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ONTENTS

Summary Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Epilogue Also by Ella Goode Connect with me!

I left a job I was very good at to seek a better life. The new life is boring. I get up. I go to classes. I avoid people. That last one isn’t a new thing for me, though. I never much liked people before and now that I’m in college, I’m finding that it’s for good reason. People knock on my door, play their music loudly in public, and ask me invasive questions that I pretend I don’t hear. I shut it out because I need to stay on this new path.

Then I saw her and found myself slipping back into bad habits that I thought I packed away with my black gloves, camouflage scope, and special weapons case. But what’s a reformed assassin going to do when he develops a killer crush?

HAPTER ONE_ DAMAN

“H EY , seatmate, I’m Trinity, but all my friends call me Trin.”

The girl next to me sticks out her hand. I stare at it for a half-second and then return to packing my bag.

Next to me, the girl with the pink lipstick and extra-large forehead gives o an exasperated breath. “I was just being nice. You don’t have to be a prick about it. God.” I zip up the backpack and get to my feet. “Sorry, just plan to study.”

“I am, too,” she insists, jumping to her feet.

Unwillingly, my eyes return to her forehead. She’d be an easy mark. I wouldn’t even need to worry much about the wind cuz the target’s so big. I wrench my eyes away and force myself up the aisle. I’m not that person anymore. The time for looking at people and determining the best way to kill them is past. I’m Daman Patrick, a twenty-five-year-old non-traditional student trying to get his landscaping degree.

I thought about getting into accounting but then remembered all the mob CPAs I o ed in my eight years as a paid assassin. I think the number was around fourteen by my last count but those are old figures. I stopped tallying a couple of years ago because it was messing with my head.

“I wouldn’t have said anything but you were staring at me the entire class. I get that I’m intimidating to people and you’re older, but if you want to buy me a latte or something I’m open.”

Guilt slows my footsteps. I was staring at her, but who wouldn’t? The target landing was as wide as a runway. If I joined one of those killer group chats, her forehead would be the type I’d share. If I did those things, which I didn’t because what a dumbass way to get caught. One time, a couple years ago, Interpol infiltrated a group on Instagram.

Instagram! How fucking dumb could you be? I had to go and kill all of them. He’d paid me a fuckton of money for it and inadvertently jump-started the idea of retirement. He says that’s his biggest regret and if he had to do it all over again, he would’ve hired someone else. I was the best for the job, though, and we both knew it. No one else could’ve carried out the five hits with as much e ciency as I did. To be fair, I caught two of them in bed with each other. It was literally killing two birds with one stone.

“Are you listening? Can you hear me?”

I look down to see the girl at my shoulder. What was her name again? Three? “I heard you, but I don’t drink co ee.”

Her large forehead crinkles into about eight lines. “Your loss, asshole,” she snaps and storms by me.

I scratch my chin. That interaction didn’t go great. Maybe I should’ve bought her a co ee. What did my book on making friends say? Oh, right. Act interested. I try to remember exactly how. The book had examples in it, but I don’t remember a section on how to deal with people you don’t care about. I’ll have to review it at lunch.

I cross the wide, green campus lawn where students sit under the low canopy of the cherry trees. The leaves are falling o and it provides less cover. I always had this love/hate relationship with trees. They provided good cover but also interfered with my long-distance shots, particularly on days that were windy. Wait. Fuck. I’m doing it again. I give myself a mental slap. I’m not an assassin, I remind myself. Every scene I come across doesn’t need to be dissected for sight lines, obstructions, and the best vantage point for a kill shot.

I reach under my fake lenses and rub an eye. This civilian life is harder than I thought it was going to be, but if I don’t make a harder e ort, I won’t blend. And if I don’t blend,

then someone like me will come along and put a bullet in the middle of my forehead.

The cafeteria slash bakery slash co ee shop place in the Anderson Center is packed and loud—so loud, I wish I had my semi-automatic Glock with the thirteen bullet magazine to wipe a few of these shouters out. I’d be doing a favor for the whole of the student union.

“Watch where you’re going, dude,” says a guy sitting at a table to my left. His hand is clutched around a book that I almost knocked o with my hip. There’s a small speaker on his table and music is blaring out of it. If I were that man before, the one who killed for a living, I’d pay myself to o this guy. A speaker in a public place? That should be a firingline o ense. I’ll deal with him later. After ten minutes, I finally get up to order. There are always too many options which I don’t like. Give me a binary choice—co ee or tea; ham sandwich or turkey sandwich. There doesn’t need to be twenty di erent kinds of co ees, cookies, desserts, and sandwiches.

“What do you want?” The student impatiently taps her fingers against the register.

“Co ee and ham sandwich.”

“What do you want on your sandwich?”

“Ham.” The student cocks her head to the side and rolls her eyes.

“Duh. What else?”

“Whatever comes on it.”

“Fine.” She angrily punches in my order. “But you don’t get to come back here and complain about the sandwich having mustard when you don’t want it.”

“I’ll eat the mustard.” I’ve eaten the ham sandwich every lunch since I started two weeks ago. I know what’s on it. I swipe my student card and go stand in another line to wait for my food. A long blond ponytail sways in front of me. I

resist the urge to tug on it, but it’s hard. Maybe the owner senses my yearning because the ponytail whips around and I come face to face with her. I actually lose my balance for a moment and stumble backward.

“Oh no, did I hit you?” she cries out, trying to reach for me. I jerk out of reach.

“No,” I say, almost too harshly.

“Quinn, that’s the asshole from my chem class.” Just past the blonde is large forehead girl.

“Him?” The blonde’s eyebrows arch up. I feel my knees go weak.

“Yeah, he stared at me the entire class and when I invited him for co ee like a decent person, he acted like I’d asked him to kill my dad.”

“Oh, well, I take my sorry back,” the blonde says, her small chin jutting out.

“You can’t,” I find myself saying.

“I can’t what?”

“Take the sorry back. It’s out there. I have it.”

“I can take it back. I was the one who said it in the first place.”

I shake my head. I know I’m not going to have this girl.

Not this one. She’s way too good for me but the sorry? The fact she spoke to me? I’m keeping that. “Nope.”

And then I turn and leave because I can tell if I stayed another minute, I’d throw her over my shoulder and haul her to my apartment and lock her in the safe room that I don’t have but plan to build—immediately.

HAPTER TWO_ UINN

“T HE HANDSOME ONES ARE ALWAYS JERKS ,” Trin says as she steals a French fry from o my tray as they hand it over to me. I nod in agreement as I watch him go, taking my apology with him.

He was handsome. With his dark blue eyes and short dark hair. Paired with the glasses he reminded me a little of Clark Kent. It’s a big campus but I’m surprised I haven’t seen him around. He towered over everyone as he made his exit.

He is hard to miss and not just because of his good looks.

I take notice of other girls checking him out as he passes by.

No wonder Trin has been going on and on about the guy from her chem class.

“He forgot his food,” the boy who looks to be about my age says from behind the counter. His name tag reads Brandon.

“Oh, it looks like he did buy me lunch.” Trin takes the tray with the sandwich on it. “Thanks, Brandon.” She winks at him, making him blush.

“You don’t eat meat,” I remind her. I find myself looking back to see if maybe he remembered he forgot his food and was going to come back for it but I don’t see him anymore.

Something inside of me tells me that I was hoping he would come back for more than the forgotten sandwich. I push that thought away because I’m unsure of what to do with it.

“About that.” Here we go. In the short time I’ve gotten to know Trin, there’s one thing I know for sure. She changes her mind more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. She goes through phases faster than they can come in and out of style. I’m shocked she isn’t done with me yet. I think it’s because she actually likes me and not because she’s stuck

with me as her roommate. “I’m going to give up vegetables now.”

I wonder if she knows that potatoes are vegetables. As her friend, I believe that this is something I should tell her. Or maybe I should let it go so that she stops eating my fries all the time. I weigh my options and decide to keep the information to myself. Even if she really is giving up vegetables, she’ll be back on them tomorrow. She’s an in the moment type of girl. As soon as she sees me eating those mouthwatering, salty French fries, she’ll be stealing them in no time.

“Is this some new diet?” I ask as she finds us an empty table and sits down.

“I’m just fucking with you. I’m not giving up vegetables.”

She steals another fry o my plate. “I forgot about bacon so I’m back on the meat.”

“Who forgets about bacon?” I pick up my cheeseburger, taking a giant bite. I haven't eaten all day. I stayed up way too late last night studying for the Algebra II test I had today.

I slept through my alarm, causing me to run late. I had to skip breakfast in order to be on time for class.

Math is so not my thing. I can’t wait to get my last math credit taken care of. It sucks studying so hard for crap I’m pretty sure I’ll never need. I am a language major. The only math I need to know is how to say my numbers.

“I know, right?” She picks up her stolen sandwich. “I think I dodged a bullet. Who gets mustard on their sandwich?” She drops it back down onto the plate. “He clearly has no taste.” She smirks. I think her ego may have taken a small hit at the gorgeous man's lack of interest in her. She had stomped up to me in the cafeteria and started rambling on about what had happened with some prick as she’d called him from one of her classes.

I was a little surprised myself. Most of the guys here tend to fall all over Trin. She is super outgoing and pretty. She’s got legs for days and shiny hair that she never has to fuss with. She’s not shy in the least and if she wants something she goes for it.

She has no problem telling you exactly how she feels about you, whether it’s good or bad. When it comes to boys, if she likes one, she lets them know. She doesn’t play games or dance around it. I wish I had a tenth of her confidence. I am still feeling a little worked up over the argument I just had over an apology. I keep running the dialogue we had between us through my mind over and over again.

It is really something I’m going to have to work on. I am a freaking language major. I am going to have to learn to talk to others without being so shy. It’s part of why I’ve clung to Trin so much. I transferred here for my last two years. I am thousands of miles away from home and don’t know anyone.

That was the point. To get away and out from under my father. I wanted to start a new path for myself. Spread my wings. Turns out that I’m not so good at it. Trin is still my only friend so far. I didn’t exactly score any brownie points with the handsome guy from earlier either. He probably thinks I’m strange.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that or the last. He didn’t seem to like that I tried to take my apology back either. I shouldn’t care what a stranger thinks anyway, but for some reason I care a tiny bit about what he thought of me. It doesn’t make any sense but I don’t want him to dislike me.

“You think he’ll be mad you stole his sandwich?”

“Who?” She looks up from her phone she’s now playing on, shoving more of my fries into her mouth. I glance at the time, seeing I need to get to my next class.

“How many people’s sandwiches did you steal today?” I shove more of my burger into my mouth. The food here sucks but it beats going o campus. I don’t have a car and the idea of a bus or one of those Lyft things gives me anxiety.

“Oh. Him. I hope so. Serves him right. I can’t wait to thank him for my lunch the next time I see him.” She smirks. I finish chewing the rest of my burger. “I think he’s playing hard to get or something. He’ll be blowing up my phone next week.” She rolls her eyes.

She isn’t wrong. Men are always blowing up her phone.

Yet I never notice her going out with any of them. She flirts and moves on to the next. I think she likes the chase or something. She gets as bored with them as she does with everything else. Still, the idea of him blowing up her phone has me abandoning the rest of my cheeseburger.

“I gotta get to class.”

“I’ll finish this.” She pushes the sandwich tray out of her way, pulling mine over to her. “Don’t forget you promised me you’d go to the Delta Kai party with me tonight.”

“I have no idea what a Delta Kai is and I speak three languages.”

Trin bursts into laughter. “Frat party.”

I groan, grabbing my bag.

“Lots of cute boys.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Good. Maybe she’ll find a new target and give up on Clark Kent. Damn it. I think I’m the one who needs to stop thinking about him. He is a jerk. I don’t date or like jerks I remind myself. I don’t date anyone.

“You promised.”

“I’ll go.” I give her a wave goodbye as I dart out of the building through all the people, heading for my next class. I should go to that party. It’ll be a chance for me to get out there. To do new things and have some fun for once. It isn’t going to kill me.

HAPTER THREE_ DAMAN

“W HEN ARE you going to be done playing around at that college thing and get your ass back to work for me?” barks Mr. Van. It’s not his real name. I label all my hires alphabetically. He wasn’t my first, but I’ve done repeat business with him. He pays well and most of the hits are ones that I would’ve done for free—gun runners and mercenaries with the occasional accountant who tried to run o with his money.

I bite o a piece of electrical tape and wrap the strip around the bare wire. The mic and camera need a source of power so I almost always place my listening devices inside the lamp fixture.

“The course catalog says it’s going to take at least three years.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” my old client screeches into my earpiece.

I wince but I can’t take the headpiece o because I’ve got my perimeter warning alert hooked to it. If someone should walk down the hall toward this apartment, I’ll get notified in time to get out of here.

“No. I’m not.” I climb down o the chair and dust my footprints o . “I told you I’m done with that kind of work.”

“Ha ha. Right. Sell me another bridge in Brooklyn. I’ve got seven cool ones ready to drop into your account. All you need to do is take care of one pesky little problem.”

“Hit up the want ads. I’ve retired.”

“You’re fucking twenty-five. You couldn’t have retired. If you were fifty-five, you couldn’t retire. It’s part of your makeup. When you walk down the street, you probably calculate how many of them you can pop o before someone even realizes a shot’s been fired.”

I open my mouth to deny it but the toolbag at my feet stares at me in silent accusation. I kick the dumb thing shut.

“Gotta go. My professor is calling on me.”

“Are you in motherfucking class—” He might have said more but I hang up on him so I don’t have to hear it.

“I’m not killing anyone,” I say to my bag. “I’m just doing...some background work.”

The thing you need the most as an assassin isn’t good aim or an encyclopedic knowledge of poisons. No. It’s the ability to research. You have to get your mark in the right spot and then anyone with a scope and a long gun can take him out. In order to do that, you have to know your target like you know a lover.

Before I kill anyone, I’ve stalked them for days. I know when they get up, who they’re sleeping with, where they drop o their dry cleaning. And most make it easy for me because people are creatures of habit. They go to work at the same time, eat at the same places, and then return home.

Some go running before they work. Some walk their dog after dinner. But, generally, they all do it at the same time.

Even the rich. Or maybe I should say, especially the rich.

They’re actually the easiest marks because there are so many people involved in a rich person’s life. They’ve got housekeepers and drivers and stylists and assistants.

Someone does their bookwork, another does their shopping.

A good quarter of the hits I’ve completed were done under the guise of being a delivery or repairman.

People will let anyone into their house. For example, here I am ostensibly fixing a leak in apartment 3A on behalf of Anderson Plumbing, but in reality, I’m planting a camera and a mic. I brought four with me but only place three of them—one in the living room, one in the kitchen and one in the hallway. If this girl was a real target, there’d be no

privacy for her. I’d be watching her piss and shower and rub one out. But the bedroom would be a bad place for a camera because if I ever caught her with a guy in here, he’d be dead before he could nut and then I’d be breaking my promise to get out of the game.

I heft the bag over my shoulder, pull my cap down and perform one last sweep of the small apartment before hustling out of there. On my way out, I grab the motion sensor I left in the hall. Back in my own apartment, I log into my cameras. Nothing happens for the first hour and then the next. I wonder if I have the right place and double-check the information I obtained from hacking into the college admissions o ce. No, I’ve got the right place. I push back from my desk and walk over to the co ee maker. It’s almost empty and the co ee is cold but I don’t give a shit. I gulp down the last of the ca eine and set the pot into the sink.

It’s when I return to my desk I realize how di erent my place is from hers. She has a co ee table with stacks of books on it and a colorful blanket tossed over the back of the sofa. I have one black leather sofa and my television is sitting on top of four packing crates. She has pictures on the wall—one of which I used to cover up my camera and mic—and plants in the corner. I don’t have pictures or plants. The large loft apartment with its separate bedroom is barren but for a leather sofa and my large desk with the three computer monitors. The only pictures I’ve ever taken is of a mark. Her kitchen has red things in it—two red plastic chairs for the table, a red co ee maker and red toaster on the counter.

I glare at my stainless steel co ee maker. I should get some color, but not red. Red is...well...I should avoid that. I’ll have to see what her favorite color is. Hopefully not red.

