Chapter 7 Nash
NASH
The woman jerked to her feet.
The top of her head probably reached my shoulder. She looked at me, knife in hand, but I knew she couldn’t see me clearly in the darkness. A nearby security light on one building gave the only illumination, and it was highlighting her and her victim.
“Stay back,” she warned.
I held up a hand. “I figured he deserved it.”
“He did.” Her voice had a smoky undertone.
I cocked my head. “Are you going to finish it?”
She hesitated. She clearly wasn’t a trained killer, but I felt a faint whiff of desperation. I knew desperation could drive people to do things they ordinarily wouldn’t.
Being an assassin meant being cool, controlled, even detached. It paid to keep emotion out of it.
I’d watched this woman stun and drug the guy on the ground. She was a ball of emotion, running on it.
“What was your plan? Get him down, incapacitate him, then…?”
She licked her lips. She had very nice lips—full, still stained red. Damn, it had been a long time since I’d noticed a woman’s lips. And the way she faced me head on, I liked that too. She was afraid, but she wasn’t letting it stop her.
“I…don’t know. I want to kill him.”
The venom in her voice made my muscles tighten. What had the bastard done to her?
“You have the knife.”
Her fingers tightened. “I… Dammit.” She looked at the dirty ground.
Suddenly, the guy moved, his fingers circling her ankle. She kicked at him.
With a frown, I started forward. At that moment, sirens sounded at the end of the alley. Red and blue lights flickered.
The woman’s face went blank, then she shoved the knife in her hoodie pocket, whirled and ran in the opposite direction.
Fuck, I hadn’t asked who she was, or why she was looking for me.
If I lost her now, I might never find her again.
I ran after her.
She turned the corner and glanced back. She saw me following and picked up speed.
I kept her in sight. I was a runner and ran several miles each week. I could keep this up all day.
After a few more turns, she broke out onto Fremont Street.
Shit. I watched her run past a large Christmas tree decorated for the holidays and into the Fremont Street Experience.
It was late, but it was still packed with people.
The iconic canopy overhead swirled with multi-colored lights.
It was showing a Christmas theme, dousing everything in vibrant red, green, and gold.
I kept my gaze locked on her. Thankfully, I was tall, and I could easily keep her dark head in sight.
Pushing through the crowd, I gained on her. The lights overhead changed to blue, dotted with snowflakes. I needed to talk with her, but I didn’t want her to get hurt.
She ran into some people and two people fell to the ground with loud cries. Their bags spilled open, wallets, glasses, and keys spilling everywhere.
My quarry almost tripped, but she righted herself at the last second.
“Sorry, sorry.” She spun and kept running.
I dodged the fallen people. Ahead, she turned a corner and I followed her into another dirty Vegas alley.
This was the type of alley that no one wanted to spend time in.
It reeked, a rotting stench coming from the nearby dumpster.
I heard her frantic footsteps ahead and I easily saw her in the darkness.
My night vision had always been exceptional, even as a kid.
Part of the reason I’d gotten my codename.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I called out.
“That’s what they all say.”
There was so much hurt and bitterness in her voice. I felt an unfamiliar tug in my chest.
I wanted to know who the fuck had hurt her.
“I only say what I mean.” I pushed for more speed, closing the distance between us. She glanced back, and pumped her arms wildly.
Damn, she was quick.
My blood was pumping hard and I felt more alive than I had in years. I realized that she was slowing a little, and I could hear her harsh panting.
“I just want to talk. Stop running. I could go all night, you know.”
She snorted. “Guys always say that, too.”
I cracked a smile.
“Just leave me alone.”
“Not until you answer my questions.”
“No.”
She took another corner.
Damn, there was another busy street ahead. I heard people singing and laughing, no doubt coming to and from the casinos and clubs. I couldn’t risk losing her again.
I leaped.
I hit her, and wrapped my arms around her body. I turned midair.
She fought me, twisting and struggling.
I landed on my back, the air rushing out of me. She landed on top of me and cursed. Then she turned into a she-devil, jerking and fighting. She rammed an elbow into my gut.
I rolled and pinned her to the dirty pavement. Nearby, a streetlight illuminated us in a pool of silver light. I grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head.
She snarled.
That’s when I realized her hair was askew.
My brow creased. Not her hair. She was wearing a wig.
Blonde hair peeked from under it.
With one hand, I yanked it off and blonde waves spilled everywhere.
Now I was close, I saw that her eyes weren’t brown like they were in the casino security photos earlier.
She’d obviously been wearing contacts and had taken them out, because now her eyes were hazel—a beautiful blend of green and brown.
Everything in me froze—my muscles, my heart, the air in my lungs.
No. It couldn’t be.
“Georgie?”