She was the key. With her, I could sleep, avoid the dreams, and gain some clarity. The problem was that having her anywhere near me—even while I was incarcerated—was a dangerous situation for her, and she didn't deserve any of this. She shouldn't have to concern herself with my fucked up life, but that was exactly what she'd been drawn into.
I knew deep inside that I should just let her go– refuse to see her again and maybe do something obnoxious to drive her away. Of course, she had already witnessed me at my worst and didn’t seem to be running away yet.
Well, sort of my worst. There were things she hadn’t seen and things she didn’t know about that she might consider far worse than what she had witnessed. I didn’t really know how she would feel about that, and I didn’t want to find out just what sort of expression might cross her face if she became aware of my job description.
That led me to another thought: I had no idea how she would react to my professional activities because I really didn’t know that much about her. I didn’t even know where she was from or what she did for a living. She’d pelted me with a lot of questions during the thirty or so hours we had spent together, and I had answered them like a fool, but I hadn’t asked her much about herself.
What did I know about her?
She had an ex-fiancé who drank a lot and got nasty with her, up to and including both smacking her on at least one occasion and shoving her out of a moving car in the middle of the desert. I also knew her father had died of cancer, and her mother lived in Phoenix. Mom didn’t like the ex.
William.
I’d practically offered to kill the guy for being an asshole, and she’d flinched from me. That actually told me a lot, at least as far as process of elimination. She wasn’t used to a life of violence other than a drunken, abusive boyfriend, which meant all the shit I was involved in would probably freak her the hell out.
She liked her sex rough, though.
She had been the most turned on when I was holding her down and slamming into her from behind. I could practically feel the way her body gripped my cock as she came on me. I remembered that with the utmost clarity, almost to the point where the memory was going to give me a hard-on. It was only my unfortunate surroundings that kept me from considering jacking off to the images in my head.
Just what I need—the asshole guard peeking at me through the window when I have my dick out.
I shook my head and thought about what else had transpired during my brief time with Lia.
I’d told her my full name, which was probably how she managed to track me down at all. I’d told her I was retired from the Marines and that she didn’t want to know anything else about me.
What else did I know about her?
Nothing.
No wait—there was one more thing I knew, and it was kind of the key to my whole situation. I knew I would do anything and everything for her, no questions asked. I couldn’t really frame in my own head why that was, only that the moment I woke up in the Arizona cabin lying with her on that tiny bed, I had been hers.
The most bizarre thought came into my head. It wasn’t the thought itself that was so strange but more the fact that I had never considered it before.
What if I left the organization? What if I went to Rinaldo after all of this was over and told him I didn’t want to be a hit man anymore? What if I told him I wanted to retire? I had plenty of money stashed away—mostly in cash but a bit in foreign accounts as well. It might not be enough to live on indefinitely, but it was a damn good start.
Did anyone ever do that?
Not that I had ever seen. Feet first was the only way out of this kind of business as far as I knew. I’d never paid attention though. Could it be that there were some out there who had just moved on with their lives? If there were, was that something Rinaldo would let me do?
Could I really even live like that—off the edge, keeping my hands clean? Was that even remotely possible, or would I always be drawn to violence and death like I had in the past?
If I told Lia everything, would she still go with me?
“Fuck it. This is stupid.”
Too many fucking questions and no way to get answers from where I was. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes and looked around at the room. With an audible sigh, I hauled myself back onto my feet and tossed the mattress back onto the bed frame before flopping down on it, grabbing the pillow to my chest and staring at the toilet in the corner. My eyes started to hurt with the strain of staring, so I closed them for a moment.
My body was still tired, but my mind was far too active for rest. As the possibilities for the future clambered around in my head, the idea became more and more attractive.
I had always been one of Rinaldo’s favorites, ever since Jonathan brought me to him, and I took out a guy he wanted put down the very next day. I was like a son to him, and he was like my father. What father wouldn’t allow his son to follow his dreams, right? Especially when he’d done so much for the father already.
Fat fucking chance.
Still, if he were going to allow anyone to leave the organization, it would be me. Hell, he allowed Nick, his illegitimate son, to basically ignore all the business shit that went on around him. The guy didn’t do a damn thing to earn his keep unless fucking every other woman he met and smoking weed were something he planned on putting on his resume.
I hadn’t thought about Nick with everything else going down, and I recalled the last conversation I ha
d with Rinaldo on the topic of his son, who had apparently found himself an actual girlfriend, as opposed to a convenient fuck. Of course, he managed to pick Milena Severinov, the most inconvenient girl he could possibly have chosen to have hanging out in his bed.