Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin) (38 page)

An order. One she would heed. There was nothing he could say to change her mind about him.

“I was a contract killer for the government.” He paused, as if expecting her to leap up and run.

She didn’t—she was too stunned.

He continued. “I killed humans, otherworlders, males, females, it didn’t matter. If I was told to kill someone, I killed that someone, no questions asked. I’ve killed a lot of people, Vika.”

She wouldn’t lie. The words were hard to hear, and she flinched. Her man, a killer. But he wasn’t anything like her father, she reminded herself, and she would never think of him that way. Jecis had enjoyed the pain he inflicted. Solo never had, something she would stake her life on.

“I cried after my first kill, and I’m not embarrassed to admit it. I stared at the body for a long, long time,
shaking, sick to my stomach. But I still took the next job, and the next, and eventually what I was doing no longer bothered me. I was cold inside, and glad of it.”

But not now
. There was too much regret in his tone.

“Most of what I did was for a good cause, and I know men like me are needed to keep our world safe. But the things I had to do to complete certain jobs . . . I think I’ve always been more like you, because, no matter my reasons, what I was doing was also killing the man I was meant to be. I wish I could undo my past. I wish I could go back and live a different life, but I can’t. I have to live with what I’ve done. And now, I’m asking you to live with it, too.”

She heard the regret, now mixed with insecurity, doubt, guilt, and sorrow. A desire to clean the slate and start fresh. A desire she knew very well. She was surprised she could judge the emotions so precisely, and doubted she could have done so with anyone else, but this was Solo, her Solo, and she knew him in a way she’d never known anyone else.

Vika sat up, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. He waited, tense.

“Everyone regrets things in their past,” she said, and he tensed a little more. “Even me.”

As he watched her lips, he relaxed, but only slightly. “You have done nothing wrong.”

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to absolve her. “Rather than finding a way to free the otherworlders right from the start, I enabled my father to use them. And don’t you dare say I did what I could. I could have done more.
My actions were selfish. I wanted out of there permanently and I let them rot while I saved my money.”

“You searched for the key.”

“I could have searched harder. I could have asked Jecis about it.”

“And placed yourself at greater risk.”

“All I’m saying is, we
both
could have acted differently.”

“Vika—”

“I still want to stay at your farm,” she interjected. “You’re not the man you used to be, and you aren’t a monster.” And she didn’t like that she’d ever implied he could be. No one could see into the heart of a man and know what he felt or why he did what he did. You had to wait and watch for the fruit. An orange tree would always bear oranges. A lemon tree would always bear lemons. “I’m not the girl I used to be, either, and I’m so very—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said sternly. “With your past, the fact that you helped me at all is amazing enough.”

“Sorry,” she finished anyway.

His frown was chiding.

“We have to forgive ourselves,” she said with a nod. “We can’t live with self-hatred. It’s a terrible emotion, and it will open the door for us to hate others. Hating others will make us like Jecis, and I don’t want to be like Jecis.”

“We can only go on from here,” Solo agreed. “Doing better.”

“We start fresh.” From this moment on, she was no longer the coward who slunk around in the shadows,
the timid mouse that cowered in corners, or the victim of constant cruelty. She was filled with hope. She was empowered.

She was with the most magnificent of men.

“As long as you never forget what we’ve done here at this cabin,” Solo said, his voice tender.

Shivering, she replied, “Believe me, I’ll be dreaming about this cabin every time I close my eyes.”

“I have a feeling I will as well.” He reached up, brushed a fingertip over her cheeks. “We’ve talked about the past. Now let’s talk about the future. After I free the otherworlders from the circus, I have to find my friends, John and Blue. They were injured, like me, and from what little I know about the man responsible, terrible things were done to them.”

“I understand.” And she wouldn’t have it any other way. “I’ll do anything I can to help.”

A fierce light in eyes she was used to seeing stare back at her from a mirror—a light she’d never before seen in them. “No matter what happens, I’ll take care of you.”

“And I’ll take care of you,” she promised. “And when we succeed—and we will, because we’re unstoppable—we’re going on a date.
Many
dates. You’re going to wine and dine me, and I’m going to dress up and seduce you. We’ll dance and eat and talk and laugh, and have the best time.”

“I’ll agree to those terms on one condition,” he said, and reached down to cup her bottom.

A thrum of need, a breathy moan. “What?”

He licked and sucked at her collarbone. “Solo no good with words. He have to show.”

Silly caveman. “Again? Oh, dear. However will I survive?”

He kissed her, relearning her, tasting her, but the kiss soon spun out of control. Just as before, Vika was confounded by the absolute and utter delight she found in the act of making love with him. Solo was gentle, and he was rough, he was careful and he was undisciplined, he was . . . everything to her, and more than she could have ever dreamed.

There was no part of her he left unpraised. Nothing was taboo. He delighted in all that she was, and erupted into a frenzy of growls and commands when she took over, showing him just how much she loved him.

Love?

She did, she realized. She loved him with all of her heart. The emotion burst through her, warming her, delighting her, thrilling her—frightening her, but she wasn’t going to dwell on that, and she wasn’t going to think about wanting more from him than he might want from her. His feelings wouldn’t change her own. And she wasn’t a mouse, she reminded herself. She was brave. She was strong. She would go after what she wanted with everything she had.

Twenty-eight

The flowers have already appeared in the land, the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land.

—SONG OF SOLOMON 2:12

S
OLO STARED AT THE
computer screen and scowled. Finally, he’d gotten an e-mail. Three, in fact. One from Michael, one from John, and one from Blue. But all three were bounce-back messages.

