13. Chapter 13
TIERNEY
“You here to kill me, Rossdale?” I asked quietly.
“I’m already dead—I just didn’t know it until now.” I whispered.
Rossdale was a pro. Unless they paid him extra, he wouldn’t drag it out. Maybe, as a professional courtesy, he would make it quick and painless.
He ran his fingers through his hair, carelessly dragging his gun with them as his eyes flitted from me to the carefully staged masterpiece before me, seemingly lost for words.
“What the fuck happened here?”
A dry, humorless laugh bubbled up through me, escaping my lips despite my dire circumstances, or maybe because of them. The absurdity of this moment wasn’t lost on me. A young assassin framed for an unforgivable crime. Her rival, the only person in the region her equal, sent to kill her .
Even the greenest of newbie authors wouldn’t dare write a plot that predictable; too unrealistic—yet here I was living it!
“What’s it look like?” I replied, my eyes dropping to the hilt of the knife closest to me. A knockoff. A cheap imitation of the custom blades I used, not that I expected anyone else to make that distinction.
“A fucking frame job,” he growled, scooping me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing, leaving the office without a backward glance.
My heart raced. Something dangerously resembling hope flickered in the deepest part of me. The tiniest spark, too afraid to allow itself to burn. And yet, I found myself grasping it with both hands, needing something to hold on to.
Each step down the stairs was punctuated with his angry footfalls as he stomped away from the broker and the death sentence he represented.
Icy wind spilled through the open doorway, its tendrils wrapping around my throat, threatening to bring my dinner back up.
“No.” I whispered, fear clawing at my throat. “They’ll see you. They’ll know.”
He stopped; his eyes raking over me—seeing more than they should and I pressed forward strength I didn’t have, forming it into a mask I hoped he wouldn’t see through.
“There are no cameras in the office, Rossdale. None. But I clocked four on my way in the front door. They know we’re here.”
“And?” he drawled, arching his brow. The way his posh accent curled around the lone syllable grated on every one of my nerves.
I sighed heavily. A sharp, stabbing pain answered, reminding me I was still wounded. Another breath, this one slower and more controlled. “Someone’s controlling this. The second we step out that door, the target on us goes live. ”
He nodded, his infuriatingly perfect jaw set in a hard line. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”
“Why not shoot me and walk out of here a free man?” I asked, sucking in a ragged breath. I hated this conversation, but something slumbering deep in the darkest parts of me. Perhaps the darkness itself lazily opened one eye that night in the grove and had been interested in me ever since.
“I’m sure that Walther is whispering for you to fire it—just once.”
He shrugged. “She’ll just have to wait. Won’t she?”
“She?” I asked, mimicking the arch of his perfect brow.
“Of course she’s female. Anything with a body that sleek and beautiful has to be female,” he stated matter-of-factly as he continued toward the door.
“And to answer your question, I don’t work for free.”
My eyes pinched shut as we crossed the threshold, half expecting bright lights and a firing squad, not daring to open them until he sat me in the front seat and the seatbelt clicked into place.
The roar of the engine faded into a quiet purr as he backed out of the driveway. My face pressed against the cool glass, watching the blur of buildings and streetlights as they passed.
“My bike—”
“I’ll have someone collect it for you. Where is it?”
“Um—under the footbridge on 9th.”
He nodded, but didn’t respond.
The adrenaline faded as quickly as it had surged, leaving behind an empty hollow now that the hunt was over—at least for now. I wrapped my arms around myself, desperate to hold the pieces together and not allow the emptiness—the weakness to swallow me whole.
My eyes slid shut, exhaustion taking me over, dragging me under bit by bit, just when I needed to keep my wits about me. The man sitting next to me could easily kill me from half a mile away, and here I was, letting my guard down mere inches from him.
Still, this was the second time he saved my life in as many weeks. He and I weren’t in the business of saving people, and we didn’t rack up the big numbers by doing favors for rival assassins.
My lips parted with the intention of asking him what the hell was going on, but they refused to do more than quiver before snapping shut, my eyes following closely behind.
