Beauty and the Assassin

“You were going to leave me once I took care of Roy. I didn’t want that.”

That’s… I don’t know what to say to the admission. I was so furious that I was considering leaving, but I wouldn’t have just walked out without a word. Getting rid of Roy means s

o much. No more looking over my shoulder. No more freaking out every time I see a speeding car.

“Then you should’ve made your case,” I say quietly. “You’ve been so quiet since the argument. I thought you didn’t care enough to make me understand.”

“I’m not good at explaining myself. I don’t talk. I execute. And I make my point by executing.”

My sixth sense tickles the back of my neck. It’s a warning: if I press, Tolyan’s going to say something I don’t want to hear. But I meant what I said about wanting honesty. I don’t want to be caught unaware and get angry with him. I’m tired of being angry, especially when he’s hurt. “What did you execute? What point were you trying to make?”

“I wanted to show that I’d take a bullet for you—”

I explode to my feet. “Oh my fucking God, what?”

“—but that failed. So I settled for taking a knife instead.”

“Oh my God!” I shriek. “You’re crazy!”

The cigar makes a small arc in the air. “It’s a small price to pay to make a point.”

His placid, matter-of-fact tone is like pouring gasoline on the proverbial fire. “What point? That you’re an idiot? That you don’t care about your well-being? Or that you have a death wish? If you’d gotten shot at that distance, you would’ve died!” Actually, never mind all that. If I’d known, I would’ve killed him myself first!

“That’s why I said it failed, but really, it was the quality of the lowlifes involved.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re irritated that the bad guys weren’t high-quality enough?”

“They didn’t fire fast enough. My knife got the guy in the center before he could clear his gun.” Tolyan shrugs. It means, What am I supposed to do when the other guy is so awful?

“You are insane.”

“But things worked out well enough.” He points to the bandages on his torso.

“Did you let him stab you on purpose?” I demand, needing to make sure.

He tilts his hand back and forth. “Yes and no.”

“No playing with words, Tolyan.”

“I was thinking about it, but I got distracted, so he got me.”

“I don’t believe you. You would never get distracted during a fight!” The man is laser-focused, highly capable. I’m certain he used to be some kind of high-level spy, who can never reveal his past because it’s still classified.

“Normally, yes. It’s never happened until today.”

He’s speaking entirely too calmly, like what he did was logical and normal. It’s driving me crazy. “It’s because you were thinking about idiotic plans like getting stabbed on purpose!”

“No, it’s because I heard your breathing going unsteady and lost focus for a moment.”

Did that happen? I don’t remember, but then, I was too panicked to remember much of the fight clearly.

“I’ve never done that with anybody before,” he adds.

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I’m still processing what he just said, and my mind’s too jumbled to say something.

“I’ve never worried about anybody’s safety when I fight,” he says.

Finally, I bury my face in my hands. I should’ve known when he showed me the tower of C-4 cream of corn in his pantry. The man isn’t normal. He is certifiable.