Damn, maybe I should’ve put a camera in her bedroom. It’s really for her own safety. It’s not like an intruder is going to walk in the front door. Smart ones will go in through the

windows. I clap my hands together. Tonight, I’ll add the bedroom camera. The bathroom is unnecessary. At this point, it’s unnecessary. I may have to make adjustments later—-for her sake, of course. Not for mine. In fact, if she’s in bed, I won’t even look at her. I’m just watching the windows and doors. That’s my main concern. Just her safety.

Yup. Yup.

HAPTER FOUR_ UINN

I LIE on the sofa lifting my feet into the air, stretching them out. My thick flu y socks are pulled up to my knees. I say a small prayer that my dad doesn't pick up the phone. It’s Friday and I’m supposed to call every Friday at seven o’clock on the dot or I’ll never hear the end of it. I mean, how many college students are home on a Friday night at that time? I know he does it on purpose to still have some sort of control over my life.

Each call is the same. Him grilling me about changing my major. Reiterating that I should move back home next semester so that I can attend college and still live under his roof. I’ll never understand why he cares so much about where I live. Even when I did live at home he was never there.

“Miss Parson.” Trudy, his assistant, answers the phone.

He must have his calls forwarded to her.

“Hey,” I greet her. She’s worked for my dad for so long that she’s like an aunt to me.

“He’s stuck in a meeting.” She lets out a sigh, clearly not happy with him about missing the call. It’s okay for him to miss this call but if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d never hear the end of it.

“It’s cool.” Why do I feel disappointed? When I called I was hoping he wouldn't answer. It’s probably because once again I’m not a priority to him. I never was and I never will be. I have to learn to accept it.

“How is school?” she asks with genuine concern in her voice. “Are you still liking your roommate?”

“Everything is good. I still suck at math and Trinity hasn’t moved out yet so I’m taking that as a good sign that

she still seems to like me. Don’t tell Dad but she’s dragging me out to a party tonight.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing, Quinn. You should be going out and having fun.” This sofa is fun. It’s comfy like my socks. What happened to the whole Netflix and chill craze? Did I miss that fad? When is Trin going to fall into that one?

“I know. I’m going.” I let out a long sigh, sitting up. “You know I don’t like crowds.” I keep thinking of all the movies I’ve seen. Those frat houses are always crammed with people. The music blaring. It isn’t only the crowds but the idea of being trapped, unable to move.

“Yes, but the best way to get over these things is to face them.”

“Are you going to hold a spider?”

“There is no reason I need to hold a spider. That is not a skill I’ll ever need for everyday life.” I fight a laugh at her stern tone. “You’re a brat.” I sit up laughing, crossing my legs under me.

“I’m going. I might find some hot guy I can bring home on my next break. Surprise Dad. I bet he’d love that.”

“Ha ha. Let’s not push it. Getting him to agree to let you go out of state for college was hard enough.” That had taken both of us. Thank God Trudy is always on my side. She has a way with my dad. She’s the only one that can ever seem to get through to him. “He wants you to call him tomorrow.

Can you swing that?”

“Oh, you know me. My Saturdays are packed full. Let me check my busy social calendar to see if I have an opening.”

“This new college is making you sassy. I like it.” I smile into the phone. “Have fun but be safe. I love you,” she tells me.

“I love you, too.” I end the call. Trin comes bouncing in the front door a minute later.

“You’ve got to get better at locking the door,” she tells me.

“Sorry.” It isn’t a habit I am used to. I also don’t want to admit it wasn't a habit because at home no one could get near our front door. You had to pass through the front gate that had a guard at it. My dad does not mess around when it comes to safety.

“Two girls living together. We have to lock the door.” She turns, flicking the lock. I know she’s right. I’m learning that I’m not the most street smart person. “So what are we wearing?” She drops her bag down at the door.

“Jeans and a shirt?”

“Oh, look at you. Getting wild and not wearing yoga pants.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” Sometimes I’m not actually sure.

“Yes.” She walks over towards me, pulling my hair out of the ponytail I have it in. “Let’s get ready.”

“It’s only seven. Don’t these things start late?” I yawn thinking about it. I should have taken a nap.

“We’re going to eat first.” I perk up at that. Trin has a car which means we can go somewhere good.

“I’ll be ready in five minutes.” I pop up from the sofa. She grabs my arm.

“You’re not getting ready in five minutes.”

“I gotta at least put pants on.” I look down at my bare legs. We don’t have to leave right this second. I’m hungry and all, but pants are a must.

“I meant that it’s going to take us an hour to get ready.” I know this is not a fight I’m going to win. I lean down, grabbing the gummy bears o the co ee table to hold me over.

“You’re going to do my hair and makeup, aren't you?”

She’s been trying to get at me since we moved in together.

It’s not that I don’t like makeup. I just often forget about it.

When I do remember to put some on, it’s usually only a little mascara and lip gloss.

“Oh, by the time I’m done with you you’re going to look damn sexy.”

“How is that di erent from how I look now?” I don’t necessarily think I am sexy but I think I look decent.

“Right now you got that whole adorable thing going on.

That girl next door look.” She pulls me by my arm toward her bedroom. “How do you do walking in heels?”

“I’m actually not too bad,” I admit. I’ve had to go to a few events over the years that my father hosted. Trudy always picked me out something nice to wear. It typically included heels. I actually like them because they make me taller. The problem always was that I didn’t care much for the clothes that were paired with them.

“I’m not talking wedges,” she teases as she sits me down in her makeup chair and turns on the lights that line the mirror, almost blinding me.

“I give. Do with me what you want as long as you take me somewhere good to eat.” I put my hands up in mock surrender.

“Deal. But only after I make you look good enough to eat.

You’ll have the mouths of those boys at that party watering to get a taste of you when I’m finished.”

I’m not so sure I want a boy. The man from the cafeteria today flashes into my mind. He’s been doing that since I saw him. There was nothing about him that even came close to being a boy.

HAPTER FI E_ DAMAN

S OCKS . I suddenly like socks. I open a tab on the browser and search for thick, flu y knee length socks. There’s a lot of choices so I order one of each. She definitely likes color. My eyes drift around my barren apartment. Two clicks and I have a green toaster in my shopping cart. The recommendations tell me I can also buy a green butter knife and then a whole place setting in green. I order it all. I feel accomplished.

Now time to pick out something to wear for dinner. It’ll be the first time we o cially meet so I’ll need to make a good impression with her. It would be good if she’d fall in love with me so I don’t have to kidnap her. I don’t know much about how the whole Stockholm syndrome thing works. Anyone who locked me up has always ended up dying.

I need to avoid that outcome with my girl.

I walk to the closet and throw open my doors. A sea of black confronts me. I rub the back of my hand across my forehead. My former profession didn’t really lend itself to colorful clothing. I pull on a pair of black cargo pants, a thin black turtleneck and top it all with a black leather coat. Even my belt buckle is black. At least I don’t have to worry about everything matching. After pocketing my wallet, I return to the computer and order a pair of green socks. They'll get here tomorrow. All I have to do is not mess up tonight and when I see her again, I can be decked out in things she likes.

My footsteps echo against the concrete floor as I head back to the computer to figure out the restaurant they’re going to. A man has to eat, after all. I’m not prepared for what’s on my screen. I take one look and grab my knife. And my gun. What my girl is wearing is illegal. Or should be illegal. High heels, short and tight skirt, a ripped T-shirt

held together on the side and the shoulder with two knots I could slice o before she could voice a protest. Hell, a sti breeze could probably render her tits out in a half second or less. I should’ve put a speaker in the ceiling because then I could’ve been her conscience telling her that going out dressed like this was going to cause problems. A glance down at the way my cock is filling up my loose cargo paints is exhibit A. Red blurs my vision as I think of all the other men who are going to have the same exact reaction and then I’m going to have to kill them. For their own safety, I need my girl to wear di erent clothes. Or, better yet, stay inside. I head back for the closet. They’re going to have a sudden electrical problem only I can fix. For that, I’ll need my uniform.

Halfway to the wardrobe, there’s a loud knock on my door. More of a pounding. I ignore it, but the pounding continues, followed by a mu ed shout, “Yo, Daman, I need to talk to you. It’s an emergency!”

Reluctantly, I redirect my course, dropping the knife and gun into a drawer by the front door. My neighbor, Flip, tumbles in as I open the door.

“Thanks, man.” He holds up a bowl. “You got some extra co ee beans? I’m all out.”

I nearly slam his face into the table holding my gun and knife. “Co ee?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a little honey coming over and her favorite thing is co ee and hot chocolate. She drinks it every night before she goes to bed. I picked up some hot chocolate packets and was going to use my roommate’s co ee but he’s all out. You gotta save me. I haven’t had sex in like two weeks and if I don’t get some action tonight, my balls will fall o .”

I push my neighbor out the door. “No. It won’t.” I’ve never had sex and my organs are all in working order.

Running around and killing people isn’t a good environment for one-night stands or long-term relationships. You never know if the person in your bed tonight is someone who is going to be a target tomorrow.

“You don’t know that!” He pushes back.

“I do.” I start to close the door.

“Please. I’ll do anything.”

I pause. What was Flip wearing again? I let the door swing open again and inspect my neighbor. He’s got a pair of jeans on with tears on the thigh and the knee. A white buttondown shirt with yellow trim on the collar and cu s hangs open over an untucked pale yellow T-shirt. He’s thicker around the waist than me, but a belt could solve a lot of problems.

“Take o your clothes and I’ll give you the co ee.”

“What?” His eyebrows crash together. “What?”

I repeat myself. Slowly.

While he scratches the side of his head, I take the bowl from him. I place the nearly full bag of dark roast in it and return. He hasn't taken o one piece of clothing. One thing that never fails to surprise me is how dumb all these college students are. I don’t ever remember being this stupid. I guess that’s what having money does to you.

“Take o your clothes.”

“I—look, man—you’re decent looking and all and I’m flattered, but I don’t swing that way—” I grab my wallet and pull out two large bills. “Take. O .

Your. Clothes.”

His eyes bounce from the cash to my face and back again.

A second later, he’s stripping.

“Whoa. Whoa.” I grab the hand that’s about to pull o his boxers. “I don’t need your underwear.”

“Okay, man. Your call. Do you think you should close the door because I’m not much into exhibitionism?” His eyes fall

to the cash. “Then again, for the right money I could hop around in a bunny costume and call you Daddy if that’s what you’re into.”

“What? No.” I drop the cash into the bowl and shove it into his arms. “Go. This is all I need.” I toe the clothes on the ground.

“Really? You just wanted my clothes?” He gapes.

“I said that.”

“I didn’t believe it.”

“I know.”

“Okay. That’s cool. Let’s just forget what I said about the bunny costume, heh?”

I push Flip out the door. “It’s forgotten.”

“Unless that’s something you’re into,” he yells over his shoulder. “I’m open to negotiations!”

I let the door shut in his face. All right, Quinn. Hold on.

I’m coming to save you and the entire male population in a five-mile radius.

HAPTER SIX_ UINN

I STEP out of the car, having to pull my skirt down again. The thing keeps riding up on me. It could be the fact that it’s one size too small for me, making it shorter than it’s intended to be.

“Stop fidgeting with your skirt. You look hot as hell.” I reach up, tucking my hair behind my ear. I’m not used to wearing it down. It always seems to fall in my face when I am looking down to read something or study. Sometimes I feel as though I’m the only person that has this problem. I see people wearing their hair down all the time and it doesn’t seem to bother them as much as it does me.

“How come you get to wear pants and cover up?”

“Could you see yourself wearing these?”

I shake my head no. “I’d go to sit down and they would probably rip at the seams.” I didn't know that black leather pants were back in style. It doesn't really matter if they are or not because Trin looks smoking hot wearing them. But that’s the case with most things she wears.

“Come on. Let’s get some food so we can get to the party.” I follow her into the diner. I’ve never been to this one before. I have to say one of my favorite things about this town is there are diners everywhere. We don’t have them back home. They have everything you can think of on the menu. It’s wonderful.

“Sit anywhere you’d like. Someone will be over with the menus in a minute.” The woman behind the counter calls out to us. I follow behind Trin so I can pull on my skirt again.

I swear someone is going to see my underwear. I should have never agreed to wear this. It’s not my usual getup and I’m uncomfortable.

She slips into one side of a booth. I slide into the other, grabbing one of the menus.

“I’m ordering tru e fries and I’m not sharing so if you want some you better order your own.”

“Fine,” Trin hu s. I think she has it in her head that the food she steals o my plate doesn't count toward her calories. I don’t know why she even diets. She’s rail thin. All of her weight has gone to her boobs. I haven't gotten up the courage to ask her if they are real or not. I wasn't sure if she would think it was rude or something. So I’ve held back.

Anyway, that’s her business but I am curious.

“You ladies know what you want?” the woman that was behind the counter asks. Her name tag reads Betty.

“I want a strawberry shake.”

“I’ll take a Diet Coke and water please.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m still looking but can we go ahead and place an order for two tru e fries?” I ask.

“Yep.” She scribbles it all down in her notepad. “I’ll get that in for you and get your drinks.” She heads back behind the counter.

“What are you thinking?” While I love all the options you get at a diner, it can be overwhelming because I tend to want everything. Especially when I’m hungry like I am now.

“Salad.” She closes her menu, putting it back into the holder.

“A salad?” I scrunch my nose, hating her choice. With so many good things on the menu, why the heck does she have to pick a salad? That means she’ll be trying to take stu from my plate.

“We got fries, too.”

A few moments later Betty is back with our drinks. “You know what you want?”

“A salad for me. No dressing.”

“No dressing? I think there is something seriously wrong with you.” Betty chuckles.

“I’ll take the open face meatloaf with mashed potatoes,” I say.

“Got it. What kind of vegetables do you want? We got corn, mixed and peas.”

“I’ll have the corn.” My mouth waters thinking about mixing my corn into my potatoes.

“I’ll be back with your fries in a minute.”

“How do you eat a salad with no dressing?”

“If you had a mom like mine you’d understand.” I try not to wince. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Quinn, I forgot. I’m such an idiot sometimes,” Trin says feeling bad that she brought the mom thing up.

“It’s fine. It’s not like I knew the woman anyway. I can’t really miss her.” My dad always told me she died. It wasn't until I was about fourteen and I started snooping around I found out he was lying. She took o on us. I wonder if it’s because my dad tends to be a little overbearing or maybe her running o has made him that way. I guess I’ll never know. I never plan on looking for her.

“Two orders of tru e fries.” Betty drops the plates down.

I grab the ketchup, smothering mine with it before taking a giant sip of my milkshake. This is so much better than the school food. If I knew how to cook, I could make more stu at home. It was never a skill I picked up. Everything we ate growing up was takeout.

I let out a small moan as I take my first bite. “This was so worth letting you dress me up.” Trin laughs, nibbling at her own fry. I think Trin’s mom is always on her about appearances. I think that’s why she’s always doing these crazy diets. She is gorgeous. I’ll never understand it.

The bell over the diner door jingles, announcing that someone has entered. I glance up, freezing with the fry

halfway to my mouth. Oh crap. It’s him. Trin must see the look on my face because she turns to see what I’m staring at.

“Don’t look,” I hiss at her. She’s going to give away the fact that I’m staring. I can’t help myself. I've been thinking about him all day. For some reason I can’t get him out of my head. I know what that reason is: the man is drop dead gorgeous.

“Who cares that he’s a dick?” She rolls her eyes, looking back at me. “Wait. Your cheeks are all pink and it’s not the blush I put on you. Are you crushing on Mr. Asshole?”

“He did buy you a sandwich,” I remind her.

“It sucked.” He turns his eyes, locking them right on me.

“He’s coming this way,” I say, not moving my lips. He stops at our table. I have to tilt my head all the way back to get a good look at him.

“Can I join you?” he asks, taking me by surprise.

“Are you going to give me my sorry back?” I find myself teasing him. His lips twitch, making him look even sexier.

“I jacked your sandwich. It was terrible.” He shrugs, not caring about anything Trin is saying. His eyes remain trained right on me. My body starts to heat.

“If I give it back are you going to let me join you?”

“Sit,” Trin says before I can respond, pointing to my side of the booth. “If you’re trying to get into Quinn's pants, I suggest you don’t eat her fries.”

“Trin,” I hiss at her. My whole face feels as though it’s on fire. He leans back, putting his arm on the back of the booth.

He’s not touching me but he’s pretty freaking close. “You going to tell me your name?”

“Daman.”

“See? Was that so freaking hard?” Trin says, throwing her hands up. Betty comes over, dropping o our plates.