Their e-mail addresses had been changed. And so had their phone numbers. That was standard operating procedure when an identity or a location had been compromised—or an agent had died.

Solo’s own code to this cabin should have been disabled, but it hadn’t been. He wasn’t sure why. What he did know? He needed a new plan. If Michael was alive, he knew Solo was here, despite their little communication problem. He would have known the moment Solo punched the code into the alarm. He would have called.

To Solo, that still didn’t prove the man was dead. But. Yeah, but. There was always a but when doubt and uncertainty were involved. Solo might have to proceed as if Michael was out of the picture and unable to help him.

Now that the cuffs were out there in the wild, Jecis
wouldn’t be able to get a lock on Solo. He would be watching the nearest cities, maybe even the airport and bus station. But that wasn’t really a problem. In the garage underneath the cabin, there was a truck and an ATV. But . . . There was that word again. He didn’t like the thought of taking Vika out in the elements. She’d held up well the first time, but he’d since made the mistake of allowing desire to overshadow duty, and hadn’t used the condom the first time they made love. He’d used it the second, and should have stopped since they’d had no more. But then he’d rationalized that the damage was already done. So he’d made love to her a third time—and he would make love to her again.

She could now be pregnant. And if she wasn’t, she could be by day’s end.

The possibility should have disturbed him. The possibility should have frightened him. He wasn’t ready to be a father. But he couldn’t deny he liked the thought of Vika round with his child, tied to him on so visceral a level.

A loud ringing erupted in his ears, and he frowned, ignored it. He didn’t like that Jecis knew Vika’s general vicinity. He didn’t like father and daughter even being in the same country. But though Solo now had the resources, he didn’t have time to take her somewhere else.

He would stay here one more night, he decided, and wait for Michael. Then, if his boss failed to contact him or arrive, he would lock Vika inside the cabin and return to the circus—with guns, as Kitten had requested. After all, more than vehicles filled the garage.

He didn’t want to run the risk of Jecis moving the
circus again. Right now, Solo doubted the man would do such a thing. He would want to stay here and search for Vika.

“You’re happy,” a familiar voice said.

Solo blinked, momentarily confused. He could hear. Did that mean Vika, who was currently napping, exhausted from his insatiable lovemaking, was once again deaf? If so, he wasn’t sure he liked that trade.

“I am,” he replied. “No thanks to you.”

Dr. E appeared on the desk, glaring up at him. His hair was tangled, hanging limply around a gaunt face. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow. “Why not? I helped you.”

“You only ever got me into trouble.”

The being hissed at him, and if there had been tiny pebbles on the desk, Solo felt certain they would have been hurtled at his head. “You won’t ever listen to me again, will you?”

“No.” He liked to think he learned from his mistakes.

Dr. E popped his jaw. “X was given to you the day of your conception, a gift from your parents to minister to your needs, to protect and teach you, but he was never to override your free will, even when it got you into trouble.”

“I know that,” Solo said, sitting up straighter.

“I used to be like him. Did you know
that
? Long, long ago, I was an Altilium. But I chose a different life, chose to take rather than ask and wait for an answer, and the source of my power drained. I had to find another.
So I joined you and X without permission. Had you ignored me, I would have been forced to leave, but you did not. You listened to me, welcomed me, and I was able to attach myself to you and feed off you.”

“Like a parasite,” Solo gritted.

A dismissive wave of Dr. E’s tiny hand. “I prefer the term ‘energy receptor.’ ”

“Whatever. Go on. You have a point, I’m sure.”

Before the little guy could open his mouth, Vika poked her head into the room, and said, “Solo?” Her mass of pale hair was brushed and gleaming. Her eyes were once again the color of plums, and though they were sparkling, she was frowning.

Solo jumped to his feet. “Everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine. But I’m deaf again, and I just wanted to make sure you could hear.”

“I can,” he said.

Relief painted the edges of her sudden smile, dazzling him. “I’m glad.” She came the rest of the way inside and leaned against a wall. She must have dug through the dresser drawers, because she now wore an oversize sweatshirt that had to be rolled at the wrists and pants that had to be rolled at the ankles.

Never had she looked younger, fresher, and his heart actually swelled in his chest. But he wanted to see her in clothing he had bought for her. Or clothing he had first worn. Wanted her surrounded by his things—their things. Wanted to give her . . . everything.

“I wonder why the switching of our senses keeps happening,” she said. “I know you said you think it’s
because we vowed to share all that we are, but do you think there’s more to it than that, since nothing’s sticking?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” A shrug. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”

Like the fact that he wanted to give her
everything
? Like the fact that he loved sharing this with her? “I’m glad it’s happening, and I hope you are too. No one else has ever had the chance to see the world through another person’s eyes, but we have. No one else has ever had the chance to hear through another person’s ears, but we have.”

“We’re special?” she said, a question when she’d probably meant to make a statement.

“We are. And maybe the abilities aren’t sticking because that’s what sharing is all about. Give and take. Ebb and flow.”

She nodded, satisfied with that. “Well, Mr. Special, I’m going to raid the pantry and cook up a feast,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

“Always.”

“Give me an hour. Meanwhile, prepare to be amazed.” She blew him a kiss, turned, and padded down the hallway.

“You’ll never give her up, will you?” Dr. E demanded from behind him.

Solo pivoted on his heel and faced the being who had so often given him terrible advice, laughed during his torture at the circus, and abandoned him time and time again, when Solo most needed help. “No.”