he spent all hours of the day working out or throwing cars. “Coffee is my big indulgence. This”—he gestured to the last bite of pastry in his hand—“was just for convenience. You should eat. I don’t have much food here.”
Her stomach rumbled. She plucked the smallest pastry out of the container and squinted at him. “You never did answer my question.”
“About why I took you?” He wiped some icing off his lips with a napkin. She waited. His eyes met hers, all humor gone. A hard glare glinted in them, his jaw locked. He balled the napkin tightly and tossed it onto the table.
“I wasn’t hired to kidnap you, Lana. I was hired to kill you.”
Chapter 7
She sputtered on the sweet pastry, spit it out in a napkin, then washed down a gulp of coffee. Guilt flooded through him. She wiped her mouth, and her gaze found his. Sharp, real, and raw fear took the shine from her iridescent eyes.
Goddammit. He hated that she was scared. He’d rather her throw a million of those sharp little punches to his face than see the terror and uncertainty scrawled on her delicate features.
“Kill me?” Her voice was rough and uneven. He rose from his chair and paced the tiny kitchen. His hands laced together behind his neck, his gaze down. He couldn’t look at her. Not when there wasn’t anything he could do to take that look on her face away. What was he going to tell her?
The truth. He had no choice. Maybe, just maybe, she had an idea of who wanted her dead.
“Last week, I received a call from a guy I used to know. He’s a sick bastard and I normally stay clear of him, but he convinced me to meet him. He said he had a job that I might be interested in. When he showed me your picture, I knew you weren’t a usual target. I figured it had something do with your dad. But there’s no way I’d hurt an innocent person.” He looked up at her. Her face was white; her hands gripped the edge of the table as if it was anchoring her. He forced himself to sit again.
“You took the job? You told him you would kill me?” Her voice trembled. Her tongue came out to wet her lips. His insides twisted.
Shit. That sounded bad.
“I had to. If I’d refused, he would have just hired someone else. Someone who would have done it without a second thought.” Stamos had been ready and eager to take on the job himself, but he’d said the source wouldn’t hire him. Not that Cal was surprised. Stamos was too damn sloppy and inexperienced. He shuddered at the thought of what would have become of Lana had Stamos been hired instead of him. She would have died last night.
“And why kidnap me? How is that an acceptable solution? You could have gone to the cops—or alerted me.” Her cheeks darkened, revealing the flash of her temper.
He closed his eyes. Her naïveté would be refreshing in any other situation. “I had very little time to decide how to handle this, and I didn’t want to risk someone getting wind of my hesitancy to do the job. People like this…like the guy who hired me…they’re scum. But they have contacts within the police force,” he said softly. And it was true. The cops had never been a reliable source of help in his experience. Lana’s lips parted, and her breath sucked in.
“And what would alerting you have done?” he continued. “You’d have gone to the police yourself, and it would have been the same scenario. I did the best thing I could think of: to get you the hell out before someone else beat me to it.”
“Oh my God.” She stood from the table, and her hands tunneled through her hair. “Oh my God.” He stood and caught her arms before she could turn away.
“Hey, c’mon. You’re safe, okay? No one is going to hurt you.” She yanked her face up to his.
“Why did he come to you in the first place?” She searched his face. “Who are you?”
She stepped out of his hold. His mind went blank. What could he tell her? That he’d infiltrated drug rings? Hunted people? Killed them? Not people like her, though. And definitely not a woman.
“Oh my God… You’re an assassin,” she hissed. Her hands covered her mouth, and she backed away.
“No.” He slashed his hand through the air. “No, I’m not.”
She shook her head, her eyes wild. “You’re lying. Why would someone hire you to kill me if you weren’t?”
His chest constricted. “Would you listen, please?”
She stared at him, her fist pressed against her full mouth. His hands ached to touch her, to ease her doubt. She needed space, and he would give it to her if it killed him.
“I’m a freelance security contractor.” Her lashes lifted. Round, hesitant eyes met his. He stepped closer to her. She didn’t back away.
“Do you kill people?”
“Yes, I’ve killed people. Bad people. People who hurt innocent people or who’ve done bad things. If you want me to elaborate, I will. I’ll tell you anything about me you want to know.” He wanted her to trust him. Her lips rolled in, and small white teeth nipped at her bottom lip. “Stamos is the name of the man who hired me. I’m the only contract hire that he knows. He wanted the finder’s fee they had offered him, so he asked me to take the job.”
“You associate with people like him? You must, if he came to you without hesitation.”
Jesus, she was sharp. He didn’t want to delve into his past. Didn’t want to share that he’d been raised in poverty, that as a teenager he’d befriended kids like Stamos. Kids like him, who needed money and would do whatever was necessary to eat and not live in shit. He’d gotten away from that life when he’d left and joined the military. He’d grown up. Stamos hadn’t. He shouldn’t have had any contact with him since coming home, but he’d run into Stamos one night and out of pity, had exchanged phone numbers with him. Stamos tried to befriend him. Due to his workload, Cal had managed to keep a good distance, but in the beginning, he’d allowed his old acquaintance to get a little too close.
“I grew up with him. He’s not a friend—far from it. But he’s tried to get close to me.”
She rested her hands on her hips. “Why would he do that? And why didn’t you just avoid him?”
He let out a sigh through his nostrils. Damn, she was persistent. “Because he wants to be like me. But he’s not cut out for my line of work. And I have kept my distance. It had been more than six months since I’d talked to him last before he called me and presented this job.”
Her eyebrows bounced. “The job to kill me?”
“That’s the one.” His tone was dry.
“You’re not going to hurt me?” Her arms folded across her chest. She spoke slowly, her words deliberate. His spine stiffened. Was that what she feared? Him?
“Hell, no.”
She chewed her lip harder. He dared to reach out his index finger to tap beneath her lip. “Stop that, you’re going to chew a hole right through.”
Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t pull away. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough opportunity to hurt you by now?”
Her gaze shifted to her feet, then back up to his face. “Yes, I suppose.”
“And have I?”
Her weight shifted from one foot to the other. “No.”
The vise that had been gripping his heart released. “I want to help you, and I’m going to protect you. No one will hurt you, but you need to trust me.” He held his hand out to her, palm open. “Deal?”
“I don’t even know your name.” Her slight shoulder raised in question. Shit, how had he not told her that?
“Cal Hart. I didn’t tell you that?”
She shook her head. “No.”