“I’m Quinn,” I tell him, putting my hand out for him to shake. He takes it but doesn’t let it go. Instead he weaves his

fingers through mine.

“Can I get you anything?” she asks Daman.

“I’m good.” Still he doesn't even look at Betty. His eyes stay trained on me.

“If you didn’t come here for food than what are you doing here?” Trin asks. I hadn't even thought of that.

“I saw her through the window.”

“So you came in to see me?”

“Yes.” I’m not sure what else to say so I use my free hand to take a bite of my meatloaf. Trin digs into her salad. I try to free my hand but he doesn’t budge. I keep peeking over at him and notice that if he isn't looking at me then he’s checking the door.

“We’re going to a party after this. Do you want to come with us?” I o er. I’m pretty sure he has a thing for me. He’s not super talkative but he came inside to see me and he’s holding my hand. Some people might think it’s strange but I’m enjoying it. All of this has to mean something.

“Yes, I’ll be coming with you.” He lets my hand go momentarily to pull out his wallet. He tosses a hundred on the table.

“Let’s roll.” Trin slides out of the booth. Daman begins to follow suit. I tug on his hand, letting him know I need mine for a moment. He obliges. I slowly slide out. I stand, pulling my skirt down as far as I can. “You drive here?”

Daman nods his answer to Trin before he grasps my hand again.

“Cool.” She looks over to me. “You’re riding with him.”

“What?”

“He’s totally hitting on you.” She says this like Daman isn't standing right here. “Your ass better meet me at the party. You don’t want me to come looking for you.” Trin

gives him a hard look before heading toward her car, leaving me alone with Daman.

I wrap my arms around myself, having no idea what I’m doing here. I never dated in high school. It was forbidden.

Now I’m at a total loss for what I’m supposed to do. Daman takes o his leather jacket, wrapping it around me.

“Thanks.”

He takes my hand, his fingers tangling with mine as he leads me toward some fancy-looking car, opening the door for me. I slip inside. My heart is racing. Why am I so into this guy? I don’t even know him. Yet I feel a pull toward him that I can’t explain.

He hops into the driver's seat. “Seatbelt, babe.” He reaches over, grabbing it for me while clicking it into place. I lick my lips. His eyes flick there.

“Which frat house is having the party tonight?”

“Delta Kai.” He shakes his head, not looking so happy about it. I should tell him he doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to but I don’t. I think he’s going to make this party a lot more bearable for me. I should be worried because I don’t know him and he’s a stranger but I’m not. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? He could kidnap me?

HAPTER SE EN_ DAMAN

I’ M what you call a non-trad or non-traditional student. My advisor told me this when I started classes a month ago. She also told me that I might feel disconnected from my classmates who are younger and dumber. She didn’t add the last part. It was just my characterization of the whole thing after she spent about ten minutes talking about all the things teens these days don’t understand. After the spiel, she handed me her card and told me to call her anytime. She even wrote her home phone number down, which I thought was weird.

She wasn’t wrong. My classes are filled with kids whose parents are footing the bill for their college gig so they play games, watch porn, or update their socials instead of paying attention. I don’t have a single thing in common with ninety-nine percent of them. But I know them. I know that underneath their white smiles and three-hundred-dollar hoodies, they’re all terrified. The weird thing is that they’re not afraid of the right things. Take Quinn here. She shouldn’t have gotten into a car with a stranger and she shouldn’t be going to frat parties. Bad things happen there and I’m not about to let my girl be exposed to any of that shit. I make up my mind. I’m going to have to kidnap Quinn. The house isn’t ready but that’s beside the point. She can’t go to a frat party.

“So you know they call this place the rape house, right?”

“They what?” she yelps.

“Yeah, sorry to say that.” I don’t know that it’s true but I watched every college set movie that Hollywood put out in the last twenty years in prep for enrollment and it was true in almost all of them.

“My God. I have to text Trin.”

Out of the periphery of my vision, I catch her whipping out her phone and tapping furiously into it.

“Trin says that these guys have a great reputation.”

My car rolls to a stop at the red light. I give a little shrug as if I don’t care. “Your call.”

It’s dark in the interior of the car but I don’t need any illumination to remember what she looks like in that short skirt and the high heels. Her legs looked like they went on forever, a long, creamy expense of skin that begged for my touch. Her tits were completely covered but one look at her chest made my mouth water. She’s more beautiful than any painting and I’m torn between wanting to put her on a pedestal and worship her daily and taking her to the floor and violating her in every way known to man and a few that I’ve been making up in my head in the last few hours. And if I feel this way I know other men do, too. There’s no way she’s going to that party.

“Is it just a party that you want? Because I can host a party.” Other than my neighbor and the cleaning lady, no one else has stepped foot in my apartment. The only time I’ve ever been to parties has been to kill someone. The last one I attended, I strangled the heir to a drug kingdom in Belize while some opera singer from Italy sang "Cortigiani, vil razza dannata” which is appropriate because one line from it goes, “That door, assassins, open it.”

The Italians were really into their murders. Good people, those Europeans. They knew how to get things done. The light turns green and we take o .

“I mean…” She hesitates.

That’s my opening. “I’ve got booze, guys, an empty apartment.”

“No rapes?”

“No. Those aren’t allowed.”

“Let me call Trin. I don’t want her texting and driving.”

“Sounds perfect. I live o of Continental in the Maple Apartments.”

“Hey, Trin, how about we go to a party at Daman’s place?

He lives at the Maple...Yeah, the Maple o of Continental. He says that there are a bunch of guys who live around him.”

My fingers curl around the steering wheel as Quinn listens to the other girl talk. I need to bug Quinn’s phone. I don’t like not knowing shit. That’s not how I operate.

“Okay, she’s in.”

I try not to be too obvious about my relief. “Great. Now I don’t have to kidnap you.”

She giggles but the pretty sound shuts o quick. I take my eyes o the road to check out her expression.

“You were kidding, right?”

Oh. I was supposed to laugh with her. I force out a chuckle. “Yeah. Of course,” I lie.

We make a detour to pick up booze. “I need to make a call first. Can you start shopping?”

“What should I get?”

This is the first time I’ve ever held a party. “Buy one of everything.”

“Everything?”

“Whatever you can fit in this cart.” I shake a metal one loose. “Go on. I’ll help in a second.”

“This is going to be expensive,” she worries.

“Can’t have a good time stressing about the cost,” I tell her and give her a small nudge.

I watch her ass sway as she toddles into the liquor store, leaning on the shopping cart. A sudden vision of me bending her over a table and fucking her from behind makes me weak in the knees. I force the image out of my head and call Flip.

He answers quickly.

“Wassup?”

“Flip. It’s your neighbor, Daman. How are you and your…” What had he called her? Oh, yeah, honey. “What’s up with your honey?”

“Not much. We’re just chilling. How’d you get my number?”

“You gave it to me,” I lie. I ran a background check on everyone in the building. I suspect I know more about Flip than his roommates.

“Huh. I guess I did. Anyway, what do you need?”

“We’re having a party. Get all your friends and go to my apartment. I’m bringing the booze.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“Man I feel bad. If I had known you were a partier, I’d invited you to one of our ragers but you seemed like you weren’t interested.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh.” “But now I’m hosting a party and I want a lot of people there. I’ll pay you a hundred dollars for every person you bring.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“No.” “Fuck. Okay, I’m on it. How much time do I have?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“I hope your wallet is thick,” he sings into the phone.

I tuck the phone away and join Quinn inside.

“Work everything out?” she chirps.

I reach up and cup her cheek. “Almost. It’s almost perfect.”

HAPTER EIGHT_ UINN

“T HIS IS A LOT OF FOOD .” Daman pushes the cart for me. It has so much stu in it that it’s hard to even turn the thing.

Daman keeps grabbing random things and tossing them into the cart. I notice if my eyes linger on something for more than a few seconds, into the cart it goes.

“Don’t want to run out, do we?”

“I guess not.” This has somehow turned from his party into our party. “I’ve never been to a party before,” I admit.

I’ve definitely never hosted one before. “I’m not sure what we need. Unless you count those charity functions my dad sometimes drags me to.”

“I’m not into parties either.” My eyes go to the frosted cookies that are covered in sprinkles. My mouth waters thinking about them being a late-night snack. I divert my attention away from them but before I know it, Daman grabs them and tosses them into the cart.

“You don’t want to throw this party, do you?” I peek over at him.

“Yes, I do.”

I turn to look at him, putting my hands on my hips.

“That does not sound very convincing.”

“I want to have the party because you’ll come over and I’ll know you’re safe.”

I smile up at him. That’s really sweet. I’m not sure if he’s right about the whole rape thing, but I do want to see Daman’s place. I wasn’t excited about going to that frat party to begin with, but now excitement fills me thinking about having a party at Daman’s.

“I think we got enough stu .” He heads toward the front of the store. I pull on the bottom of my skirt, feeling really overdressed for a grocery store. I start to take things out of

the cart, leaning over to place them on the checkout belt.

Before I can get more than a few items on it, Daman is ushering me over to the end of the line.

“Why don’t you watch to see if everything is ringing up correctly? I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

I shrug my shoulders and keep an eye on the cashier’s screen, watching the total tick up higher by the second.

“Are you sure you really want to get all of this?” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. He already admitted to only having a party because he wanted me to come over. So that he would know that I am safe. Now he is spending an arm and a leg to make that happen. He reaches up, pulling my lip out from between my teeth.

“Don’t bite yourself.” I lick my lips. “I can a ord it.” He pulls out his wallet. I step to the side so he can slide his card through the machine.

“Some party you must be having,” the cashier says. I notice her eyes eat up Daman. I turn to look away, not wanting anyone to see that it irritates me. Daman isn’t mine so I’m not sure why I’m letting it bother me. If another girl wants to look at him, she can. There aren’t any rules against it. He doesn’t have a ring on his finger.

“Yes, we are having a party,” Daman answers. I peek back to the girl. Her red curly hair is piled on top of her head. I know she’s waiting for an invite. Daman doesn’t issue one.

He stands there looking bored instead.

“I need your ID.” He reaches back into his wallet, handing it over to her.

“Is this where the party is?”

My mouth falls open at her audacity. She totally just read the address o his license. How rude and unprofessional is that? Daman takes his ID back as she starts to scan the alcohol. I had no idea what to get. I picked up everything that

looked fruity and a couple bottles of champagne that were covered in glitter.

She rattles o the total as she starts to bag some of the stu . I pick it up, putting it into the cart. The bagger helps me. “I got it,” Daman tells the boy. “I’ll help her.” He moves to take his spot, bagging up the groceries himself.

“So do you mind if I pop in? I get o in an hour.” She smiles at Daman as if I’m not even here.

“Sure.” He shrugs, placing the last bag into the cart. I stand there, shocked. He looks over to me. “Did we forget something?”

I shake my head no. He studies my face for a moment. I turn without speaking another word to him. I head toward the door, not wanting him to know how badly his approval had stung.

“Get in. It’s cold.” He unlocks the doors before he pops the truck, loading everything inside. I slip into the car, putting my seatbelt on. A moment later Daman is in the car pulling out of the parking lot. I don’t even look at him. I stare out the passenger window watching the landscape pass by.

“Are you not excited for the party anymore?” I shrug, still not turning towards him. “Is this the silent treatment I hear that women give?”

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I’m fine.”

“Fine? I heard that’s worse than the silent treatment.”

A small laugh escapes me.

“Did I do something wrong?” He reaches over, taking my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine. I can’t help but notice how small and delicate my own hand looks next to his.

“No. I don’t think you did anything wrong.” I finally look over at him.

“But something is bothering you?” Oh God. He’s going to make me say it. I’m going to look like a crazy jealous

girlfriend. I’m not even his girlfriend! He’s going to think that I’m a complete nutcase. I’ve known him for all of an hour and I’m acting as though we’ve been dating for years.

“She was hitting on you,” I finally admit. He glances over at me, looking adorably confused. “The cashier,” I say because he can’t be that oblivious to it.

“The one who wants to come to the party?”

“Yes. She was checking you out and then she got your address from your driver’s license like a crazy person.”

Okay, I might be the crazy person getting jealous, but he asked and now it’s all vomiting out of my mouth.

“She will not be coming. She was only making conversation.” For someone that seems so sure of himself, he doesn’t pick up on social cues very well. How the heck did he miss her throwing herself at him?

“Trust me. She’s coming.” I try and pull my hand from his, but he doesn't let go.

“That isn’t my address on my driver’s license. I never updated it when I moved.”

“Oh.” Is all I can think to say. He lifts my hand, kissing the back of it and making my insides melt.

“The only person I care to have coming is you.” He sends me a wicked smile that heats my entire body. This time I squeeze his hand tighter, turning to look out the window so he doesn't see me blush. I’m thinking maybe parties aren't so bad after all.

HAPTER NINE_ DAMAN

I’ M REALLY proud of myself. I didn’t pull o at any point and attack her even though her sexy bare legs taunted me at every stoplight. I also didn’t come in my pants although my dick is hard enough to punch a hole through the door. I spend most of the drive thinking of gruesome things (and I have plenty of source material) so by the time we reach my apartment building, I don’t have a log in my borrowed jeans.

The wind bites at my exposed knees when I climb out of the car. I don’t know why anyone purposely buys clothes with rips in them.

I grab all the booze. Twenty bottles is kind of heavy but I refuse help from both Quinn and her friend, Trin.

“I wish you’d let me carry something,” Quinn says for the fifth time as we step o the elevator. “I’m super strong.”

She curls her arm up.

Cute, I think a bit miserably. I’m about to bring the girl of my dreams into my apartment and it is full of strangers. I didn’t think this through. Am I dumb or what?

“Okay. You can carry everything if you feel that strongly about it,” she says.

I realize I’m frowning. I quickly rearrange my face so that I don’t look pissed. “I’d have to shoot my arm o if I let you carry anything heavier than a Kleenex. Come on. It sounds like they are tearing my place apart. I need to check out the damage.”

The three of us troop down the hall toward my noisy apartment. The door is wide open and the moment I step in, Flip comes running toward me. “Tell me you bought a keg.”

“Holy shit,” declares Trin. “This is lit!” She grabs Quinn’s hand and drags my girl into the crowd, leaving me

standing at the entry with two heavy bags of liquor. Flip takes one and peaks inside.

He lets out a low whistle. “Shit, this is some premium stu . Let’s stash this in my apartment and order a couple of kegs.”

He starts for the door and I have to grab his collar—on the turtleneck that used to be mine—and drag him back. I’m not stepping foot outside my apartment until I have Quinn.

“You said to get liquor and I got liquor.” I muscle my way through the crowd to the kitchen where two girls are standing on the concrete counters dancing. I can see their underwear. I think one might not be wearing underwear.

This was a mistake. I dump the booze into the sink and turn around to grab Quinn. We can go to a hotel or sit in my truck until the place clears out. Instead of my girl, I find Flip.

“You definitely bought got some quality booze here but I don’t think it’s enough. We need a keg.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

Flip’s jaw drops. “You don’t know what a keg is? Like I knew you were old, but I didn’t know you were that old.”

“Leave him alone,” chirps Quinn.

I find her right at my elbow with her chin out and her eyes flashing. She’s like a small terrier, ready to fight on my behalf. If I wasn’t in love with her before, I would be now.

“Yeah, leave me alone.”

Flip makes a face. “I can’t serve top shelf booze to all these people. We’ll run out after one round of shots.”

“Then get a keg.” I pull out my credit card. “Buy whatever you want.” Flip reaches up to snatch the card out of my hand, but I pull it away. “First, you have to promise to watch over Trin.” I dip my head toward Quinn’s roommate.

“No one spikes her drink. No one touches her without her permission. She gets as drunk as she wants and she spends the night alone. If I hear that she was made unhappy in any

way, it will be your fault and I will come back and kill you slowly and painfully.”

Flip stares at me for a long silent moment and then busts out laughing. “Fuck. You can be scary when you want.” He takes the card. “No problem. I got it covered. What’s my limit?”

“No limit as long as you follow the rules.” I clasp Quinn’s hand in mine. “Let’s go.” I don’t wait for her to agree; I just start moving and I don’t stop until I reach the elevator.

“I’m trying to figure out why you hosted a party at your apartment when you hate them,” Quinn says in a low voice as I jab the down button with unnecessary force.

“Because I didn’t want you to go to the frat party.” The elevator doors slide open and I drag Quinn inside. Once the doors shut and the noise recedes, I allow myself to relax against the wall of the cab.

