TEN
This is the second time Blair has fainted in my arms in the past twenty-four hours.
Not that I mind having her body so close to mine. Her sweet, vanilla scent fills my nose, and I close my eyes, savoring the smell. Gently, I lower her head to lie in my lap.
It’s a lot of information for her to take in, especially in such a short amount of time. I’m certain she has a lot of questions, and I need to be careful how I’ll respond to those questions. I’ll help her by giving her the strength she needs.
Blair’s fingers wrap around the hem of my shirt, palm fisted around the fabric. Her brows slightly narrowed, lips parted.
From what I’ve seen on the tapes, she adores listening to the piano recordings I’ve been sending to her. With a small chuckle at how adorable she looks curled up against me, I start playing a Beethoven piece, one that I learned she enjoys the most.
I’m known as The Ghost.
There’s an obvious reason for that.
My killings are always clean with no evidence left behind. I shadow my targets for months if necessary in order to deliver the perfect kill. My presence is never detected, and all that I leave is a trail of bodies in my wake. Signature isn’t my thing because I don’t want to risk anyone connecting Arlo to The Ghost.
There are a handful of exceptions.
The first, and the most obvious one, is the prison massacre.
I was there for someone else. Then, after getting to know Blair a little and meeting with her over time, I saw that she was going to be sent to an asylum for mental illnesses that weren’t there. Half of the reports were fabricated. Believe it or not, getting into a mental hospital is harder than getting into prison.
In a small fit of rage, I ended up killing around a hundred people.
Thank fuck it wasn’t a bigger fit.
Not one of my proudest moments, but I would do it all over again if it meant letting my butterfly roam free. I had to call Mom for help, and she was not pleased, not in the slightest. She almost left me hanging in there.
Almost.
Thankfully, both she and Dad came to the rescue.
The other few people where I left my signature were the people I killed because they hurt Blair. The two from Long Grove and another four that paid her parents to abuse her. Unlike the two men in that godforsaken city, I didn’t torture the other two.
However, every single piece of evidence of their crimes is safely tucked in my safe. It’s up to Blair how she wants to expose them and how she wants to use them.
The only two men left are Nelson Adams and Paul Simmons.
Something tells me that Adams is connected to Blair, too. If the two motherfuckers worked together and killed my aunt, there’s no reason not to believe Adams could’ve been one of the men to assault Blair.
I just need to find some concrete evidence, and showing Blair his ugly face isn’t smart, not now, at least.
A sigh escapes my lips when the melody stops echoing in the room, and my fingers hover over the piano for a moment. Then, as softly and gently as possible, I pull Blair’s body closer to mine, snuggling her to me.
My heart almost bursts from happiness.
There are a lot of errors and faults in the current plan, but I’ll ensure that we come up with a good one before it all goes down.
The first thing is introducing Blair to my world and my family. Crime, prison, and punishments are something she already knows of, but not to the extent I need her to. She has to be aware of the difficulties that might occur and that nothing here will be done the legal way.
That could frighten her to the point of leaving.
She can’t leave me.
Never.
She can hit, shoot, stab me, or even scream at me. She can never speak to me again, but letting her go isn’t an option. It’s unsafe, and now that she’s slept in my bed, there’s nowhere else I want her to be.
I carry her up to my bedroom, laying her down and covering her with the blanket. She releases a small sigh, turns to the side, and starts snoring. With a chuckle, I kiss the top of her head, selfishly allowing my lips to linger there for a moment longer than necessary.
My phone rings, but it doesn’t wake her up.
The door of my bedroom closes behind me without a sound, and I pick up the call, pressing the phone against my ear.
“Arlo speaking.”
“It’s me,”
Dad says from the other side. “I need you home tonight.”
I pause and take a deep breath. “I can’t tonight. I’ll be home tomorrow.”
“It’s not like you’re actually doing your job, so I doubt you’re busy.”
“You see, something happened.”
“What did you do?”
The accusatory tone ticks me off, though I bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying something I’ll end up regretting. My parents are on the edge, and at a time like this, it doesn’t take much to set them off, so I decide to calm down, or at least, try.
“Remember the prison massacre three years ago, and when I had you help a girl?”
“Vividly.”
He says, displeased at the memories. “The girl you followed to Long Grove.”
“Uh-uh,”
I nod to myself. “Currently, she’s asleep in my bed.”
“Pardon?”
“And I kind of can’t let her leave my sight.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me,”
he concludes. “I know you have a crush, but you’re not that stupid to expose the business, right? Right?!”
“It’s not something I can talk about over the phone,”
I try to be stern. “I’ll drop by tomorrow, and you and I will talk.”
He pauses. “The two of us? Without your mother?”
“Yes,”
I sigh. “It’s something I need to tell you before I tell her.”
“Alright, son,”
he agrees, though reluctantly. “There’s a reason I needed you home tonight.”
“Did something happen?”
“Adams has a poker game tomorrow night, and I got us a way in.”
I clench the phone, careful not to break it like I did the previous one. “When does it start?”
“Eleven, which is why you’ll be here around eight at the latest. Have dinner with your mother first; she needs you.”
My anger momentarily vanishes, and I raise a brow. “You sound rather upset.”
“I am fucking upset,”
he hisses. “She has me. Me. Why the fuck does she need you?”
A deep laugh rumbles through my chest, and I shake my head. “Because I’ll forever be her number one, old man. You should be used to it now. After all, you’re number three.”
“You little shit–”
I hang up the phone before he can get another word in, laughing to myself. He’s always like this. He loves me; he’d give his life for me. But the moment Mom told him he came after Aria and me, I became his rival.
It doesn’t bother me. I’m happy he loves Mom the way she deserves to be loved.
