19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Kathleen hated waking—or she usually did, anyway. This time was different for multiple reasons. Her limbs were boneless with utter relaxation rather than tensed from the familiar nightmare that often plagued her sleep. She suspected the lack of nightmares had a great deal to do with the warm body she was sprawled over.
Even before she opened her eyes, she knew who it was. Finn had a distinct scent—gun oil with a masculine scent that made her want to curl into him even tighter. She resisted the urge, though, for fear of waking him and destroying this moment.
Instead, Kathleen watched the steady rise and fall of his chest where her hand rested.
Naturally, her mind drifted to the kiss they had shared. It had been instinct at first. Finn had looked so lost, his eyes so full of sadness, that she had wanted to comfort him. The moment their lips touched, though, she’d felt an undeniable flutter in her stomach. It felt silly, especially paired with his lack of reaction, and she thought she had misread the situation.
Until he kissed her back…
Even now, the memory of the kiss, the heat of his tongue sliding deliciously over hers, caused a rush of desire and adrenalin to spike through her blood like an awakening jolt.
So much for sleeping in.
Kathleen sat up, trying not to wake him. His hand was still curled over her hip, and she grasped his fingers, easing his hand away from her hip, feeling the twitch of his fingers as they tried to clasp hers. She thought him awake and glanced at his face.
Finn Kingsley almost appeared like a different person when he was asleep. There was no tension in his expression; the creases of skin around his sharp gaze were smooth, and his long hair no longer obscured his handsome features. The slight stubble Kathleen felt at his jaw yesterday was now a visible five o’clock shadow, and she wanted to run her fingers over it again, to lean forward and kiss his lips, to see his blue eyes open…
Get a grip, Harper.
Kathleen wiggled her way down the bed, inch by inch. She was determined to let him sleep. Finn’s casual admission that they changed us gave her another chill. She would find out who this Command group was—and she would burn them to the ground if she had to.
She opened drawers and took out fresh clothes, easing the bathroom door closed to wash up and get changed. Thankfully, Kathleen had been quiet enough that a glance toward the bed told her Finn was still asleep as she crept past.
In the kitchen, her perusal of the fridge proved no less sad than it had the evening before. She had never had to entertain guests here before—let alone provide breakfast for someone. She normally settled for coffee.
She had gotten as far as picking up her purse when she caught movement at the corner of her eye. Finn was standing in the bedroom’s doorway, utterly alert, staring at her.
Kathleen’s stomach dropped as she took in his expression. The Hound was back. She stayed still as he stalked toward her. As he neared, the look in his eyes changed—no longer hard and distant. No, it was full of something that fluttered in her gut and created a tingle between her legs.
His gaze was full of desire.
She opened her mouth, but before she could voice a single syllable, his lips pressed over hers with a searing heat. Any thoughts of explaining fled from Kathleen’s mind. His hand wrapped around her lower back, pressing her into him, and an embarrassing noise of encouragement slipped from her lips as he deepened the kiss.
Finn’s fingers dug into her back even as his tongue pressed into her mouth. For a man who barely reacted the first time she’d kissed him, he had certainly stepped up his game. Kathleen’s fingers twitched, and she felt her purse slip from them.
Finn moved unbelievably fast. One moment, his fingers were pressed tightly into her back. The next, he was snatching her purse out of the air before it hit the ground.
Kathleen had experienced his speed twice before, but this was the first time she had seen it. No wonder she hadn’t been able to fight him. Was this something else Command had done to him?
Finn’s eyes narrowed as he pulled back from her. She wanted to protest the distance, but his expression stilled the thought. “Where were you going?”
Kathleen didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was the type of protectiveness that instinctively put her on edge. She had long ago learned to protect herself. She didn’t need someone to do it for her. She reached out to claim her purse from him, turning back to find her keys.
“Getting breakfast,” she said.
She could hear him pacing behind her, following closely. His voice was practically in her ear as she retrieved her keys from the coffee table.
“It’s not safe for you,” he said.
“I ran them off last night.”
“Not them,” Finn said, dismissive. “Command. We need to move.”
The tone of his voice made Kathleen rethink the reactive response she wanted to give. Most of his expression was the protective air she had reacted to, but that wasn’t the whole of it. Underneath, there was a tight-jawed anger borne of apprehension. It took the wind out of her stubbornness.
She lifted her hands in supplication. “I don’t even know who they are. If we go, will you tell me about them?”
Finn’s gaze remained steady on hers, but the twitch of his cheeks suggested he was fiercely debating with himself. While he ruminated, she wished she’d put on coffee after all.
Finn’s eyes dropped. His fingers curled and uncurled. “Grab your bag. We can talk while we’re on the move.”
He was just as stubborn as Kathleen was—she recognized the set of his expression. She breathed out slowly. “Okay. Give me a moment.”
In the bedroom, she cracked the window just wide enough for the cat, grabbed the bag she had packed, and joined him at the door.
Finn was silent as they rode down the elevator, doing something on his phone. She was relieved to see her Mustang. Before she touched the driver’s door, his hand clasped over her wrist, halting the movement.
“No way,” Kathleen said. “My car. I drive.”
“Too showy,” he countered. “I have a car.”
His head jerked across the garage toward a boring white sedan.
With a last, apologetic look at the Mustang, she moved to the driver's side of the sedan, her expectant gaze on Finn.
Finn’s jaw shifted as he unlocked the car. Kathleen threw the bag into the back and slid behind the wheel. She waited until Finn settled next to her before she pulled into traffic.