Quinn tilts her head to the side as she studies me. “Do you really not know what a keg is or were you pulling Flip’s leg?”

“I don’t know. This is my first year of college.”

“Oh. A non-trad?” She doesn’t say it with any judgment.

I nod. “Yeah. I had a job before and decided it wasn’t for me so I quit and enrolled.”

“I’m a junior.”

I don’t say I know because she might find that creepy.

“I think it’s cool you’re coming back to school. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.” I feel eighty sometimes. Killing wears you down. Or maybe it’s more like killing erases all your ideals.

Everyone is dirty; no one really lives a worthy life. You get up; you eat; you die. That’s what life boils down to. Except Quinn here makes me want to rethink things. There’s something in her face, something beyond just prettiness, that makes me want to unravel her until I can see the inside.

She’s got something I need, something alive.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asks.

“Because you’re so fucking beautiful, why else?”

She averts her face in embarrassment. “I’m pretty at best but definitely not beautiful.”

I shoot forward and slap my hand across the red button, bringing the elevator to a screeching halt. “Who told you that?” I demand, towering over her. Someone’s going to die.

I just need a name.

“Told me what?” Her eyes dart to the elevator button.

“Who told you that you weren’t beautiful?”

“I’m just not.” She seems confused.

“Then you’re blind.” I put my fist under her chin. “You’re the most beautiful thing walking on this earth. Pretty sure if you weren’t here, there wouldn’t be any reason for any other living thing to exist.”

Her mouth parts and maybe she was going to say something but I can’t stop my head from descending. I can’t stop myself from sealing my lips across hers. I can’t stop my tongue from diving between her lips. I can’t stop kissing her.

All my life, I chased death but now I want to live.

HAPTER TEN_ UINN

I GASP into his mouth as he lifts me o my feet. His mouth remains on mine. This doesn’t feel as though it’s a normal kiss but a claiming of sorts. Not that I would really know.

I’ve never had anyone kiss me this way before. I can’t put into words what it feels like. I know that I feel it way down to my soul as his mouth continues to move over mine.

I wrap my arms around him, kissing him back with everything I have. I had no idea when tonight started that this is where it was headed or where I would end up. It’s also hard for me to believe this is the same guy Trin called a dick.

He’s gone out of his way at every turn to make me happy. I should have known that I was a goner the first time those blue eyes locked with mine.

I push my chest into him. A small moan comes from my mouth. He matches mine with a groan that rumbles throughout my body. His hand digs into my hair. I wiggle against him, needing friction. My whole body throbs with a need that I’ve never felt before. I want more of him. Scratch that, I want all of him. The urgency to have him is something I don’t quite understand yet, but I’m not willing to deny either.

“Daman.” I moan his name as I pull back from the kiss.

His face remains the same. Unreadable.

“Not here. I’m sorry.” He sets me back on my feet. I lick my lips, suddenly feeling shy again. Is he having second thoughts? He reaches down, pulling my bunched-up skirt down little by little.

It’s not like it’s going to take him long based on how tiny it is. Realization hits me that my panties have been on full display during our kissing session. My face heats as I watch him finish fixing my skirt until it’s in its right place.

“Did you want to go back to your party?” Did I maul him so much that he is willing to run back into the party he was trying to escape a moment ago?

“No.” His answer is definitive. He hits the red button, causing the elevator to descend. “I want to spend more time with you.”

I smile up at him. “I want that, too.” I reach for his arm, locking mine around it. I see couples on campus do it all the time. “Can we go to my place? I’d love to get out of these clothes.” I pull at my shirt. Wouldn’t mind washing my face o either. I just want to be myself around him. Nothing between us. Not even a layer of makeup. There aren't many people who get to see the real me. For some reason, I want to make sure that he’s one of them.

“You look beautiful but I’m not going to lie, I hate your outfit.”

“Really?” I laugh. “I thought I saw you staring at my legs.”

He pulls his arm closer into himself, making me rub into his side. “I only like looking at your legs.” I have to smirk as he opens the car door for me, liking his jealousy. Now I don’t feel so bad about my own. He slides into the driver's seat, taking o toward my place.

“You sure you’re okay leaving all those people in your place?” I feel bad. He invited all of those people there to try to give me a party in a safe environment and now we’ve ditched it. All of those strangers are now occupying his apartment. What if they trash the place or even worse, rob it?

“I’ve got it locked down. Don’t worry.” He acts so casual about it that I let it go for now. A lot of things feel relaxed about him. Things that would worry me don’t seem to bother him in the least. Yet other times I feel him sti en up over the strangest things. I can’t get any kind of read on him. He’s mysterious and it makes me want to know more about him.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re going the right way,” I tell him as we head closer to campus. “I’m in the Twin Peaks.” He nods, finding it without me giving him directions. He pulls straight into Trin’s normal parking spot. How lucky is that? All the parking spots here and he picked the right one on the first try.

“Let me.” He squeezes my leg before hopping out and opening the door for me. He holds his hand out to help me to my feet. It’s been awhile since I’ve worn heels and they are starting to hurt.

I lean into him, trying to get some kind of relief for my feet. This time I rest the side of my face on his arm as we head toward my door. I reach into my small purse, pulling out my phone first. Daman takes it from my hand so I can keep digging for my keys.

“You need more light here,” Daman comments, looking up and down my hallway. I finally find my keys and open our apartment door. I can’t remember if we left it a mess or not.

Luckily, when I open the door the place doesn't look a total mess. I hang my purse up, slipping out of my heels. Daman turns, locking the door behind me.

“There are doors that will auto lock for you. I will look into it for you.” He nods as if the conversation is over. I truly don’t think he’s trying to be rude. I almost feel like a kindred spirit with him sometimes, neither one of us coming o the right way at times.

“Trin would love that. She’s always on me about locking it.” He stands there watching me. I’m not really sure what to do next. I want to jump right back into what we were doing in the elevator. “I’m going to change. Make yourself at home.”

I slip down the hallway into my room. The first thing I do is pull the freaking uncomfortable skirt and panties o . Next

I go for my top and bra that feel like torture devices. Whose boobs actually need to be pushed up that high?

I snag my normal yoga pants from out of my dresser and my favorite knitted sweater, pulling it over my head. Last but not least, I put my socks on. I always have to wear socks when I’m home. My toes are always getting cold. When I finally make it to the bathroom, I wash o all the makeup that Trin put on my face. I pull my hair up on top of my head and sigh, feeling like myself once again.

I stare in the mirror. I have a man out in my living room waiting for me. While I feel shy, I’m also excited. I smile. I am going to be bold. You’re so fucking beautiful he’d said to me. The idea of someone else not thinking it had ba ed him.

With every word he said I felt not only beautiful but sexy. I’m feeling things I’ve never felt in my whole life.

I flip o the bathroom light heading straight for the living room. Daman starts to stand but I hold my hand out to stop him.

“I should o er you a drink.” My hand meets his chest. He lets me push him back. I fall into his lap, my legs spreading wide to straddle his thick thighs. “But I really want to do this instead.” I lean forward, digging my fingers into his hair and kiss him the same way he’d kissed me earlier.

HAPTER ELE EN_ DAMAN

I PULLED o my first hit perfectly. My trainer said it was beginner’s luck and that I would have problems in the future.

Don't get cocky, he warned me. There are some things that you have an a nity for, something that you're better at than anyone else just because the universe has said this is how it’s going to be.

I feel that way now. With the freshly scrubbed Quinn planted in my lap, her fingers scraping across my scalp, her lips fused to mine, I feel like I can make her happy, make her laugh, make her come better than anyone else in the world.

I grab her hips and drag her closer until my jean-covered dick is notched into her cloth-covered pussy. There are so many damn things separating us. I tug at her sweater and then the waistband of her pants. I can’t make up my mind what I want to touch the most. Her ass is ripe. Her tits are juicy. Even stroking the back of her neck makes me wild.

She pulls her mouth away and I hear a needy plea, only to realize that’s me.

“Babe—” “Shhh,” she says, her finger at my mouth. And then her sweater comes o and her tits are bouncing free and every lucid thought zips right out of my head. I’m capable of three words now. Tit. Now. Mouth.

I guess I say them out loud because she lifts one plump peach and directs it right to my face. I latch on, sucking hard on the nipple. It’s her turn to moan. Her fingers reattach themselves to the side of my skull and pull me closer. I suck harder, drawing deep as if I could pull her orgasm from her with just my tongue wrapped around her fat nipple.

“Daman, I—“ She cuts herself o and pushes me backward.

Yeah, exactly. Neither of us know what to say but we know what we want. I move lower, kissing a trail down the center of her abdomen. We tug, pull, and tear at her pants until she’s free of everything but her fuzzy socks. The socks can stay on. What do I care now that my mouth is level with her sweet pussy? I suck in a deep breath and attack her. Her little clit is pert and hard but her cunt is soft and wet. I dive into it, hardening my tongue so I can fuck her with my mouth. She reaches down to rub her clit but I move her hand away.

“Mine,” I growl. She had years to play with herself. It’s my turn now. I rub her little clit, scissor a pair of fingers into her hot pussy and eat her until she creams all over my tongue.

My dick is so hard it hurts. I need inside of her. I’m going to die if I don’t get inside of her. Ironic that my last kill is my own.

“You ready for some cock, babe?”

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

I fumble with my zipper but manage to get my dick out before breaking it in two. I’d have kept my jeans on but Quinn keeps pulling at them. I kick them and test her readiness.

She hisses at the penetration of my fingers.

“Ready?” I ask again.

She gives me a small nod. I fit the head of my aching cock to her small entrance and ease in, but she’s tight. Almost too tight. I freeze and my eyes fly to meet hers. “Babe?”

Quinn grimaces, gnaws at the corner of her lip, and says, “I’m a virgin.”

“Yeah. I figured. Your pussy is stressed right now.”

A giggle escapes her lips. “Stressed?”

“Stressed,” I a rm. “Your little kitty isn’t sure it wants to be invaded.”

“Oh, she wants it.” Quinn lifts her sock-covered heels and presses them against my ass. “Are you going to make me beg for it?”

My dick twitches at that idea. “I mean, is that an option?”

The giggle turns into a full-fledged laugh. “Does begging turn you on?” She grins.

“I don’t know. We should test it out.” I press forward and her body relaxes slightly, accepting another inch of my hard shaft.

Her laughter turns into a moan and her finger comes up to press against my lips again. “Another time.” She wriggles her hips and I slide further in. “For now, you have to pop my cherry.”

The words are hardly dirty. They’re like her bare legs— sexy but nothing that should have my tongue on the floor and my cum ready to burst out of me, but my body doesn’t know those rules. All I know is that my cock is inside a place no one has ever been. She’s never spread her legs for another guy. She’s never had a tongue against her cunt. She’s never had a cock inside her pussy. It’s new territory and I’m the only one who’s navigating it. I slide a hand under her ass and press inside until my balls are banging against her ass. Her eyes flutter and her breath comes in short, raspy pants.

I take her chin in my hand. “Quinn.” I wait until her gaze connects to mine. “You’re mine now. You gave yourself to me and I’m the only one who will ever touch you from now on. If anyone comes between us, anyone, whether it’s your friend or your love or your mother, I’ll kill them.”

Her lips curve up at the corners and her arms wend their way around my neck. “Then claim me. I’m yours.”

I start moving, slowly at first, trying to make sure she adjusts and then, when she’s wetter and hotter than anything in existence, I let go of my self-control. Planting a foot on the floor for leverage, I fuck her virgin pussy. She

grips me hard, her fingernails scoring my back. The pain only excites me and I drive into her harder.

“Say it back to me,” I growl. “Claim me and promise to destroy anyone who comes between us.”

“I swear it,” she cries. “I’ll never let anyone come between us. You’re mine.”

I come then. The orgasm shoots through my body like a bullet in a chamber. Her words are the tinder to the spark of my desire. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to, but I don’t want to.

My orgasm seems endless. I could fuck her forever. My dick doesn’t soften even after the last of my sperm jets out of me.

I keep fucking her, stroking her with my steel shaft. “Come for me,” I order. I say it again but this time it’s a plea. She needs to feel what I felt. I reach down between us and rub that little clit until she arches her back and lets out a cry that rings in my ears.

She comes then and I feel her walls convulse around my dick. There are so many fucking nerve endings there and each one of them is alive and awake. I close my eyes and let her orgasm push me over the edge once again. I fill her pussy with my seed. I could be impregnating her. I could be creating life. I woke up this morning and was Daman Jones but I have been reborn into Quinn’s man. I’ll never leave her side. I’ll never stop loving her. It’s forever now.

HAPTER TWEL E_ UINN

I SIT on top of Daman with his cock deep inside of me. I don’t know how I still have the energy to move. I lost count of how many times we went at it last night. We tried to move from the sofa to my bedroom, Daman not wanting Trin to come home and see me naked. I didn't break it to him that living with another girl and sharing a bathroom had that ship sailing a long time ago. Before I could say anything, I ended up pinned to the wall for another round.

Somehow we finally made it to my bed, where again we couldn't keep our hands o one another. I don’t know what is wrong with us. I think we have a problem. This sex thing is addictive. No, it’s Daman that’s addictive. The possessive words he says to me along with how he works my body has me craving more. At times his words sounded dark but were also laced with sweetness. It wasn’t a darkness that I was afraid of or one that would hurt me. It stirred something inside of me that I never knew was there.

Now I’m awake and can’t seem to help myself when I feel his hard cock digging into my back. I roll over, kissing him before pushing him to his back. I climb on top of him to get exactly what I want. I don’t need energy because he is the one in control. I might be over him but his fingers dig into my hips as he moves me up and down his cock. My clit rubs against him at the same time, giving me the friction I need.

I’m tender but the pleasure far outweighs any pain. There is no question there. My orgasm is already building as my nails dig into his chest.

“Babe,” he calls me. He can make the sweetest words come out sounding as though they’re an order. That, too, turns me on. Everything he says does. I throw my head back, coming while crying out his name. He rolls us, my back

hitting the bed as he keeps on thrusting. A moment later I feel his warm release deep inside of me. His mouth comes to mine, taking it in a kiss. One that’s like everything else about him: sweet but possessive. Dark but gentle. One that lets me know that he is mine and I am his.

I smile up at him as he pulls back from this kiss. “Your lips are swollen. Did I hurt them?” His fingertips lightly brush over them.

“No.” I giggle, licking them. “Yours are, too. Did I hurt you?”

“Never.” He pulls back, his cock slipping free. I let out a small gasp. We might have pushed it this last time. Okay, I might have pushed it. He told me after the last bout of sex in the middle of the night that we should let my body rest. I knew when I climbed on top of him he wouldn't tell me no.

“Quinn.” His face looks pained as he says my name.

“I’m fine. I just need a warm shower. A bath would be better but we don’t have one of those.” He stands from the bed in all his naked glory. The man is no stranger to working out, that’s for sure.

“You must work out a lot.” My eyes roam over his body. I sit up, knowing I probably look a mess. Daman can’t keep his hands out of my hair.

“Yes,” he answers simply before dropping to his knees on the side of the bed. He grabs my ankles, pulling me closer to him. I’m sure he’s about to bury his face between my legs, but he pulls my socks o tossing them away. I watch as he kisses each of my toes, making me giggle.

“I’m ticklish.” I try and wiggle away from him.

“I was only taking them o so you could shower.” He lets go of my feet. I sit back up.

“I’d invite you to shower with me but you and I will never fit in my shower together.” I laugh. What a bummer that is.

But I also know if he comes in the shower with me that it

won’t be a therapeutic one. We’d be all over each other, so it’s best he stays out here.

“You shower. I’ll get dressed and we can go to my place. I have a bathtub there.”

“Food too. You have to feed me.” I throw myself back on the bed, pretending I’m dying.

“Are you that hungry?” Daman’s face grows serious.

“I’m always hungry.” I hold my arm out. He takes my hand, pulling me from the bed. “I’m also dramatic about food.” I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. Still he has to lean down to let me. “I’ll be quick.” I dart o toward my bedroom door, already halfway to it when he’s shouting that I’m naked. It’s too late. I’m already in the bathroom.

I don’t waste any time getting in and out, pulling my hair up so it doesn't get wet. For once I can say I’m moving fast because I want to get to something other than food. Daman.

It’s silly because I know we’re spending the day together.

