Chapter 12 Lark
LARK
Iclutched the file, my heart pounding.
I felt the heat coming off Bastian. Beside me, he was a steady presence, watching me.
Supporting me.
I resisted the uncharacteristic urge to bite my lip. I’d learned not to show my inner feelings to anyone.
A good assassin never gives anything away.
I ignored Ed’s voice in my head. I’d never had someone support me, like they truly cared about me.
Ed had cared in his own way, but growing up, he was just as likely to make me run five miles in the pouring rain, or put me through a set of grueling combat training moves, or send me out in the woods with a water bottle and a knife to survive for three days alone.
He’d never hugged me, or chased my nightmares away.
I swallowed.
I made myself open the file.
Inside was a sheaf of paper. Police reports. Handwritten notations. And worse, photos.
There was blood. So much blood.
My hand shot out, and Bastian engulfed it with his. A lifeline.
I flicked through the pages, reading the names of the victims. A newly engaged couple in their twenties. They’d been killed eighteen months ago.
No.
A happily married couple celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary. That killing was two years ago.
They’d all had red ribbons tied on their wrists. The press had dubbed him the Red Ribbon Killer.
I flicked again, knots forming in my stomach. A family. My heart stopped. They’d had two kids who’d been killed, as well. They’d been on vacation at the beach.
The kids had barely been teenagers.
Bile rose. I surged up, the file slapping to the rug.
I raced to the powder room, dropped to my knees, and was violently sick in the toilet.
Sucking in air, I hung my head. I sensed Bastian behind me and a second later, his arms closed around me. I jerked.
“Shh, I’ve got you.” His big body wrapped around me, and he pushed my hair back from my face.
Then I did something I’d never done. I leaned into him and let him hold me.
My stomach contracted again. I leaned over the toilet and heaved again.
Ed. The man I’d idolized had been a monster. He’d killed kids. He’d done to families what had been done to mine.
Inside, I was screaming. The traumatized little girl was screaming.
Finally, I was done. My stomach was empty and I was wrung out. Numb.
Bastian lifted me off the tiles. He set me down at the vanity and poured a glass of water. “Rinse.”
I did and then he handed me a new toothbrush. Like a robot, I brushed my teeth, and heard the toilet flush behind me.
Lifting my head, I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was sheet white, and my eyes huge, dark, and haunted.
Once again, he wrapped the blanket around me and lifted me. A flutter ignited in my belly. Feelings were doing their best to break through the numbness. I felt like I was encased in ice, but everything Bastian was doing was breaking through.
No one ever carried me. One time, I’d been shot, and I’d dragged myself three miles to get to safety.
My chest was tight. Like there was a ball of pain inside me, growing and twisting. I pressed my fist to my breastbone, trying to hold it together.
This time, he didn’t return to the couch. He carried me down a hallway and into a darkened bedroom. I knew instantly that it was his.
Like the rest of the penthouse, it was dark and stylish.
The bed was enormous, with a glamorous, padded, black leather headboard and silky, black covers.
The nightstands were glossy black wood and trimmed with bronze metal.
A circular piece of artwork made of intricately twisted metal dominated the wall above the bed.
He set me down on the bed and cupped my cheeks. “Don’t hold it all in.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t let it loose.
“Yes. Let it out.” His tone was clipped and bossy. “If you keep it all inside you, you’ll only hurt yourself.”
“I can’t lose control,” I whispered. “A good assassin is always in control.”
Bastian sat beside me and pulled me onto his lap.
I breathed in the scent of him. The expensive cologne he favored. He smelled like sandalwood and spice. I’d found the exact scent: Clive Christian No. 1. I’d not been surprised to discover it was one of the most expensive men’s fragrances available.
Slowly, I settled against his hard chest.
“Fuck Ed’s rules,” he said. “Here, you aren’t an assassin. You’re just Lark. You just learned that the man you cared about, a man you admired, is a serial killer.”
The numbness cracked.
“How could he!” Anger poured out of me. “My life was destroyed by a killer, and he did it to other families. Why?”
I flailed, my hand hitting Bastian. He wrapped the blanket tighter around me and held on.
“I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go. Let it out.”
“If he was here, I’d kill him. I’d—” A sob broke free.
“There you go,” Bastian said.
Tears flowed, stinging and salty. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried.
He hauled me closer and pressed my face to his chest so I soaked his shirt.
I cried, I sobbed, I screamed.
Finally, I sagged against him feeling empty. The anger, the fury, the fight…all gone. Now, I just felt tired and sad.
Bastian shifted us to the center of the big bed. He pressed his back against the headboard, with me half sprawled on him. On this beautiful, dangerous man.
He could have anything, have anyone, do anything he wanted. Why was he even here with me?
“Stop thinking for a bit.” His hand was in my hair, stroking.
I sighed. “I don’t understand how he could do this. He was your friend. You knew him better than anyone.”
Bastian was silent for a moment. “I don’t understand either, and the reality of it is that we’ll never know.
My best guess is that he lost a piece of himself.
Apart from us, he always avoided true human connections.
He thought it made him weak. These horrible things he did must have filled some dark void. ”
Grief and sadness swamped me. “I could’ve helped him.”
“He didn’t want help. Once I found out, I was terrified he’d eventually hurt you. I had to stop him.”
I blinked. Bastian had killed Ed to protect me.
Unfamiliar emotions twisted around my chest and I struggled with them. Just hours ago, this man had been my enemy. I’d wanted to kill him.
I’d tried to kill him.
Okay, I could admit to myself that I truly hadn’t tried very hard.
Now, he was holding me like I was precious.
His fingers sifted through my hair. “Just switch it off for a bit, Lark. Rest now.”
Emotions tried to choke me. One of them was fear.
He made me feel so much. Things I wasn’t equipped to deal with.
A good assassin doesn’t make emotional connections. They’re always in control.
Screw you, Ed.
I closed my eyes and held onto Bastian.