Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin 1)

Solo would happily take care of Matas.

“And then, after both men are dead, and I have no means of protection,” she said, “you would leave me out there in the big, bad world to fend for myself, penniless, helpless. You wouldn’t mean to, I know. I can tell you’re a good man. But you have a life out there, one that doesn’t include the zoo owner’s daughter, and you would eventually cut me loose.”

“No—”

“You would also sentence the other captives to death,” she interjected. “They would be slaughtered simply to punish me.”

“I would come back for them.”

“Yes, but would you make it in time? No, you can’t guarantee that.” She turned her head away, trying to end the conversation the only way she could.

Solo latched onto her wrist, giving it the barest squeeze to bring her attention back to him. “I will leave your family alone if that’s what you want.” He would hand them over to Michael, and the end result would be the same, but she didn’t need to know that. “I’ll release the otherworlders and take you with me, and you’ll never have to fend for yourself. I have money. I can take care of you for the rest of your life, if you so desire.”

Her gaze searched his features. “I . . . I actually think you mean that,” she said.

“I do. And I’m willing to vow it.”

“Don’t,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t want you morally bound or anything like that, when there’s a huge problem with your plan.”

“And that is?” he said, urgency riding him hard. He would have a solution, whatever it was, and she would free him. She had to free him.

“The cuffs.”

“They aren’t actually a problem. I have a friend who can remove them.” John could remove any kind of shackles. If he’s still alive. The thought irritated him. He was. And that was final.

“You’ll lose your hands.”

“They’ll grow back.”

A moment passed. She shook her head, as if his words were too odd to keep inside her head. “The real question is, can you reach your friend before Jecis finds you? And what about the other prisoners in the meantime?”

He popped his jaw. He had no immediate solution for that, which meant he had to try another angle. “Do you like the life you lead? Hiding under mobile homes? Sneaking food to prisoners?”

Growling low in her throat, she slapped at the bars. “No, but I have a plan. A plan that will work better than yours, thank you. I just have to wait for the perfect time.”

Ah. Her mysterious plan. “There will never be a more perfect time than this moment. I’m here. I’m willing.” He spread his arms to draw her attention to a hard-won strength far superior to her father’s. “I will do what I say I will do. I will save you, protect you. And why would you care about the others, anyway? They hate you.”

Back up went her chin. “Here’s a little lesson you should probably take to heart. Anyone who returns hate for hate is no better than my father, and I won’t trade one monster for another.”

How dare she compare him to Jecis! Even though he had done the same to himself. He wanted to yell at her.

He also wanted to hug her.

He definitely wanted to kiss her.

“If you walk away from me, Vika, you condemn me to death.” A stretching of the truth, and a definite manipulation, but why not? Everything else had proved futile.

The flush drained from her cheeks, leaving her as pallid as Dr. E. “I spend every spare second searching for the key to the cuffs. I have for years, in fact. I’ll find it. I will free you.”

The announcement floored him. For years, she’d said. She’d been trying to help the captives for years.

Solo reached through the bars. She flinched, but didn’t dart away. With anyone else, he would have taken such a reaction personally and raged. But with her, with her past, he knew better and allowed himself to trace his fingertip along the curve of her jaw. So soft, so smooth.

Her breathing quickened—but she still didn’t leave.

He wasn’t going to convince her to do what he wanted. He knew that now. She was too stubborn, too blinded by the merits of her plan. And there were merits. There just weren’t enough.

He would have to join her. For now. “I’ve studied the cuffs. The key is probably metal, with a slender belly and two fat ends. Look for something in the shape of the letter eight.”

“I will,” she rasped, and licked her lips. “And thank you.”

His arm fell to his side. If he continued to touch her, he would give in to his urge to cup her nape and tug her forward. To steal the air from her lungs. If that happened, he would stop listening for her father.

She backed away from him. “This is our last day in the city. After the last show, we’ll pack up and leave. Jecis will keep you here, wanting you nearby during your first trip. I’ll return to you when I can.” A nervous laugh left her. “If I can.”

With that cryptic statement, she spun and raced from the area, never glancing back.

“Why—” he began, only to slam his lips together. She couldn’t hear him.

He punched the bars. He hated his captivity, yes, but deep down, a part of him hated watching that woman walk away more.

Fifteen

A man of understanding will acquire wise counsel.

—PROVERBS 1:5

VIKA WEIGHED HER OPTIONS. Her father suspected she had been feeding Solo. He would question her, intimidate her, and he would discern the truth. There would be no hiding it; there never was, and she’d known that before she’d acted. But still she’d been unable to stop herself from helping the injured otherworlder. Even now, it wasn’t a decision she regretted. He had warned her about what awaited her, despite the fact that she could have packed a bag and left him in the dust.

I should have freed him.

But . . . she didn’t want to be without him. Somehow, he had become a safe haven.

He was so beautiful, more beautiful with every day that passed. And he was so sweet to her, so wonderfully protective.

Constantly she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him while he was awake, and then, to be kissed by him. Because he wanted her, not because he wanted something from her. In fact, all during their conversation she’d wondered.

Now she had to know. It was a need.

He was a need.

His scent, his gaze, his touch, his heat, the calluses on his hands. His smile, his frown, his wit, his kindness. She hadn’t gotten over the fact that he’d used his body as a shield to save her from a bullet already meant for him.