He’s not even ten feet from me and I miss him. I grab a towel as I venture back to my room. Daman is standing in the center of it fully dressed. He walks over, shutting my bedroom door.

“You shouldn't run around naked unless it’s only you and me.”

“Okay.” I walk over to my dresser. He’s not demanding I do it but more asking. It makes me think of all those things he said last night about claiming me. I realize that when he said that I am now his and he is mine that those words weren’t only in the heat of the moment.

“Trin might not be here. She is always coming and going.” I find a bra and panties, wishing I had something sexier to put on but to be honest, I don’t think we need anything sexier around here. We need the exact opposite.

“She came in at two-thirty-four this morning.” I drop my towel, looking over at him. He watches me as I pull on

the panties and bra. I fight a smirk because I can tell he’s trying to control himself from coming over and likely tossing me back onto the bed.

“That is a very precise time you have there.” Next, I find a pair of jeans and a hoodie, slipping them both on before grabbing my socks and comfy boots. I’m not sure what we are doing today but I’m going with comfy clothes.

“I’m always precise.” Must be nice.

“I’m forgetful. It’s why I always make a list and notes.” I point to all the post-its stuck to the mirror over my dresser.

“My dad says I get lost in my head sometimes.” I look over at the clock. “Oh shit. I was supposed to call him this morning!” I look around for my phone. “Where is my phone?”

“I’ll get it for you.” He turns, leaving my room and returning a few moments later with it. I reach for it but he puts it behind his back. “I’ll give it to you but there’s a price.”

I lick my lips, already anticipating the kiss I know I’ll have to pay. I watch his eyes heat.

“I don’t have any money. I’m just a poor college student.”

I bat my eyelashes at him.

“I’ll take a kiss for now but I’ll expect full payment later.”

I giggle as his mouth meets mine. Daman breaks the kiss before we get out of hand. I sigh, knowing that it means I’ll have to call my father.

“Sorry. My dad is, well...” I cringe because I’m not sure how to explain him. I don’t get him most of the time. “A little overbearing.”

“You don’t like this?” He folds his arms over his chest.

“He’s my dad.” I shrug. What could I really do about it? I hit the call button on the phone. My luck, this is the one time he picks up.

“Quinn. How are you this morning?”

“I’m good. You?” I feel like all our conversations are mostly the same, unless he’s gotten one of my grade cards, then he’ll talk briefly about my classes.

“I’m at the o ce already.” Of course he is. It’s Saturday and he basically lives there. “What are your plans today?”

“Oh. You know, the usual, lie around and study. I should go to the food store at some point also.” I peek over at Daman, who is watching me. He winces a little at my lie.

What did he want me to tell my dad, that I planned to try and get him to cave on the whole giving my vagina a break thing?

“This is why you should have stayed at the college near home. The housekeeper always keeps things stocked.” Yes, Julie always does. I try not to roll my eyes that he doesn't know her name after all the years that she’s worked for him.

“Have to grow up sometime.” More like I need to get out from being under his thumb all the time. How someone could be overbearing but also never around is so mind boggling, but my dad is a master of it.

“I’m not going to argue about this with you right now. I have a meeting in ten minutes because I am a grown up.”

The call ends. Lovely. I turn to look at Daman, who looks as happy as my dad sounded.

HAPTER THIRTEEN_ DAMAN

S HE LIED to her dad about me. I mean, I guess I would’ve lied about me if I were in her shoes, too, but it stings because, as far as she knows, I’m just another student here, not a retired hitman. Maybe there’s some other reason that I’m not parent worthy. Do I smell? I showered this morning and haven’t done anything that’s too strenuous. I raise my arm slightly and sni . I still smell like soap. It must be something else. I’ll have to figure it out later. I pocket my keys and give her a nod.

“You ready, babe?”

“Yeah. Let me get a coat.”

“You cold all the time?” She’s got a hoodie on. Another layer and she might start sweating. I would.

“I guess? Or maybe it’s just that I‘d rather be too hot than too cold?” She mock shivers, rubbing her hands along her upper arms.

I frown. I can’t kill the wind or force the sun to come out more often, which sucks, but there are limits to what a hitman can accomplish. I guess I’m buying her a hundred coats when I get to my computer. I adjust my glasses.

We don’t talk as we leave. I’m not sure what to say. Small talk has never been my thing. I’m trained in di erent stu like hiding, lurking, figuring out if the south breeze is going to a ect my shot—that sort of shit. I don’t mind the silence either. It’s always been a companion of mine. I don’t know if it’s the same for Quinn, though. I peak at her face to see if I can gauge her feelings. There’s a slight crease between her brows and the corners of her lips are turned down. Is it her dad? Is it me? I have to forcibly stop from smelling myself again.

“How about we—"

“My dad’s di cult,” she blurts out. “I didn’t tell him about you because he doesn’t want to hear it. He just wants me to listen to him talk for ten minutes about how important he is and then he’s o to another meeting.”

“Okay.”

She sighs. “It’s not okay. I feel like a piece of crap. I should’ve said something but the thing is my dad thinks I’m a child and he’s mad that I came to school here instead of the college that’s close to him where he can control me better with his army of assistants and spies. And don’t say it’s because he loves me. He doesn’t. He just thinks women can’t make decisions on their own.”

I nod as if this makes sense to me even though it doesn’t because Quinn can obviously make decisions on her own. She chose me, didn’t she? Seems that she has a good head on her shoulders. Too bad I can’t kill her dad. Unless…I eye her bent head. Maybe she’d feel freer if she didn’t have to deal with him. I’m retired from paid hits, but this would be a freebie so I technically wouldn’t be coming out of retirement.

I shove my hands in my pants and whistle.

She nudges me with her shoulder. “You seem happy.”

“I’m with you.” We fucked. It was glorious. She hasn’t run away. I couldn’t ask for anything more. “If I died today, I’d have lived a perfect life.”

This pulls her lips into a smile. “You talk about life and death a lot for someone so young.”

“That’s true.” I’ll need to work on my vocabulary.

“Are you watching too many action movies?”

“You could say that.”

“I like comedies a lot. Like Bridesmaids, Booksmart, 40Year-Old Virgin.” She smirks. “Thought that last one was going to be autobiographical for a while there.” She swipes a hand across her forehead. “You saved me.”

Fuck, she’s funny and gorgeous when she’s happy. I could stare at this face forever and not get bored. “I haven’t watched any of those.”

“Oh snap. Sounds like we need to have a movie night.”

I don’t have a television but that can be rectified. Surely there’s a place in town that will deliver one for the right price. “What other movies do you like?” I ask.

She shares a few. I admit to having watched none. I’ve been more of a reader than anything and our conversation moves to books. Most of my life has been spent in silence and I thought I preferred that, but hearing her talk makes me happy. I’m going to record her at some point so that when we’re not together, I can play her voice as the soundtrack. Better than any music, that’s for damn sure.

When we get to my apartment, my stomach is grumbling.

“How about steak and eggs?”

“Steak for breakfast?” Her face lights up. “I like that idea.”

Upstairs, the door to my apartment is open. Is the party still going on? I take my glasses o and tuck them inside my shirt pocket. With one hand, I push Quinn behind me.

There’s a bottle lying on the ground. I pick it up and use my shirt to mu e the sound of glass breaking as I fashion the bottle into a weapon.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her hand clutching the back of my shirt.

“Nothing.” There’s no one that can stand a chance against me. It’s not bragging to say it. It’s the truth. I creep forward with the bottle gripped in one hand. The end is sharp enough that I can slash through a carotid artery. We’re fine. We’re going to be just fine.

A body moves at the entrance. I pull back my arm and then...lower it.

“Flip.”

“Dude. What time is it?” He digs his knuckles into his eyes.

“It’s almost ten,” Quinn chirps.

“Fuck. I had a study meeting this morning.” Flip squints at me. “Hey, you got some deliveries. We were hungry and thought it might be food, but it was just...socks and a toaster.

Nice green though. Really brightens up the place.” He looks me over. “Mind if I keep the clothes? I’m thinking the all black look makes me look like a ninja assassin.” He strikes a pose.

Quinn mu es a giggle. I let the bottle drop from my hand. “Sure. Keep the clothes.”

“You can keep mine. Looks like she liked them.” He waggles his eyebrows.

I glance down at the bottle. I could kill Flip and I don’t think the world would su er at all. Unfortunately, Quinn’s with me. She might not be ready for that. I pull out my glasses and slip them on. “See you later, Flip.”

I don’t wait for a response. I pull Quinn into the apartment and shut the door in his face. The place looks like a disaster and smells like a brewery. “Let’s eat out.”

“Oh my God, no. We’re cleaning this place up,” Quinn commands. “You make me a steak and I’ll gather up the trash.”

And that’s what we do.

HAPTER FOURTEEN_ UINN

“L OOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN .” I look up from my phone as I pull my keys out of the new fancy front door lock that Daman installed a few weeks ago. I find Trin sitting on the sofa pulling her shoes on.

“Sorry.” I cringe, feeling bad. I have been pretty MIA around here for the past few weeks. Daman’s bed is way bigger and he has a huge bathtub. One with jets in it that do more than only soothe your muscles. It was hard to say no when he asked me to stay the night. Which happened to be every night since we were first together.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m only messing with you.” She smiles, standing up. “I can’t say I blame you.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. I feel my face warm. Being casual about the whole having sex thing is new to me. For as much as we’ve had it at this point I shouldn't be shy about it.

“Class?” I ask as she pulls a hoodie on over her head before fixing her hair.

“Yeah. Same shit di erent day.”

“No new guy on the hook for you?” I drop my own bag down by the door. She shrugs, looking bored at the idea. She must be in one of her no-men phases. I don’t see this lasting very long.

“Before I forget, I wanted to mention that the handyman got pissy about the new lock. It’s safe to say he hates the new boyfriend you’ve got.” She comes over, grabbing her bag for class. Her comment strikes me as odd because why would the handyman care? How the hell did he even notice that we had a new one?

“What’s wrong with the lock?” I look back at the door.

“Landlord has to have a key. I guess we aren’t supposed to change the locks ourselves. Some kind of policy they

have.” She rolls her eyes. “I got a copy of mine and gave it to him so he’d leave me alone. That man is relentless.”

I’ve never given much thought to someone else having a key to our apartment before. I’ve only ever lived at home. I guess we don’t own the place so it sort of makes sense.

“That’s not the worst of it. When I got here today he was in here. He scared the shit out of me.”

“So, he can just come in here?” I remember the handyman. I feel bad because I can’t recall his name o hand.

I’ve run into him a few times but try to avoid him as much as possible. He hit on me when we first moved in here.

At least that’s what Trin had said he’d done. He gave me his number and had me text him so he had mine. I thought it was in case something broke or there was an emergency.

Trin had taken my phone and blocked his number, telling me to trust her before I got a dick pic I would never forget. I thought she was being a little over the top blocking his number, but I didn't really care. I kind of forgot about it after that.

“He said he tried to call you but couldn't get through to let you know he was coming by today. But we all know he’s a creeper so I thought I should mention it.”

“He’s blocked.” I mumble what we both already know.

Goosebumps still cover my arms at the creepy feeling the idea of someone just being able to unlock our door and come in gives me.

“Yeah. I told his ass that he needs to contact me next time.” She puts the bag she’s holding over her shoulder, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Text me later.”

“Bye.” I watch the door fall closed behind her, the lock clicking into place. I’m more thankful than ever that Daman installed it. I could care less if the landlord, the handyman or anyone else likes it. I know that it will keep me safe and that seems to be Daman’s number one concern. I walk into my

bedroom to pack more clothes. Little by little more and more seem to be ending up over at Daman’s house.

I look around my room noticing that some of my stu looks to have been moved. I shake my head at myself. I’m being silly and paranoid. I’m sure it was Trin looking for something. I’m sure it’s normal for the maintenance people to have keys to everyone's apartments. I can’t let it bother me because the handyman creeped me out. I’m letting my mind run wild and I need to reel it in.

My phone dings in my hand. I look down and see a text from Daman.

Daman: Are you okay?

Me: Yes. Got out of class early so I came to get some clothes from my place. Shouldn't you be in class?

It is the reason I didn't text him when I got out early. I was going to pop into my place and meet him like planned at his car before we went and got dinner. Only a few weeks together and we already have a schedule. I kind of love it. I think I kind of love him, too.

Daman: I’ll pick you up.

His text is simple like always. Daman is always to the point when he talks. It’s taken me a minute to understand that sometimes he can be very literal. Some may not like it but I find it endearing. The man’s words often catch me o guard and melt all my insides.

Me: I’m sure you will.

Me: Do not leave class early!

I text again, knowing how he can be. He worries over me.

It’s nothing like how my dad is. I feel like Daman does it because he truly cares that I’m okay. That my well-being is his number one concern. He doesn't check on me because he thinks he’s supposed to. He wants to. To me that makes all the di erence in the world and it’s why it doesn't bother me.

I wish I could say the same when my father did it. Unlike my

dad’s constant overbearing ways, with Daman I enjoy it. If he’s always checking in on me then he’s always close.

Daman: Too late.

I snort out a laugh. Of course I am. I grab a bag and start tossing things inside. Before I can even get it zipped up, I hear the front door opening. My heart drops for a second knowing Trin is in class. I turn to see Daman walking into my bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” His whole body goes rigid, the smile dropping from his face.

“You scared me. I forgot you have a key.”

He comes over to me. “There is something else.” Jeez. Am I that easy to read?

“I think I’m on edge. Trin told me the handyman was inside when she got home today. It’s weird to me that random people have keys to our home but I guess he’s not random. He works here.” Daman stares down at me. His face is unreadable. “What?” I ask when he says nothing. I can see the tight line of his jaw and the way his hand is balled into a fist. He hasn't even kissed me, which is very un-Daman like.

Causing me to think that he’s not very happy about my handyman’s unannounced visit either.

“You’re staying with me tonight,” he finally says, causing me to laugh. Everything's better when he’s around.

“This is shocking news.” I grab his shirt, pulling him down to kiss me. He comes willingly. I might as well move in with him at this point. But like the I love you, I think it’s too soon to say or ask. This is turning out to be so much more than a crush.

HAPTER FIFTEEN_ DAMAN

I TAKE Quinn home and run her a bath. She really loves the jets in that thing and after a few rounds of sex with her, I do, too. But right now I have a di erent sort of cleaning that needs to be done. I put a glass of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers next to the tub and give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Aren’t you going to climb in?” She raises a pink toe out of the bubbles and wiggles it at me.

I swallow hard and trudge to the door. “Nah, I have some homework to do. You relax and once you’re done, we can go to the Mexican place and get the tamales you like. Holler at me if you want anything.”

I hop out of the bathroom quickly so I’m not tempted to stay. Once I’m in my chair, I pull up the surveillance footage I’ve ignored for the last three weeks. Quinn has been with me almost every free minute of the day so there hasn’t been any need to look at the footage. If she’s not with me, then she’s at class. I don’t need the cameras. I have my own two eyes but I’m glad I didn’t remove them because I’ll be able to see exactly what’s been going on in her apartment.

My software program dumps the feed into a file every twenty-four hours and I haven’t deleted anything. If he’s doing something shady, I’ll catch it.

I start backwards from yesterday since Quinn sensed something was wrong. Her roommate rolls out of bed, bypasses the co ee machine and goes straight for the freezer. She grabs a small round pint of something and spends five minutes leaning against the counter eating it. I fast forward. The girl washes dishes, disappears into the bathroom, comes out looking like a di erent person and

exits. After fifteen minutes, the door cracks open and a square head peeks in. He clears his throat.

“Anyone home? It’s Chris. The handyman.” When he hears no response, he pushes the door open and slides through. After he locks the door, he moves into the kitchen, where he rifles through the dishes that the roommate washed. He holds up a cup to his nose and sni s. This guy is weird as fuck.

“What are you doing?”

I nearly jump out of my chair in shock. “When did you get out of the tub?” I hadn’t heard her. That’s never happened to me before.

“Is that…” She leans forward. I move to try to block her view, but she’s seen my monitors. They’re hard to miss. “My apartment?”

I hear confusion in her voice, like she doesn’t want to believe what her eyes are seeing. I scramble for an excuse, but my mind is blank. I’m usually better at this. I can come up with a glib lie if I need to, but I also am way more alert.

Old me wouldn’t have allowed that to happen but I’ve gotten complacent.