My eyelids refused to cooperate when I woke this morning—at least I was pretty sure it was morning. Not that I had any intention of leaving this fluffy cocoon anytime soon.
I rolled my neck, wincing when I tried to do the same with my hips.
“Careful.” an unfamiliar voice cooed.
I bolted upright, my legs scrambling to free themselves from the tangle of sheets and blankets.
Two strong arms pressed on my shoulders, pushing me back onto the pillow, my breath catching when my eyes found hers.
Hazel eyes, more green than blue, called to a memory, something visceral.
I pushed my arms between hers, a guttural cry tearing from my throat as I wrench them apart, freeing myself from her grasp.
She stumbled backward, her hands up in front of her like she was fending off a rabid dog. “Tierney. I need you to listen to me. ”
“Who are you?” I asked, hating the slight tremor in my voice.
Her hands lowered slightly. “I’m Larissa. Larissa Connor. I’m Ahren’s doctor. He asked me to care for you.”
I nodded, my eyes sweeping over the room, only now recognizing the room from my previous stay here.
“Doctor.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“What’s wrong with me? Broken rib, right?”
Her shoulders dropped, and she released a heavy breath. “Three actually. Have a seat and I’ll walk you through everything I have done since the attack.” She continued, offering me a gentle smile.
I climbed back into the bed, pulling the fluffy blanket back over me. “Where is he?”
She shrugged. “Not sure. He said he had some errands to run and he would be back. He asked me to care for you in the meantime.”
I nodded, kicking myself internally for asking that. Why did I even care? Doctor? Well, I guess that answers why he brought me here instead of taking me home.
“You have three broken ribs and another with a hairline fracture. There was some internal bleeding. I stopped most of it, but there were a few minor bleeds that should heal on their own. Of course, I was hoping you would stay in bed where I could closely monitor you and not go running off and actively trying to kill yourself,” she said bluntly.
“Is that all?” I asked, matching her snarky tone.
A wry smirk curled on her lips before she continued. “No actually. You had either six or seven lacerations and I stitched them up, but I am sure you noticed that when you wrapped your ribs before your—excursion.”
“So, were you the one to clean me up, or did he—?”
“Yeah, no! No, Ahren carried you into the shower and I cleaned you up, redressed your wounds, and put a spare pair of my scrubs on you. Then he carried you in here before he left.”
“Thank you.” I replied, barely above a whisper. I couldn’t remember the last time I had thanked someone that wasn’t part of a cover.
An awkward silence settled between us, neither of us having any idea what to say.
The door popped open with a sharp click, and the rhythmic clicking of claws on the hardwood floor mingled with the soft padding of paws as a sleek, black Doberman stepped inside.
His nose worked back and forth across the floor, tracking a scent, sniffing Larissa before pushing aside the blankets and resting beneath my leg, his eyes glued to mine expectantly.
I held my hands out for him to sniff. “See, I don’t have anything.”
He sniffed my fingers with a whine, sneezing his disapproval before turning and sauntering out the door with the same easy pace he’d entered.
This time, when our eyes met, Larissa’s half smirk had morphed into a full-blown smile.
I barked out a laugh. “Ok. But you can’t tell Rossdale.” I started.
Her laugh echoed my own, and she nodded rapidly, crossing her fingers across her heart.
“I make these liver treats that dogs can’t resist and sneak them each a handful when I come to deliver my—tributes.” I rushed out.
“That’s brilliant. He trained them not to take treats from strangers, you know? They must really like you,” she mused.
“Hey, making those treats costs an arm and a leg. But being able to taunt him is worth every cent. ”
We talked for a while; the words coming easier now that we had found a way to break the ice. I liked her and I could see why he was fond of her, too.
“They’re coming for me.” I said, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. “Ahren too. He protected me, so he has a target now, too.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I had a feeling the night we pulled you from that grove that this would end in a full-scale war.”
“And you still saved my life, anyway?” I said, my words coming out more of a question than a statement.
She nodded, a soft smile broke across her face. “Ahren asked me to.”
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
“For him?”
“For him.” She nodded.