She missed the adrenaline rush of driving her Mustang. Absent both that and her morning coffee, she was feeling particularly grumpy. As if sensing her mood, Finn stayed silent, half-turned in his seat, keeping a close eye on the surrounding traffic. Though his eyes narrowed, he didn't protest when she pulled into a drive-through and ordered coffee and pastries, handing both to him as she navigated her way to the basement parking garage of their destination.
The studio apartment on 5th was clean, if small. It was one of many locations in which a now-dead drug runner had been hiding stacks of cash. The cash was gone, and the property had remained untouched for months while everything moved through the legal system. There was a single bed, a kitchenette, and a sectioned-off bathroom with the shower positioned over the bath. Everything was dingy white—the walls, the furniture, the bedspread.
It wasn’t much to look at, but it was a secure location.
Finn stalked around the tiny space, checking the bathroom and the external window, drawing the curtains before he appeared satisfied. Kathleen sat on the bed and sipped her coffee, waiting. Eventually, his pacing study had her sighing.
“Come and sit,” she suggested, patting the bed next to her.
Finn gave her a wordless look, did another visual sweep of the apartment, then finally eased himself onto the bed beside her. Silence settled. Kathleen could hear the sounds of the upstairs neighbors walking around.
“I want to talk. But it’s… hard.” Finn said as his jaw tightened. “He’s in my head.”
“Who is?” Kathleen asked.
“The Handler.” His breath rustled out. “I don’t hear him when I’m with you, though. It’s easier to… think. To feel like myself.”
Finn was seated so close to her that their thighs touched. Kathleen had to twist to look at him. His features were far from the relaxed, wrinkle-free sleep of barely an hour before. She reached out and plucked the bag of pastries from his hands. He yielded it without complaint. She placed it and her cup on the bedside table, then shifted so her back leaned against the wall.
“Put your feet up on the bed and your head here,” Kathleen said as she patted her thighs.
Finn went still. He visibly debated. She could see the consideration in his eyes, the way his gaze flicked to the window and the door. He was doing a threat assessment—one that included Kathleen.
Tension kept his shoulders stiff as he moved, but she said nothing since he was doing as she’d requested. He laid his cheek against her thighs, facing away from her. Slowly, making her fingers visible to him, she lowered her hand to touch his temple. With slow, gentle strokes, Kathleen ran her fingers through his hair, occasionally massaging with little circles of her fingers.
Finn was deadly quiet, and she couldn’t tell from the posture of his body if he was reacting positively or not to it. As time passed, his shoulders relaxed, and he let out an audible sigh. She felt her lips curve upward. It was a small victory, but it felt good.
“I think I was in the army.” Finn’s voice was soft at first, so much so that Kathleen almost didn’t recognize it. Her fingers stopped, and he made a noise of protest. She resumed running her fingers over his head, and he let out another sigh. “I don’t remember much of it. Just occasional flashes of being with others in uniform. The rattle of gunfire. Explosions.”
Kathleen thought that was all he would say. She kept up the comforting massaging, and he eventually continued to speak.
“The Handler tells me I volunteered. That we all did. That we chose to serve our country. There was… pain. I remember that.” Kathleen could feel the shudder in his body through her fingers and where his head rested on her lap. “I don’t remember how long it took. Then there were the tests. The training. We got stronger and faster, and our senses were better, but it got harder to think. We were pitted against each other. Told we had to prove our worth, or we failed our country.”
He fell silent, and Kathleen kept up her even gestures through his hair. “They lied to you.”
Finn’s breath exhaled, realizing something he hadn’t been aware of. His baritone turned sharper. “Some went mad. They never recovered from the experiments. They were put down. Others were washed out, and I never saw them again. I was the first to survive, they told me. None of the others were strong enough. None of the others took the training quite as well. I don’t remember the missions, but there have been scores… hundreds, maybe. I know I have never failed to complete a mission. Not until… not until you.”
The fingers of his hand coiled over her thigh. Gently, at first, then increasingly painful.
“Finn,” Kathleen said, touching his hand with her own.
His fingers immediately loosened and troubled silence furrowed his brow. Kathleen resumed brushing his hair with her fingers.
“I was the first, but there were others after me. They will send them after you once they learn you are not dead. Once they realize I have malfunctioned.”
The word sent a chill through Kathleen, followed by a rush of adrenaline. “You are not malfunctioning.” She fought to keep the bite out of her words and her tone gentle, even though she felt anything but. “You are not defective. You are a person, Finn Kingsley. You are not the Hound. Not just the killer they trained you to be.”
The silence spoke to his disbelief of that assertion. Finn’s fingers tightened again on her thigh, then eased. “I will be sent for maintenance. I will be made to forget. I saw it happen with others who failed.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“You can’t stop them.”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty stubborn, notably annoying about protecting those who need it, and exceptionally used to getting my own way. And I have a whole goddamn police force behind me.”
“That won’t be enough.”
“Finn.” Her fingers traced along his jaw, bumping over his stubble. “You don’t have to be the Hound. I won’t let them have you. Whatever I have to do.”
Finn looked up at Kathleen from where his head rested in her lap. She wasn’t sure what he saw in her face, but the furrows in his brow melted away. “Are you stubborn enough to insist on staying with me despite the danger? Even after everything I just told you?”
“Absolutely.”
A flash of heat passed across his features and was gone. “Then I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving your side.”
Kathleen’s heart did a flip. Oh boy. For a man who had trouble articulating himself, it turned out Finn could find a way to say precisely the right thing to get under her skin.