“Wait a second.” She looks at the screen and then eyes the counter where the appliances sit.

“That toaster is the same one I have and so is the co ee maker. I didn’t know they came in green. How long have you been watching me?” She spins back to me and glares. “Are you spying on me? Is my dad paying you to spy on me?”

“No. Fuck no. I told you I’d kill him for you. Why would I spy for him?” I shove a hand through my short hair.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. And we’re going to talk about why you always say you’d kill—” She stops abruptly. Her eyes go from narrow, questioning slits to wide, surprised circles. Then she shakes her head.

“Quinn, you’re not in some damn action movie.”

I run my tongue along my teeth. There are a few hired killers that have families. I only know this because one of them had his kid held hostage in exchange for doing a hit. He killed the mark and then the person who hired him. After that I never heard of him again so there’s no one around I can ask for advice in this situation. It never occurred to me that I’d be in a position where I’d need to know how others broke this to their lover. Hey babe, got to go to work. There’s a mob boss trying to take up too much territory and I’ve been paid a cool milli to knock him o . I’ll be home before five. Love ya.

Quinn is not a fan of my silence. “You better start talking.

You have five minutes.”

What do I explain? She’s not going to like this. She’s a twenty-one-year-old college student. Sleeping with a killer isn’t really high on college students’ lists—as far as I know.

“Four.”

“I’m trying to work out the words to explain this.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.” She starts toward the door. “And I don’t want you to—” “Wait!” I shout.

She stops. “Are you going to talk?”

I nod but realize she can’t see me because her back is turned. “Yes,” I croak out. She pivots and takes a step toward me. Her chin is up and out and her eyes are flashing with anger. The near miss of losing her makes me weak in the knees. I collapse in my chair.

I gesture with my hand. “Ask me anything. I think that’s the best way through this.”

Maybe, just maybe, I can get away with not telling her that I used to kill people for a living.

“Why are you spying on me?”

“I was worried about your safety.” She cocks her head to the side as if to say the answer was not the kind of bullshit she was interested in. “When I met you in the cafeteria I

thought you were the most beautiful person alive. I wanted to get to know you better, which sounds terrible now that I say it out loud but at the time, when I was planting the bugs, it seemed rational.”

“I don’t see the bathroom on your screen.”

“No. I didn’t put one there.” I mentally pat myself on the back.

“But there’s one pointed at my bed.”

I cringe. “Yes.” One step forward, two back, I think.

“Do you work for my dad?”

“No. I told you before I didn’t.”

She presses her lips together into a thin line. “I’m double-checking. Don’t I have the right to do that?”

“Yes, absolutely yes.” She can do anything she wants.

“You’re in charge.”

“Why were you looking at your film?”

“Because you said your handyman made you nervous. I wanted to see if he was in there doing shit he wasn’t supposed to do.”

“And?” “He just came in after your roommate left and sni ed a co ee mug.”

“That’s weird.”

I nod vigorously. “Very.” Anything to make me look less like a nut.

“What else?” She cranes her neck for a better view of the screens.

“I stopped there because you arrived.”

“Hmmm,” she hums. Her eyes look less angry and I’m tempted to relax but I know that’s a mistake. My instincts are proven true with her next question.

“You just have a bag full of spy cameras that you can install whenever you feel like?”

My whole body is tense, but I force out an answer. “Yes.” “Why?” I take o my glasses and throw them on the desk. I’m going to lose her if I don’t come clean. I’ll probably lose her if I tell the truth, but I knew that going in. The thing is, I’ve claimed her. She promised that she would be mine forever. I get to my feet and walk over to her. She doesn’t back up but I can sense she doesn’t like this, me using my height and body to intimidate her. I drop to my knees and take her hand.

“You promised me when I took your virginity, when I gave you mine, that you were mine forever and you can’t take it back, no matter what I did in my past. I won’t let you.”

Her hand lands on top of my head. “I feel dumb for even saying these words, but do you have a particular set of skills?”

HAPTER SIXTEEN_ UINN

I DON ’ T WANT to take it back. I want to be Daman’s forever but I need the truth.

“I have many skills.” His other hand rubs up my bare thigh, distracting me. I’d only come out here with his shirt on. I’d gotten lonely in the bathtub and was going to try to lure him to come back and join me. I know how he gets when I wear his shirts. It turns him on as much as me being naked.

He says everything about me does that for him.

I would have gone with naked but it is still daylight out and someone might see me through a window or something.

But then Daman might cut their eyes out. That thought popping into my head should be a little telling in itself. He is very much the territorial type when it comes to me.

“Daman.” I grab his hand with my other one, stopping him. He closes his eyes, looking almost pained that I’d done so. I smack his chest. “Hey! Don’t make me feel bad. You’re the one in trouble here,” I remind him. “You know everything about me.” I lift my eyebrow at him, still waiting for him to give me an explanation of why he set up cameras in my place. “And you’ve yet to explain a single thing to me.”

“You’re going to leave me.” His voice is low. His eyes are downcast. He is breaking my heart. I should be losing my shit right now on him. He has freaking cameras in my apartment. Yet here I am feeling bad for him. This must be that whole love makes you do crazy things part of a relationship. Because I’m not losing my mind, nor am I storming out of here like I thought I would be. Instead I’m standing half naked, waiting for answers.

I bring my hands to his face, making him look up at me.

“Just tell me the truth. That’s what I want.” I have a feeling

that there’s not many things he could say that would have me walking out the door away from him, but I can’t make that decision until he tells me what’s going on.

“And you won’t leave me?” His eyes fill with hope. This big man on his knees in front of me is scared that I’m going to walk out of his life. He’s acting as though me leaving would be a death sentence to him. I lick my lips because I’m going to say something to ease his mind. I know I shouldn't, but deep down inside of me, I can’t believe that my Daman could have done something so wrong that I’d want to leave him.

I know I haven't known him long, but since the moment he walked into my life it’s felt like the only thing he’s done is try to make me happy and keep me safe. We click together so easily. I truly believe this man would do anything for me. I see it in everything he does.

“No, I won’t leave you.”

He moves, picking me up. I let out a small scream of surprise as he puts me into his lap. I rest my head on his shoulder, my fingertips tracing his jawline while my eyes plead with him to give me answers.

“Yes, I have a set of skills I no longer use,” he tells me as he pulls me in closer to him, keeping a firm hold on me.

“It looks like you’re using them on my apartment,” I remind him.

“I would say I’m sorry but it would be a lie. I’m only sorry it upsets you.” I purse my lips to keep from smiling. “I’ve never worried over someone before. I thought I was doing what was best for you. That I was helping to keep you safe.

Since the moment I saw you in that cafeteria, I knew that you were mine. That it would be an honor to love you and protect you for all the days of my life.” His response is a mix of naïve, possessive and sweet at the same time. Daman and

I clearly come from two di erent worlds. Maybe that’s why we work so well together.

“What did you do before college?” He always said before he did random jobs. Daman wasn't one for talking a ton. I knew there was something di erent about him. I think I filled in some holes about his past in my mind on my own that I’m finding out aren’t factually correct.

I thought maybe he was a contractor or someone who couldn't find a job so they hopped from one thing to another, picking up any odd jobs they could. But he never found what he wanted so he came back to school. The time for filling in the blanks for him on my own is over. Now I need him to tell me his story so we can decide how to move forward. He’s going to have to give me the words.

“I was a-” He pauses for a moment. I wait. “I was a hitman.” My eyebrows lift. I had a feeling it was going to be something like this. I thought he’d say spy, but he just threw hitman right out there. As though running around killing people was just another day at the o ce for him. “I’m retired,” he adds in quickly. “I didn't set those cameras up to kill you so it doesn't count.” A laugh bursts from me. I don’t know if it’s a real one or if I’m becoming hysterical.

I drop my head to his chest as more laughter comes from me. This is crazy. I’m in love with a hitman. A killer. Maybe my dad was right. I am naïve. Daman is too, though. Just in a di erent kind of way.

For some reason that thought makes me feel a bit better about our situation. My heart aches, thinking about what led him down such a path. A retired hitman at the age of twentyfive. How does a hitman even retire? Do they have a 401k?

My mind is running wild with so many questions until I feel Daman’s hand rub along my back. My laughter quickly fades away. I lean my head back a little, kissing his neck. He sucks in a breath.

“Reassure me,” I tell him.

“I do not regret the people I killed. In fact, knowing now that you’re in this world, I’m happy they do not share this earth with you.”

“That’s really sweet in a messed-up way.” I sigh against his neck. His nose drifts across the top of my head. He does it when I sleep, too. Always breathing me in. “Daman, would you use your skills for me?” I pull back, dropping my head to look up at him.

“I’d do anything you ever ask of me,” he says instantly.

“Check all the cameras. My best friend lives in that apartment.”

“I will do it now.” His nose flares. I can tell he’s trying to fight his anger. “But I think it’s you he’s after.”

HAPTER SE ENTEEN_ DAMAN

“H OW COME we’re going to follow him? I thought that little metal thing I stuck under his fender was a GPS tracker,” Quinn asks. Her leather-gloved hands are wrapped around a pair of binoculars which she has trained on the front door.

“It is, but it’s always better to have eyes on your mark. A tracker can fool you. He could lend the car to a friend or it could’ve gotten towed.”

She lowers the binoculars. “Oh, I didn’t think of those things.”

I take them from her. “Why would you? You were learning other, important things.”

“Is there some hitman school you can go to?”

“No. It’s mostly trial and error except if you mess up, things can turn out bad for you.” A familiar frame walks out of the front of the apartment. I drop the binoculars into Quinn’s lap. “He’s moving.”

She slams the glasses against her eyes. “He’s not getting into his car!” she announces. “He’s walking somewhere.”

She lowers the glasses and asks, “What should we do now?”

“Wait.”

“Wait? I thought we were keeping our eyes on him so we don’t get fooled and end up in a bad situation.” She sounds kind of excited about that.

“We want to keep some distance from him or he might notice us.”

“I need to start keeping notes. There’s a lot to learn in this hitman business.” She trades the binoculars for a phone and opens her notes app.

“Babe, you’re not going to be doing this again so there’s no need for notes.”

Her cute nose wrinkles. “Right. Of course not. Was it so bad? Doing that work?”

I like how she calls it work, like it was something normal.

“Not really,” I admit. “There’s a lot of people that we don’t need walking around. Take your handyman. Your bed isn’t the first one he jacked o onto.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” She sticks her tongue out and gags lightly.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” I tried to turn it o but she wouldn’t let me. She wanted to see what he was doing. At least the security footage was grainy and in black and white.

His back was to us and all we saw were his hand motions, but it was obvious what was going on. Quinn was silent for a long time after the handyman left her apartment. I made her soup and warmed up some milk for her. Finally she asked me if I still had all my tools from my old job and how much it would cost to hire me.

Obviously I am doing this job for free. I would’ve done it without her request. What was unexpected was that she wanted to be involved. I don’t know if she wants to pull the trigger or just stomp on his nuts but I’m happy to help her carry out either plan.

“It was gross and violating but I’m glad I saw it because now I know why you do what you do.” Her face is set in a serious line.

I reach over and squeeze her knee. “I did it for the money, babe. This is a righteous cause.”

She turns determined eyes to meet mine. “It is, isn’t it?

Every woman should have the right to, I don’t know, at least hurt these creeps.”

“At the very least.”

“We should do that.”

“Do what?” I start the car. The handyman has come back from throwing away something in the trash. I’ll get it later.

He’s now getting into his car.

“Oh he’s leaving. Let me open the app.” I had her download the program I use for tracking. These days with all the connected apps and locator satellites, it’s easy to follow people. The best practice is to bug their phone because people almost never leave their cell phone behind. I made Quinn turn on her location finder for me so that if we were ever separated I could find her. I slipped some devices into her bag and pockets of her jacket, and in the soles of her shoes. Better safe than sorry, I think.

“I think he’s going to get groceries,” she says as we slide into tra c two cars behind him. She’s right. Ten minutes later, he pulls into the parking lot.

“Should I go in?”

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “He’ll recognize you. It feels dangerous to me.”

“But it’s the grocery store. What could he do to me? There are cameras and other people and it’s really well lit.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you go in then.”

I shake my head no. I’m not leaving her alone.

She sighs. “If I wasn’t here, what would you do?”

“Go in,” I admit. She’s right. If I were doing this job alone, I’d go inside. He could go out the back, although I doubt it because he doesn’t know he’s being watched. Still, it’s better to err on the cautious side. I unbuckle the seatbelt.

Quinn claps her hands together happily.

“I kind of like this clandestine shit,” she declares and scampers out the passenger side. “Do you think I’d be good at it?”

“I don’t know.” I join her, slipping my fingers through hers. “This is all easy and tedious. The hard part is at the end.”

“When you kill them.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it hard for you?”

“In the beginning. It got easier as time went by. That’s why I quit. Because it got too easy.” I glance down at her, wondering what she’s thinking. “While there are plenty of scum of the earth that should be taken out, life’s a valuable thing. I didn’t like who I was becoming at the end there.”

“Then scratch my previous idea.”

“What was that? You never told me.”

“I thought we could start helping other women by taking out the men that hurt them, but maybe you’re right. Maybe I won’t have the stomach for it.” She narrows her eyes at the back of the handyman. “Although when I remember what he did, I don’t think I care much what happens to him. Maybe the problem for you was that none of your kills were...what did you say? Righteous ones? Maybe if you had a real justification, it wouldn’t eat at you.”

“You won’t know until the time comes.” But maybe she’s right. Maybe if all my kills were righteous, I wouldn’t have to retire.

HAPTER EIGHTEEN_ UINN

“A CT NATURAL ,” I tell Daman. He glances down at me. It’s clear that I'm the one not acting natural. I'm going to guess my sti posture and the fact that I’m whisper yelling at Daman are what’s giving me away.

“Relax,” he says, leaning down and kissing me below my ear. “We’re just an engaged couple shopping for groceries.”

“I don’t have a ring.” I look down at my hand.

“Gloves.” He answers at the same time I remember that I have them on. Why did he have to say engaged? And not just that we are a couple. This is so not the time, Quinn, I tell myself. I’m on a case. A very important one. I can analyze what Daman said about us later.

I want to know what this man is up to. Could he be out stalking other women, too? What if he comes here because he’s checking on one of the “women” he’s into? Do these kinds of people get infatuated with multiple subjects at a time or do they focus on one? There are so many things I don’t really know. It strikes me odd that he didn't pay any attention to any of Trin’s stu when he was in our place. He was hyper focused on my things for some reason.

We keep our distance from him but are close enough to see what he’s doing. Daman grabs a basket and starts randomly putting things inside. “Don’t stare,” he says as he kisses the top of my head, spinning me around. I think the move was on purpose, Chris having looked this way.

“We should go.”

“Why? What’s happening?” I try and turn around, but Daman doesn't let me.

“You’re very noticeable.”

I roll my eyes at him. He always thinks everyone is checking me out. It’s adorable how pretty he thinks I am but

everyone is not looking at me.

“I got this.” I pull from his hold but I don’t let his hand go. I look around, not seeing Chris anywhere. “We lost him!”

I half shout. I throw my hand over my mouth. Okay, I’m really terrible at this. “Sorry.” I throw both my hands up, stepping back. I graze the side of a book display at the end of the aisle.

Daman pulls me back so that I don’t fall into it but it’s too late. I watch in horror as the entire thing falls to the ground in what seems like slow motion. I don’t even try to stop it because there’s no use. Books tumble everywhere. This is a grocery store. Why the hell is this display here anyway? I’ve been sabotaged by the very thing I love.

Everyone around turns to look at us. Chris comes around the corner, his eyes locking right onto mine. My stomach drops as I stare into his dark green eyes. What I see there sends chills through my body.

“Quinn?” He says my name, taking a step toward me. I can’t see Daman but he must give Chris some kind of look over my head because he takes a step back. Anger flashes through his eyes for a brief second before he focuses back on me.

“Hi,” I say because I have to say something. He said my name. Plus I’m supposed to act natural. “I’m such a clutz.” I try and laugh it o , but it comes out forced. Chris leans down, picking up the metal rack that held the books.

“Don’t worry. We got this.” A store employee rushes over.

“You should put this at the end of the aisle. She could have been hurt,” Daman says.

“Yeah, I keep telling them to move it.” The woman’s eyes meet mine. She waves her hand at me. “You’re not the first to knock it over. Maybe this time they’ll listen to me. Don’t worry about it.” I think she thinks I’m embarrassed.

