this was fucked. I knew it, but there was a chance I could get what I needed and walk away from this—from her.
I ran back to the shed where I left Max one minute ago, expecting to find her moaning in pain, but I should’ve known better—she was fuckin’ gone.
“Jesus.” I ran for my bike, well, limped because my fuckin’ leg hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. I stopped when I saw her and nearly blew my load. She was sitting astride my bike looking for the keys. I did wonder if I’d left them in the ignition if she would’ve taken off without me.
She looked up and I pulled them out of my pocket and dangled them. I imagined her smiling at me—she wasn’t and I realized this chick never smiled. I’d watched her sporadically for months and never heard her laugh or seen her smile. And that bothered the fuck out of me.
I noticed her blades were tucked in my leather satchel on the side of the bike and couldn’t help but be a little impressed. And damn her sitting astride my bike—a fuckin’ angel.
Thing was I bet she didn’t have much of an angel in her anymore. According to Adrian, who was responsible for finding me most of my jobs and just as corrupt as me, maybe worse, had said Xamien found her chained in a bedroom on the floor when she was sixteen. It took a year before she spoke and told Xamien her name was Max. Whoever had taken this chick as a child had sucked out any happiness and encased her in stone. Well, I was capable of chiseling through stone. You just needed to know how to handle the fuckin’ chisel.
“I’m thinking I should’ve ripped that towel off six months ago.” No, I knew I should’ve. I moved in and noticed her stiffen. “Too bad you put a bullet in my leg that is starting to fuckin’ hurt like hell; otherwise, I’d go kill the rest of those fuckers then sink my cock inside you, right here on top of my bike.”
I expected some kind of reaction; that was what I pushed for in her. But Max merely looked at me with those blank eyes, her hand pressed to her side. Looked like I’d have to work a little to sink between her legs. Because that was what this was. A lusty obsession with a girl I shouldn’t take, but I was good at doing the wrong thing. Had done the wrong thing my entire life, now I just accepted it and didn’t make excuses for who I was.
“Slide back, sunshine.” I focused my hearing ability and heard men running through the kitchen toward the back door.
She didn’t hesitate. I liked that. It was me who had trouble when I got on then had to tug her forward on the leather seat so her pelvis was snug against my ass. I grit my teeth as my cock strained against my pants. “Arms.”
When she didn’t put her arms around my waist, I was going to make her when two guys came barreling around the side of the shed. I kicked the bike into gear and skidded down the driveway.
They didn’t shoot and I knew why—I wasn’t the only one who wanted Max to live.