Roma
“You won’t shoot me,” I say, as Felicity points the gun straight at my head.
Events are battering me, throwing me around, clawing thick nails over my skin. First Bear, my mentor, my adopted father, comes back from the dead. And then I find that Felicity has stolen a gun and knocked out the guard, probably shoved him in the cupboard at the end of the hallway. I’ve got to say, I’m proud of her for that. Damn proud. The fight in her never stops being surprising. And now Felicity, the woman I love, is pointing a pistol at my head.
I wait. Judging the distance between her and the fact that Felicity isn’t a hardened killer, I reckon I could get to her before the shot pops off, but I won’t. I won’t shock-and-awe her. I won’t cause her any more pain and stress than I already have.
Her lips tremble, her cheeks bright red. Then she swings the gun away from me and at her own head.
I let out a gasp and hold my hands out toward her.
“Maybe not,” she growls. “But I won’t be used as bait. Come any closer and I’ll blow my own fucking brains out!”
“Felicity,” I say, taking a step forward. “Don’t do this. What the hell are you doing?”
“I won’t let him use me, Roma,” she says. Her voice is suddenly firmer, more determined. That’s scarier than anything. It really sounds like she’ll pull the trigger if it comes to it.
I take baby steps forward, palms raised flat toward her in a sign of peace. “Listen to me, Felicity,” I say. “Please, just listen to me.” I’m unable to stop my voice from cracking. It’s difficult to know just how much you love somebody until you’re about to lose them, and seeing that gun pointed at her head, I realize I love her more than I ever counted on.
“Listen to you?” she spits. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I love you!” I roar, the emotion tearing through me. “Don’t you get it? I. Love. You.”
She blinks, studying me closely, as though I have just spoken a foreign language. Then the words register and she shakes her head softly. “Don’t say that,” she says. “Don’t you dare say that, Roma. Not after everything. You made me feel something for you, Roma. You made me feel something I’ve never felt before and then . . . and then . . .”
“I love you,” I repeat. “The kiss, the sex, the laughter, the closeness . . . all of it. That wasn’t a lie. The small moments we shared. Holding each other at night. I’ve never experienced any of that and when I did with you, I was glad I hadn’t before; I was glad you were the first person I ever felt truly close to. Hate me all you like, Felicity, but I love you.”
I see her conviction waver. She glances around the room, as though for an escape. But not from the facility, I realize. She needs an escape from my words. They’re hitting her closely, too close for her to handle. They’re hitting her right in the gut and she won’t be able to keep her determination iron-strong for much longer.
“You don’t love me,” she whispers.
“I do,” I shoot back without pause. “And what’s more, I think you’re falling for me.”
I step forward again, a big pace, so now I’m right up close to her, so close that I can smell the heat and sweat of her, smell the adrenaline. It’s the smell of a woman who wants to survive.
I reach forward and take the barrel of the gun in my hand, direct it to the floor where it can’t do her any harm. Then, softly, I pull it away from her. Her fingers go limp and she lets me take it. She looks up at me with trembling lips and red eyes.
“How can you say you love me after . . .”
I drop the gun on the floor, place my hands on her shoulders, and lean forward. I’m hungry for her. My body screams out for her. I never dreamed I’d need anybody before, never dreamed a hitman could need anybody. But I need her and there’s no denying it.
She looks into my face. It’s like there’s a battle being fought behind her glittering green eyes. Lust versus hate, and as I watch, lust wins.
I lean down and kiss her on the lips.