Normally I would be but right now I’m more worried about

the creep standing in front of me and being caught. I shouldn’t feel fear with Daman here but after what Chris had done in those videos it’s hard not to. Even though I know that Daman would kill him without hesitation. Is that what I really want?

“Are you ready, babe?” Daman lifts our basket, giving it a small shake. “Or did we forget something from o your list?”

“We’re good.”

Chris stands there watching our interaction. He doesn’t try to introduce himself to Daman or say anything else to me. He only watches.

“Guess I’ll see you around.” Wait, did that sound too inviting or friendly? Shit. I really am terrible at this.

“See you soon, Quinn,” he whispers as we walk away.

This was too real, being this close to him. Looking him in his eyes having been thinking about killing him for the past few hours. Was I really thinking about that?

Daman guides me to the checkout line. In silence we get everything he put into our basket before he again guides me out of the store and opens the passenger door for me.

“I’m sorry,” I say when he gets into the driver’s side.

“We don’t have to do anything, babe.” He places his hand on my leg. I shake my head.

“Just seeing him close up.” I turn to look at Daman. “I need more. I get it, jacking o on my bed is gross but is it death worthy? Should we just hand it over to the police? Will he only get a slap on the wrist?” Question after question enter my mind.

“This is not his first time doing something like this and it won’t be his last. What he did in your apartment was child's play.”

“That was not—”

“For him. Trust me. I know this without digging.” Daman leans over the center console of the car. “You have to dig into your mark. You give me a few hours and I’ll tell you everything I think he’s ever done or what he will do.”

“You can do that?”

He shrugs. “People are predictable once you get a feel for them.”

“True. I know you’re going to kiss me.” He smiles, his mouth so close to mine I can feel his warm breath against my lips.

“Have you changed your mind?” I lick my lips, my tongue grazing his mouth.

“No, I’m just not sure if I can pull the trigger.” I kiss him.

I want Daman to know it’s not him I’m questioning but myself. “I never said you couldn't do anything.” I lean back into my seat.

“Seatbelt,” Daman reminds me as we head back to his place.

“Now, I’m worried he’s going to do something before we find out more about him.” I groan. This is more complicated than I thought. Daman taps his phone. “We’ll keep tabs. I won’t let him hurt anyone.” He glances over toward me, his eyes locking with mine. “Because I know that will hurt you.”

I smile. Maybe I shouldn't. The man I know I’m in love with is a killer. But he is my killer, and for some reason, that makes all the di erence.

HAPTER NINETEEN_ DAMAN

“Y OU ’ RE STARING AT ME ,” I murmur. Quinn’s eyes have lingered on my face for the last few seconds. I’m usually the watcher and this attention feels odd. I wish I had a hat.

“I’m trying to figure out if I like you better with or without glasses. Do you wear contacts when you’re working?”

“Wait. You have a job?” Trin interrupts before I can reply.

“I used to have a job.” I keep my eyes down on my plate.

Anything about my past feels like dangerous waters. This is why I kept to myself before but Quinn felt guilty about not spending time with her roommate so here we are, having dinner together out in public. The middle of my back that’s hard to reach is itching even though I’m sitting with my back to the wall. I remind myself that a crowded cafeteria is not the place where most hits happen. There are too many witnesses. It’s far better to catch them at home where they won’t be found for hours instead of taking them out in the street where dozens of CCTVs can capture everything from the trajectory of the bullet to the flapping of your jacket as you try to escape, which is what happened to some hitman out of Texas. He’s on death row now but hopes to get out, I guess, which is why he isn’t spilling all the secrets he’s collected over the years.

“Don’t ask, Trin,” Quinn says. “It was boring. Something to do with wiring and electricity. I make him tell me about it when I can’t sleep.”

“You two act like you’re married,” Trin whines.

“Married?” My head jerks up. Is that even an option? I hadn’t given it a thought because...well, who’s going to marry a hitman?

Quinn rolls her eyes. “No one is getting married. College students don’t get married.”

Ah, as suspected. It is not an option. I return to my burger.

“Well, you guys might as well be married. I never see you anymore. It’s like I don’t even have a roommate. I’m lonely.”

Trin shifts in her chair. “Since you’ve stolen Quinn from me, you should set me up with a co-worker. I’m ready to hear some boring bedtime stories. Who do you have?”

I shove the burger in my mouth so I don’t have to answer.

Quinn coughs into her hand, probably to cover a smile.

“They all have plumber’s butt. It’s not pretty,” she tells her roommate.

Trin makes a humming noise—halfway between agreement and disbelief. “So Quinn says you’re a landscape architect major. Does that mean you’re going to design gardens and stu ?”

“Something like that.” I don’t have to work for a living. I have a nest egg tucked away in the Caymans big enough to support both Quinn and me, but I had to major in something.

“I like growing things so it appealed to me.”

“That’s oddly sweet. I can see why you like him,” Trin says to Quinn.

“Actually I’m just using him for the great sex.” Quinn squeezes my biceps to let me know she’s joking. Actually, I don’t care if that’s the only reason she’s with me. At least she’s with me and if it’s because of the way I eat her out at night, finger her in the morning, or dick her down when she comes home from class, that’s a good thing. I’m happy taking what I can get from her. I finish the rest of my burger and ignore the nagging hollow feeling lingering in my chest.

“I haven’t had good sex let alone great sex since…” Trin taps her chin. “Maybe ever? Are you absolutely sure that you don’t have anyone you could hook me up with?”

I wipe my mouth with a napkin before responding. “You’d have to be okay with conjugal rights. The only guy I know worth a lick is sitting on death row.” I tuck the napkin next to my empty plate. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure if a man on death row gets conjugal visits.”

Quinn throws up her hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m a language major, not a criminal law person.”

“Do you have a picture?” Trin asks.

“Seriously, Trin?” Quinn says.

“No. Not really.” Trin’s tone isn’t entirely convincing.

She drops her head to her hands. “I’m in such a slump, our handyman is starting to look attractive. He chatted me up yesterday, saying how much he liked having us as tenants because we never break anything or cause problems. He wasn’t even mad about the locks like he was the last time, although he wanted to know where you got them.”

“I ordered them from Canada,” I tell her. “I’ll text you the information and you can share it with him.”

Quinn shoots me a look of dismay under her eyelashes, but it doesn’t matter what he knows now. He won’t be around much longer to put that information to use. I’ve been putting o disposing of the handyman ever since we ran into him in the grocery store. Quinn is with me at all times. We burned the sheets. While Trin was at class, I had new mattresses delivered and ordered the old ones to be destroyed. But I’d left him alone because Quinn seemed disturbed about the hit. I couldn’t keep ignoring his existence forever, though—not if I wanted to keep her safe.

“You should spend the night at the apartment,” I tell Trin. “The couch pulls out or you can bunk down with Quinn.”

“And where will you be?”

“I promised a friend I’d take care of some unfinished business. I’ve put it o but it’s time to get it done.” My eyes

lock on Quinn’s. “I don’t want it hanging over my head while I’m trying to study for finals.”

She chews on her lower lip and then gives me a small nod of agreement. The handyman needs to be taken out. She smiles at Trin. “Yeah, come over and we’ll have a movie night. Daman just installed a big television. We can watch the Bachelorette and rank all the candidates.”

I narrow my eyes. “They better all be sub-zero.”

“No one compares with you, babe,” Quinn reassures me.

“Better not.”

“Or what?” Trin laughs.

“You don’t even want to know,” Quinn says teasingly, but when her eyes meet mine, they’re serious. I’d get rid of any competition in a heartbeat.

HAPTER TWENTY_ UINN

“A RE you trying to put me in a food coma?” I ask Daman as he puts the rest of the junk food away. He picked up a ton of it while I was in class today.

“I wanted to make sure you have everything you need for your movie night.” He turns to look at me. “I want you to have fun. I don’t want you to worry about anything except the ranks of the candidates.”

“How can I worry about their ranks if they are all zero?” I tease as I put the bag of Cheetos down and walk over toward him. I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. His mouth meets mine as I kiss him deeply. Before I know what’s happening, he has me sitting on the kitchen counter. His body is positioned between my spread thighs.

His hand is currently in my hair, pulling it out of the ponytail I’m wearing.

“It’s going to be hard to have fun without you but you apparently have plans.” I lift one eyebrow at him. He takes a step back but I grab his shirt, pulling him back to me. He comes without fighting. “Did you find more out?”

“Yes.” His answer is simple. He’s not going to tell me more unless I ask for it. It’s how he is. He doesn’t go into details, making me pull most everything from him. The only time he’s open is when it comes to his feelings for me. I know he’s working on it and he’s getting better the more time we spend together.

“Do I want to know?” I’ve been wrestling with this for a few days in my mind. Oddly, it’s not about the fact that Daman once killed people for a living. No, it is the fact that I might be avoiding something that does need to be taken care of. Am I ignoring the fact that a terrible man could be out there doing terrible things because I don’t want to face what

should be done? Maybe. But who appointed me to be judge and jury? This is the inner struggle I’ve been dealing with.

“No.” His hand comes up to my face. His thumb brushes along my lips. “But if you ask, I will always tell you.”

“I know that.” I kiss his thumb. Daman might be a killer but he is mine. He’d do anything for me. “If I asked you to stay tonight would you?”

“I would do anything you asked me.” Yet his eyes plead with me not to ask this of him.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is what you found?

Without telling me any of the details that will keep me up at night.” His jaw hardens before he answers my question. His hands cup my face.

“On a scale of things I’ve seen in my life, an eight. On a scale of what I think you know about the world”—he kisses my forehead—“a twelve.”

“You think I’m naïve.” I look up at him.

“I do not think like your father.” How did he know my mind went there?

“Then what do you think?”

“I think I don’t want the darkness of the world touching you if it doesn't have to. I’ve seen enough of it for the both of us. You’re my light. Your innocence is something I live to protect now. I want to protect everything about you.”

“For a man who doesn't talk much, you sure know how to get me with your words.” I pull him down for another kiss.

“I trust you. Do what you need to but know if you don’t come home to me you’ll shatter my world.” He looks surprised at my response.

“Home?” He smiles.

“Yes, home.” I smile back. Not only is most of my stu here but Daman himself has been turning this place into a home. What were once bare walls and tables are now filled

with decorations and life. It actually looks as though two people live here now.

“I will be in our bed tonight and every night after. I promise you this.”

I tilt my head back, o ering my mouth for a kiss. He takes it.

“I’m serious, Daman. Don’t do something to get yourself taken from me. That will hurt me more than anything in this world.”

“I would never hurt you,” he vows to me.

“That’s good because I’m in love with you and we’re building a life here together.” I push on his chest. He takes a dazed step back as I hop down from the counter. I fight my smile at how shocked he is at what I said.

A knock sounds at the door. “Open up! It starts in a few minutes.” The always late Trin shouts through the door.

“That’s why we have DVR,” I shout back as I head toward the door, leaving my hitman to stand in the kitchen. I open the door to see Trin standing there in her pajamas.

“We have to watch it live. People ruin it on Twitter.” She pushes inside, dropping her stu down in the living room.

“You don’t have to look at Twitter,” I remind her.

“I like following the hashtag and seeing if everyone is thinking what I’m thinking.”

“You like to talk shit.” I laugh.

“That too.” She looks over to Daman. “What’s wrong with him?”

I wave my hand. “He’s all shocked that I love him.” I fake an eye roll. Trin snorts.

“Did you see his face when I said you guys act like a married couple? That shit lit up like a Christmas tree.”

I look over to Daman, who has finally moved. He’s coming right toward me. I try and think back to what I’d said when Trin had mentioned marriage earlier. I don’t care if I get

married or not. I just want to be with Daman. It's not that I wouldn’t marry him, I just always figured people don’t get married until they are older. But what the heck do I know?

When Daman reaches me, he lifts me o my feet.

“I don’t need to see you guys making out!” Trin half shouts. “I’ll go away while you guys say your goodbyes.” She darts out of the living room. I rush to put my hand over Daman’s mouth.

“You don’t say those words to me until you get back here,” I tell him. He kisses the palm of my hand and nods his head yes. “You say them when you slip into our bed before you make love to me.” I drop my hand away from his mouth.

“Now kiss me and go do what needs to be done.”

He does as I ask, kissing me with everything he has.

Telling me he loves me without the words. Then going to make the world a little bit of a better place for me to live in.

HAPTER TWENTY-ONE_ DAMAN

A COMPUTER hard drive is like a diary of sorts. The browser stores traces of your internet visits, emails keep track of your conversations, the metadata on a photo can reveal the location and time of the photo. With a person’s hard drive, I can recreate their entire life. The best part is that I don’t even have to break into someone’s house to track all this information. You only need to send a link to their phone or email and once they click on it, the door is opened.

That’s how I know the handyman is at twelve on the ten scale of worst humans around. It’s not that he’s going into women’s apartments and jacking o on their beds. It’s not even the dozens of porn sites he visits every day. It’s the videos and photos he’s stored of the college girls that live in and around the apartments. He takes daily snaps of the apartments he oversees but the vast majority are in their apartments when they’re passed out. He strips them down, does his business, takes photos and videos and then leaves.

The women probably don’t even know he was there. I don’t know if he drugs them. I didn’t find evidence of that, but it’s easy enough for him to monitor who was drunk coming into the building and easier to get into their apartments without anyone questioning it.

If Quinn had lived here much longer, it would’ve been her or her roommate and if I don’t end him, it’ll be someone else. That is something I will not allow. He should have never looked at her. Fuck. He doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as my Quinn. Never mind him having the thoughts I know he was having about her.

I’ve killed people for thinner reasons. My moral code isn’t that strong. After all, I was a hitman. I killed for money, but this guy deserves to be gone and I’m not sorry I have an

excuse. When it comes to Quinn, I’ll never let anything harm her. Even if it’s only to clear her thoughts. I will fix it. I check my watch again. The handyman is taking a while. He should’ve been here at least an hour ago. It only takes about ten minutes to get a sandwich from the deli, especially on a Tuesday night. Then again, the dude is not very habit oriented. He gets up when he feels like it, goes to sleep after he’s done stalking the women in his apartments and in between spends time selling his homemade porn stu . I debated nuking his hard drive, but figured the police will need it to track down some of the buyers and contact the victims. I’ve made it all easy for them to find. I am making the world a safer place for my girl. It might not be the way others go about it, but it is the only way for me. I am using my skills to keep her safe in the one way I know how.

The front door opens and the handyman stomps in. His keys make a clinking sound as they hit the table. I hear the faint buzz of the refrigerator as he opens it. He pops a bottle cap o and the small metal piece pings against another surface—probably the sink.

He takes precisely six minutes and forty-eight seconds to drink his beer, rifle through his mail, and then piss. From the sounds, he drinks while he’s pissing. And if he didn’t deserve to die for the other things, that seems like a good enough reason in and of itself.

The toilet flushes and he strolls into the bedroom, flipping on the lights—or trying to. I’ve disconnected the electrical connections.

“Fuck, what now?” he mutters. He tries it again, but the switch is dead. “This stupid ass of a building. I should have quit years ago.”

“But how would you stalk your prey if you didn’t work here?” I ask.

“What the fuck?” he yells, frightened by my voice.

I flick on a flashlight and shine it in his eyes. His hand comes up. “Are you wearing my fucking sweatshirt?” His eyes squint as he tries to make me out.

I am, and a pair of his pants and his boots—all over a skintight neoprene bodysuit. Any blood or fibers from his apartment will stick to those items and not my clothes. It makes it easier for me, not that he needs to know that. I ask my own questions. “If you didn’t work here, how would you be able to take advantage of the drunk and unconscious women? Would you start hunting them at bars or clubs and drugging them in the parking lot?”

His hand comes up to block the light. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I turn o the flashlight and jab my index finger against the keyboard and the computer screen lights up. “Look familiar?”

He lunges forward to turn o the monitor, tripping over his own feet and nearly doing a header into the desk. The guy’s got no coordination. He fumbles around, searching for the power button and eventually just yanks the power cord from the wall, sending the room into darkness again. He thinks the computer is his problem? It really is the last thing he should be worrying about right now. I am going to make him regret every decision he’s ever made. By the time I’m done with him, he won’t be able to say his own name. Least of all Quinn’s.

“This is private shit, man,” he exclaims.

