Page 70 of Reaper's Desire

I don't answer. Because she's right, and there's no point in lying anymore. The truth is out.

And everything is about to fall apart.

18

ISABELLE

Istare at the photograph in my hands, and my own face stares back at me. The pieces click into place, and I feel sick.

His skills. The weapons I've seen him handle so casually. His knowledge of the assassins hunting me. The way he always knows where they are before they arrive. The constant vigilance.

He knows all this because he's one of them.

I look up at Julian, and I see the guilt written all over his face. He doesn't even try to deny it. The photo is damning, and we both know it.

"You—" My voice breaks. I can barely form words. "You were hired to kill me." My stomach heaves. This man was hired to kill me. This man I just had sex with—who I fucked in Ibiza before this, who I've been falling all over since then like a pathetic idiot. This man whose cock was inside me five minutes ago. This man I've been trusting with my life, sleeping beside, falling for despite every warning sign screaming at me to run.

He was supposed to murder me.

The realization is physically sickening. My hands shake so badly the photo flutters, and I have to grip it tighter to keep from dropping it. My legs feel weak. My chest is tight. I can't breatheproperly, can't get enough air into my lungs. I think of his hands around my throat in Ibiza, that moment when he choked me and I thought it was something kinky, something that made mecome for him, and I gag, stumbling backward.

Fuck. He was on the verge of killing me then. He almost killed me.

"Isabelle—" He takes a step toward me, his hand outstretched.

"Don't." The word comes out sharp and vicious. "Don't you fucking dare touch me." I stare at him. "You're no better than him." I point at the dead, cooling body. "You on your fucking high horse about how he was going to kill me, about how stupid I was, and I… you…"

He stops, and his hand drops to his side. The look on his face—the devastation and guilt —makes me want to scream.

"Did you know that you were supposed to kill me in Ibiza?" My voice trembles, and his shoulders sag.

"Not the first time." He swallows hard. "The second night. When you told me your name."

The second night. When I rode him and gasped out my name, and his hands moved to my throat like he was going to strangle me. When I thought for one terrifying moment that he might actually kill me, and then he came and left without a word. That's when he knew. That's when he realized I was his target, and that's why he fled. Because for some reason, he chickened out. He fucking came inside me while he was on the verge of killing me, and then he bolted.

And he's been lying to me ever since.

"Oh my god." I back away from him, my bare feet stumbling on the hotel carpet. "Oh my god. You've been lying to me this entire time."

"Yes."

The simple admission is worse than any excuse would have been. He's not even trying to deny it or soften the blow.

"Were you hired to kill me?" I need to hear the words out loud even though I already know the answer. "Answer me, Julian. Were you hired to kill me?"

He looks at me for a long moment. His jaw is tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he looks devastated.

I don't fucking care.

Then he says, "Yes."

I stagger like he's punched me. I knew it was coming. I knew what he was going to say. But hearing it out loud—hearing him confirm that someone paid him to murder me, that he accepted the job…. It's too much.

My knees buckle. I catch myself against the wall, my hand pressed flat against the cheap wallpaper, and I have to focus on breathing.In and out. In and out. Don't pass out. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you collapse."Who?" The question comes out hoarse. "Who hired you?"

"The contract came through my broker." His voice is tight. "I don't know who put out the hit, Isabelle. That's not how this works, unless someone contracts me directly, which happens sometimes. I was given a contract and a choice to accept, and I took it. I have no idea where it goes from there, and that's what I've been trying to find out, to try to figure out a way out of this for you…"

"You kill women?" I stare at him. "Aren't men like you supposed to have like… a code, or something? No women, no children?"