take care of her forever. Not if she learns the truth about me and runs.”
“You want her to pull the trigger, don’t you?”
Nodding, I tap my thumb against the computer. “I want her to take back her power. If she hates me, I’ll have to let her go. Completely this time. She can’t be afraid to take care of herself.”
Our eyes meet, and Lincoln shakes his head. “Might as well mention Grant put a price on her head. It may be enough.”
The only problem with mentioning that would be that I’d also have to confess how I happened to have that information.
Guessing now is as good a time as any to rip back another curtain, I glance up to find Adeline staring at us from the doorway again, her eyes jumping between us as the skin between them crinkles in question.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, concern touching her expression.
I breathe out, mentally preparing myself for this conversation. Sadly, the fact I kill people for a living isn’t the worst of it.
“Come here, baby bird. There’s something I need to show you.”
Adeline
Two men stare at me from where they sit on the couch. Both are practically strangers, men I wouldn’t have recognized a few months ago had I passed them on the street. Yet, in a way, I feel like I know both of them.
They’re opposite in many ways. Where Ari is so dark shadows appear to cling to him even beneath the lights above his head, Lincoln is lighter, his skin tone more pale, his hair and eyes a golden brown.
Ari, it seems, is always the picture of sophistication, even when dodging whatever I happen to throw at him, while Lincoln is rough around the edges, a brute strength compared to Ari’s savage grace.
Both men are much bigger than me, their shoulder spans equal, their height about the same. Even now, they fill up the space around them, their long legs stretched in front of the sofa, Lincoln’s legs slightly spread while Ari crosses his at the ankle.
Even their voices contrast. Both deep, Ari’s is a smooth baritone that whispers at the ear with subtle warning and a seductive taunt, and Lincoln’s is a gritty rumble, the blunt tone the kind that kick-starts a woman’s heart.
I should fear both of them. I know that. Obviously, I know nothing about them, but you can’t look at these men without realizing you’re outgunned. Maybe it’s the way they carry themselves, so at ease amidst violence. I can almost picture them walking calmly through battle, Ari laughing at the gore because everything is a joke to him, while Lincoln snaps the necks of everyone they pass.
They’re hot and cold. Their confidence - their arrogance - enough to make any intelligent person think twice before crossing them.
And they’ve both been watching me since I was a teenager. The only question I have is why?
“What do you need to show me?”
I cross my arms over my chest, still attempting to rebel against the beautiful jerk who makes it his life mission to piss me off. Although I bristle at him calling me a baby bird, I still at the tone of his voice.
It’s missing the usual teasing quality he always takes with me, the game he’s playing lost in the way he called me over. Whatever they’re looking at is enough to make them both hesitant to show me, and I want to turn and run instead of walk over there.
Ari pats the couch cushion beside him before looking at Lincoln, smacking him at the back of the head and demanding he scoot over to give me room.
I laugh before I can stop myself only because it’s comforting to see the easy friendship they have with each other. Glaring at Ari like he’s about to smack back, Lincoln shoves his body to the farthest seat, giving me plenty of space between them.
Wondering how much a woman would pay to sit in that spot between these two men, I take slow steps forward, careful to step around the broken glass on the floor.
Ari keeps his stare locked on my face, something vicious rolling behind his grey eyes. Still, I drop my gaze to the line of his cruel lips, my body tingling as I step closer.
Dressed in only a pair of dark pants, Ari’s upper body is bare to my eyes, the smooth, golden color deepening to a shadowed copper in the valleys of his muscular physique.
My eyes run down the ridges of flexed muscle, the tight