“Call the police then. Let’s have you explain all of this.”

As if I’d really call them. Why bother? They are likely busy. I can take care of this for everyone. My mind drifts to Quinn. I picture her face, wondering what she is doing right now.

He doesn’t respond right away. In the silence, my phone rings. It’s Quinn. “Think about it while I take this call.” I

turn a little away from him, not wanting to look at him while I talk to her.

“You’re seriously going to talk to someone—” I hold up my hand and he falls silent immediately. I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength. He likely doesn't know what to do right now. He can’t call the police. He’ll put it all together shortly.

“Babe? Something wrong?” I speak into the phone.

Maybe I shouldn't have answered it right now but I couldn't help myself. What if something is really wrong?

“I felt a disturbance in the force,” she jokes. Could she have really felt me thinking about her? I know it’s impossible but I thought a lot of things were impossible before her. “Just kidding. I was worried about you. Is everything going okay?” I can hear the worry in her voice she is trying to hide. Of course she is worried. This is all so new to her. She is taking who and what I am far easier than I ever thought she would. I didn't know how good it would feel to have her know all the details of who I am, good and bad. I never want to hide things from her. It isn’t the kind of life I want to have with her.

I should’ve called her earlier when it looked like this was going to drag out. “I’m almost done. I’ll be home soon. Why don’t you put a beer in the freezer for me? By the time I get home, it’ll be cool.”

“The freezer? Oh, because you’re going to be quick.” Her voice perks up.

“Very quick.”

“Okay. On it. Be safe.”

“Love you, babe,” I say the l word without thinking. It’s been on the tip of my tongue for weeks now and I guess I couldn’t hold it in for another second. I brace myself for her response, or worse, her silence. She told me to wait until I

got back home but it so easily slipped past my lips, the need to say the words to her pushing forward.

She hu s out a laugh. “Now you tell me you love me?

When I can’t properly say it in return? Get your work done and get your ass back here. Okay?”

A giant grin cracks my face. “Okay.”

“Were you making a booty call while snooping around my bedroom?” Dipshit starts to come to a little more.

“I gotta go, babe. See you soon.”

“Your boyfriend’s a nutcase,” the handyman shouts.

I hang up before Quinn can hear another word. “That wasn’t a great idea.” I reach down between my feet and pick up the hammer I found in the toolbox in the hall closet.

“What the hell is that? Where are the lights? Fuck. Why is it so dark—” I’m a hitman, or, at least, I was. I’m not here to listen to excuses or make fake bargains. I have one task and once I’ve completed the job, I’m done.

I wish I could have taken longer. Made him pay more for the things he’s done—and for the things he thought of doing —but I told my girl I’d be home soon.

I lay the hammer down next to the handyman’s head and take my leave from the bedroom window. Outside, I take o the clothes and boots and chuck them back inside. It doesn’t matter that it’s obvious he’s been killed. It only matters that it can’t be traced back to me and Quinn. There’s a host of other possible suspects sitting on his computer. I close the window and pull o the surgical gloves. Halfway home, I toss them into a trashcan.

Maybe I spent my entire life training for this one kill. I didn’t have much of a life before I got to college, but I left my past job so I could find a future and now I have one with Quinn. Funny how that works out. I shove my hands into my

pockets and begin to whistle, knowing I’m right where I belong. With her.

HAPTER TWENTY-TWO_ UINN

“A RE you sure you’re not Superman?” I ask Daman as I put my phone down on the counter. That call went a whole lot easier than I thought it was going to. The first time I called him Clark Kent, Daman hadn’t found it so funny. He thought I was calling him another man’s name. I immediately made him sit down and watch a million DC movies with me. This is when I realized how naïve he really was about the world. I may be that way in some things, too. We balance each other out, I guess.

He grabs me, lifting me from the ground and setting me on the counter. He’s always so freaking fast. I rest my hands on his shoulders, still having to tilt my head back to look at him. His glasses are long gone, letting me look directly into his gorgeous blue eyes.

He may not be a man of many words but I can see everything in his eyes. It took me a while to learn how to read him but now that I know how, it makes all the di erence. He doesn’t hide anything from me. If I ask him something he’ll tell me. There are still some things I leave alone.

“It went well?” he asks.

“I think you already talked to him.” I let out a small laugh. My dad showed up a day after the murder at my apartment complex freaking out. Daman and his superpowers calmed him down. Everyone got a whole lot calmer once the cops started sharing more about the handyman’s murder along with what they found on his computer.

I don’t think the cops are actively looking for anyone in particular. The list of suspects was way too long. They had found so much incriminating evidence that it sounded as

though they were leaning towards it being one of the victims of his crimes or possibly a victim's family member getting their own form of justice.

“He also thinks it’s a good idea that we live together. Said after everything that happened, it would make him feel better knowing you’re safe.”

I try to stop the laugh but my whole body shakes with it.

Daman has been saying I should move in with him from almost the first night I crashed at his place. I do practically live there now. Yet, taking all of my stu over there is really making it final. It feels like a new chapter of my life is starting.

“He knows I’ll look after you. That I’d do anything to keep you safe. Always.” He leans down, his mouth brushing against mine in a soft kiss. This is true. Daman will make sure not a hair on my head will ever be harmed. My dad either has some sort of trust in Daman or he’s learning he doesn’t have much of a choice in what I do in my life. It is mine to live.

“Incoming!” Trin shouts as she walks through the open front door. Two moving men are carrying a giant desk. She decided to turn my room into an o ce. I told Daman that I’d be a dick if I just moved out on her. Before I could tell him no to moving in with him, he was paying o not only my share of the rent but Trin’s, too.

I have no idea how much money he made as a hitman but I don’t think money is something we’re going to have to worry about. Not that it matters. All I want is to spend my life with him by my side.

“Don’t be doing it on the kitchen counter.” Trin winks at me.

“Then I guess we should go.” Daman throws me over his shoulder, making me laugh as he carries me out of the apartment and down the stairs. I think I got everything I

needed. It’s not like I can't come back. I try to lift up, but Daman smacks my ass so I smack his back in return.

“Put me down, Clark.”

He smacks my ass again. This time it’s a little harder. I squeeze my legs together, the sensation of his hand going straight to my clit. I hear him mumble a curse as he puts me down onto my feet.

“In.” He opens the car door. I can tell from the look in his eyes this is not the time to tease him. I jump in the car, wanting the same thing. Needing him as much as he needs me.

“Drive faster,” I tell him when he pulls out into the road.

He glances in all his mirrors. Sometimes I forget what he used to do but I know that part of him will always be alive in some way inside of him. He’ll always be watching. Always be ready to protect me if need be. It’s built into him.

He pushes on the gas. I reach over, rubbing his thigh, growing impatient, as though we didn't go at it like rabbits this morning before we got out of bed. He keeps his eyes on the road as his hand slips between my legs. I don’t even try to feign innocence. I spread my legs a little wider, needing his touch more than anything.

“This is mine.” His hand slips inside my yoga pants as he cups my pussy before his fingers find my clit. “Tell me.”

I arch my hips up, trying to get the friction I need, but he withholds pleasure from me waiting for me to answer. “It’s yours.” His fingers rub me slowly, teasing me. “It will always be yours… Clark.” I smirk, knowing that he can see me out of the corner of his eye. He pulls his hand out from my pants. I cry out his real name as he licks his fingers.

“Put it back.” I wiggle in my seat.

“I want to taste it.” He’s out of the car before I realize that we’ve even parked. He pulls me into our place, pinning me to the wall.

“We’re home,” I say against his mouth.

“I will be in a minute.” He pulls my pants down my legs, causing my shoes to go flying before he’s pinning me back to the wall. He fumbles with his belt as he kisses the breath out of me. In one thrust he’s deep inside of me. I gasp as he growls into my mouth.

“I thought you wanted to taste me.” I nip at his bottom lip. He holds himself still, deep inside of me, and I know he’s fighting for control. He’s a big man but I was wet and ready for him. My body was made to take him.

My nails dig into his back. I wish we were both naked but this works for now. I have all the time in the world to make love to Daman. Right now is all about need and I need him.

“Babe.” I clench around his cock, my body telling him what I want.

“Move.” I bite down on his lip harder this time. He growls louder as he starts to pump in and out of me. My orgasm is already pushing down on me and I cling to him as I come. I try and hold back, but I was too close.

Being pinned between him and the wall is taking everything to a whole new level as he pumps in and out of me. The orgasm rolls through me as his warm release spills deep inside of me. I bury my face in his neck, trying to catch my breath.

“I’m not done.”

“I know,” I breathe out. We are far from done. We are just getting started. This is our beginning. A new and di erent life together. There is so much for me to show him and for him to show me. The world is ours for the taking and I know Daman will show me all of it. My back hits the soft mattress as Daman remains deep inside of me.

“I love you.” He brushes the hair out of my face, causing our eyes to lock.

“I love you, too.” I lift my head, my mouth meeting his. I kiss him with everything I have. I don’t care if he was a killer. All I care about is that he’s mine.

EPILOGUE_ DAMAN

“T HAT ’ D BE a good spot to set up your kill shot.” I point to the Palantine Hill. “You’d have an unobstructed view of the Forum. The problem would be what kind of weapon to use.

With the velocity and distance needed, an arrow might be your only choice.”

Trudy, my two-year-old, gnaws on my thumb in response.

“Yeah, we should poison that arrow just to be safe.”

“You two are having an intense discussion,” says Quinn.

She comes to take a seat by us, adjusting her camera.

“Ah, we’re just discussing the landscape.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” my wife replies, not believing a word I’m saying. She fiddles with her camera and then leans back to take a picture of Trudy and me.

“Smile for your mama,” I say to my daughter.

She continues to chew on her thumb. Quinn takes the photo anyway.

“I’ve got more pictures of the top of her head than of her face,” she complains.

“She’s camera shy.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“No lies detected,” I admit. Trudy has a mind of her own, even at two. She does what she wants, when she wants. Right now, the pad of her thumb is the most interesting thing in the world and she’s unimpressed with the fact we’re sitting right outside one of the greatest architectural feats in the world.

Quinn takes a couple more pictures of us and then tucks her camera into the case by my foot. She leans back and points her face upward, looking every bit like a beautiful flower basking under the sun. We’ve been together for six

years now. Since college, we’ve spent our time traveling.

Quinn’s camera has taken photos of us hiking in the snowy Andes, swimming in the clear waters of the Maldives, walking along the path of gods overlooking the Amalfi Coast.

Along the way we had Trudy. Our friends expected us to settle down—or I should say Quinn’s friends. I’m still suspicious of everyone who wants to be near us. My past experience makes me leery of trusting people, particularly around Quinn, whose existence is what I get up for in the morning.

But Quinn loves traveling and I love Quinn. Trudy’s not hard, anyway. I tuck her in the carrier, stick a couple of diapers in a bag, and we’re good. Someday we’ll settle down.

I’ll build a giant garden. Quinn will set up a language school.

Trudy will terrorize the neighborhood boys. Until then, we’re nomads, traveling the world, eating local food, and enjoying the cocoon of love we’ve made for ourselves.

“So what were you really talking about?”

“Ahhhhh—” I stall for time and try to think of a plausible story.

Quinn rolls her head until she faces me. Her beautiful face is lit up with a knowing smile. I cave.

“I was talking about hits. You know the Italians were really bloodthirsty,” I say as if this explains away the things I was talking to Trudy about. “They killed a pope. Some guy whacked the emperor. I’d have fit in good. Shit, they even carried out a whole massacre in a church.” I leave out the part where the plot failed and the assassins were hung from the windows of a palace in the middle of Florence, but, damn, those were some juicy stories the tour guide told us up north.

Quinn laughs. “I guess that’s why we keep coming back here.”

“That and because you speak the language.” Quinn studied the Romance languages in college, but since we’ve started traveling she’s gotten almost fluent in about four of them. It’s easy to travel with her because of it.

“In my defense, I did say my favorite place so far was the gardens at the Villa Borghese.” Those were astoundingly beautiful.

“Not because you learned that there was a sculptor assassin?”

“No, but that was cool.” I’m not going to deny I have a predilection for that shit. I spent almost a decade dealing with death. I’ve come to terms with it and, thankfully, so has Quinn. These days, I’m busier with diapers and pacifiers, but there have been times my past skills have come in handy. We had a run-in with some asshole in Amsterdam who tried to feel Quinn up when she was waiting to use the toilet. I took him out behind the pub, broke all ten of his fingers and his nose. He’s lucky I didn’t mangle his dick but Quinn felt that the finger thing was a fair punishment.

Trudy’s head starts to droop. I loop our travel bag over one shoulder, tuck my daughter’s small body to my chest, and help Quinn to her feet.

“Come on. If we can make it back to the hotel in the next fifteen minutes, we can have some alone time.”

“Oh? And what will you do with that alone time?” Quinn teases.

“Things. Many things. Dirty, twisted things that I can’t put into words because our daughter isn’t sleeping yet.”

Quinn’s laugh spills out into the open space. Heads turn and people stare because she’s gorgeous and happy and the whole world wants a piece of her, but she’s mine. I gather my woman under my arm and kiss her, squishing our daughter between us. Quinn tastes like sunshine and joy. Her

love has filled all the dark corners of my life and washed my past sins away.

We kiss and kiss and kiss until Trudy squirms and lets out a sleepy protest. Reluctantly, I release Quinn’s mouth. Her lips are shiny red and her face is pink with desire. My hand slides down her arm to capture her fingers.

“Come on, baby, let’s go.”

She lays her head against my shoulder. “I love you,” she murmurs.

Love really isn’t a good enough word for what I feel for her, but it’s all I have. “I love you, too.”

There’s good in this world and most of it is within the circle of my arms. I’ve never done jack shit on this planet to deserve her or Trudy, but I have them both. I’m a lucky bastard, I know this. Maybe the skills I learned early on weren’t for nothing. After all, somebody competent needs to be protecting these treasures. And, for all my faults, the one thing I can do well is guard Trudy and Quinn. Nothing will ever hurt them as long as I’m still breathing and even if I have to go down that dark path again to keep them safe, I will.

“I can feel you thinking,” Quinn says. Her hand rubs along the small of my back.

“Yeah, about how lucky I am.”

“And?” “And how I’d kill to keep you safe.” It’s a dark admission but those are my honest thoughts.

“I know.”

I pull up short. Her frank acceptance surprises me. “You know?”

“Of course. It’s why I feel safe. It’s why I love traveling.

There’s no place I can’t go without you by my side. I sleep well at night. I don’t worry about anything during the day. I used to feel bad about putting that burden on you, but then I

realized that’s how you love me and if you didn’t get to protect me, it would get you down.”

Her assessment is so on point that I’m shocked speechless. She grins and winks at me. “You’re the sweetest, Daman.”

“I’ve killed people and maybe not all of them deserved it.”

“You did what you had to do to survive and quit before it took your soul. You’re a good man, my love. I’m proud to be your wife.”

A thick lump grows in my throat. I start walking—fast.

Beside me, my wife giggles into a fist. I don’t need to ask what she finds funny. I know her like she knows me. She always thinks it’s hilarious whenever I get slightly uncomfortable by her praise. It’s something that I never really experienced before I met her. I never understood what love or happiness were until I first had Quinn and then our beautiful daughter. What started out as a killer crush with Quinn has turned into a life worth living.

What’s next? First of all, did you read Killer Love yet? If not, download it right now! Please. :) As for the next book, I’ve got something cooking in my oven. It’s taking a little longer than I’d hoped. I think the holidays got away from me. Stick with me, though, I have more stories coming your way. Keep your March open because there will be more from Ella Goode. I love you and thank you for all your support!

Ella

ALSO BY ELLA GOODE_

Killer Love Secret Baby Oh Snowy Night FU High: Ace of Hearts, Deuces Wild, and Two of a Kind Loyalty Card She’s the One & My Only One Spark Priceless Smooth Kisses, Sweet Kisses, Saved Kisses Finding Home & Bring Him Home Captured, Kept, Stolen Make Me Yours She’s All Mine Pretty Prize Three of Us (Twins #1) and Belong Together (Twins #2) Their Private Need (Michigan, Easy and Annie) His Bold Heart (Chelsea & Wrecker) Her Secret Pleasure Captive Ride The Last Christmas Present: Billionaire Holiday Romance (a Daddy story) The Wolf’s Mail Order Bride Beauty in Summer

ONNE T WITH ME!_

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