I’ll be the same, even better for my butterfly. Someone she can depend on entirely, someone who will be her forever home, her safe space. Someone she can trust with her heart and vulnerabilities.
Once I return to the bedroom, I pull the chair and sit next to the bed, watching her closely. Her soft hair falls over her face, covering the beautiful beauty mark that is right next to her lips. It’s small, almost too small to be noticed.
But I notice it all the damn time.
How can I not?
She’s the prettiest woman alive. No one even comes close to her. She has this goddess beauty, yet sharp enough to slice through flesh. A poisonous, dangerous kind. If getting poisoned by her means keeping her by my side, then I’m more than willing to taste her poison.
After all, we all crave a little danger.
I shift uncomfortably in the chair, my arms folded in front of my chest. A small sigh comes from me, my eyes closed. For the most part, Blair is sleeping peacefully. The small lamp on the bedside table is turned on because she can’t sleep without at least some light on.
On the other hand, I cannot sleep with anything on.
But if sacrificing my sleep is what I need to do in order to ensure her comfort, it’s a small price. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do to make her feel comfortable and safe. I’ll just survive on coffee and nicotine, and it’ll be fine.
Instinctively, I raise a hand in front of my face, just in time to catch the soft object that’s thrown at me. With a frown, I set it aside, only to see Blair staring at me, sitting up in the bed, eyes still groggy from sleep.
“There was no reason to throw the pillow at me,”
I grumble.
“I’m sorry. It just sort of happened.”
“Don’t apologize.”
A sullen look is on her face, and she yawns, covering her mouth with one hand. She starts stretching, straightening her back, and a small crack can be heard. Blair cocks her head to the side, studying me.
“I want to leave,”
she announces.
My heart picks up the pace, anxiety washing over me and panic setting in. She can’t leave. In fact, she can do literally anything else except leave me. Her safety is something I’m not willing to risk. I want her to feel safe and be safe. It’s been less than two days since I brought her here, yet I’m already used to having her around.
Blair belongs here.
However, telling her no and not listening to her is something I can’t do, either. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
“How about you stay here until I’ve managed to resolve the Simmons issue? If you want, I’ll leave and stay elsewhere. You stay put.”
Her brows narrow.
“Simmons thinks I’m dead.”
“For now,”
I nod. “Now that he’s helping Adams run for mayor, I’m guessing his next step is to run for president next year. He’ll have eyes and ears everywhere. Someone could recognize you.”
“I’m not stupid,”
she defends herself, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Let me help you.”
I’m a second away from getting on my knees and begging. “I’ve been keeping you safe for a while now, and I’ll continue to do so. Please?”
A lightbulb seems to appear above her head, a moment of realization washing over her. Her eyes widen a fraction, but it’s not shocking at what I’ve done – it’s the factor of surprise that I’m admitting to it so easily.
“Those men in Long Grove,”
she lifts a brow. “You killed them?”
“Yes.”
Blair sucks in a deep breath. “Is that what you do? Kill people?”
“Not all people.”
“Not all people,”
she echoes, disbelief on her features.
Lying here is the better option, but in the long run, it’ll come back to bite me in the ass. She’s smart, and she’d figure it out on her own eventually; hence, there’s no point in lying to her.
“I come from a family of assassins,”
I explained. “It goes back generations.”
“Generations?”
She blinks. “That’s… a lot.”
I nod. “It is.”
“Were you forced into it?”
I shake my head. “I grew up knowing what my family did. When I was old enough, it was my decision to train and join the family business.”
“Why?”
I open my mouth to respond, yet no words come out.
A lot of responses come to mind, but none of them feel quite right. For the first time since I started my training back when I was a kid who could barely wipe his own snot, I’m wondering the same thing. Why do I enjoy it so much?
“At first, it was because I saw my parents doing it. Well, I saw them training, cleaning their weapons, and bonding over that. Even now, after twenty years of marriage, it’s what brings them closer each day. Then, it slowly became something I wanted to do, too. It could be because of the adrenaline rush or because of the power I’m feeling. I’m not sure, honestly.”
“You’re killing people, but you don’t know why?”
“Oh, I know why.”
For a minute or two, Blair is silent. She’s processing the new information, and I let her. I lean back into the chair, carefully observing her face. Her eyes are on me, and she’s barely blinking.
“Is that your plan here?”
I raise a brow.
“You want to teach me how to kill people.”
“No, Blair,”
I chuckle. “I want to teach you how to kill him.”
Her ears perk, eyes darkening a shade. Swiftly, she brushes the hair out of her face, pushing it back. She drags her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to decide what to do. Anticipation builds inside of me as I wait for her response.
“I can’t trust you,”
she whispers. “I don’t even know you.”
“There’s enough time. I’ll earn your trust, and you’ll get to know me as much as you want.”
“What if I don’t want to know you?”
My heart sinks to my feet, breaking, shattering into a million pieces. I’ve always taken pride in my poker face, but this? It breaks through any walls and false expressions, and a flicker of hurt flashes on my features.
“Then,”
I clear my throat, trying to shove the feelings of hurt to the back of my mind. “We’ll be two strangers living under one roof.”
Blair slumps back into the bed, staring at the ceiling. She turns to the side, snuggling into the blankets and occasionally looking at me, trying to be discreet.
“I want my revenge,”
she admits begrudgingly. “But I have no skills that can help me.”
I flash her a grin. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“Is it enough? Just you and me?”
“My parents will help you, too. My sister is a good listener, if you need that. But she is a teenager, so she might say some unsavory things. We have around a year until Simmons runs for president. More than enough time to take him and Adams down.”
Her eyes close. “You have too much faith in me.”
“You have it too little.”