Page 71 of Reaper's Desire

He lets out a short, bitter laugh. "There are men a lot worse than me. I don't torture anyone. I don't do interrogations. I do quick, clean kills. And I've never killed a child. But any adult… yes. I take the contract as long as it's enough money."

"Money." I stare at him. "You kill people and get paid to do it."

His lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, he looks angry. "Don't judge me," he says flatly. "At least not for that. You can judge me for whatever has happened between you and me, all you like; you have a right to. But don't presume to think anything about the rest of my life or what I do. You don't know anything about it."

The fact that he's daring to act as if he has any high ground at all infuriates me even more. I glare at him, gritting out the words between my chattering teeth. "Why? Why would someone want me dead?"

"I don't know. I never ask why. That's not how it works. Someone pays, I complete the job. No questions."

"But you didn't complete the job." I can hear my voice rising now, hysteria creeping in at the edges. "You didn't kill me. Why?"

"Because I couldn't." The words sound like they're being torn out of him. "Because when I realized who you were in Ibiza, that it was you, while we were… I couldn't do it."

"That's it? You just couldn't do it? Why did you come back?"

"I made a decision that night," Julian says. His voice is rough, raw with emotion I don't want to hear. "After I left your hotel room. I went back to my own room, and I realized what I'd done. Who you were. And I called my broker and told him I was backing out."

"Backing out." I stare at him. "Like it's a business deal. Like my life is just another transaction."

"It was supposed to be." He stares at me, as if there's any possible way I could understand this. "That's what it's always been. A job. A contract. Nothing personal."

"But this time it was personal. You'd already fucked me. You knew what I tasted like. So it was personal, and you realized that while we were in bed together."

"Yes."

"And it got you off."

Julian shakes his head sharply. "No… no that wasn't it. I…" He lets out a sharp breath. "You didn't realize what was happening. You liked it when I… when I choked you. And that…" His throat works. "Fuck Isabelle, why are we talking about this?"

"Why did you follow me to Greece?"

His jaw clenches. "I tried to back out, and I was told I couldn't. That the contract was brokered through…" He pauses. "Someone who wouldn't take failure as an option or no for an answer. There was no going back on it, or I'd die too. I…"

He sinks to the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair. "I thought about still doing it." He looks up at me. "Is that an admission you want to hear, Isabelle? I knew someone would finish the contract no matter what, and if it wasn't me, I'd be dead too. What was the point of us both dying? I told myself I'd do it and make it quick, that you'd never see it coming, and I followed you to Greece."

I stare at him, horror tightening my chest. "You were…"

"Yes. And then I saw you with that other man, and I snapped. I didn't want him to touch you. I didn't want anyone to touch you who wasn't…" He swallows hard. "I couldn't do it, again. And before you ask,yes, fuck… I've thought about it since then. I've got people you can't imagine on my ass, wanting to know why you aren't dead yet, and I could have made my life so much goddamn easier by just doing my fucking job. But I couldn't do it, over and over, and once I realized that wasn't going to change…." He takes a heavy breath." The only option after that was to convince you that you'd be safe with me, keep my secret,and try to unravel where your contract came from to see if I could do something about it, before we both died."

"And you've been doing such a good fucking job of that." The sarcasm in my voice is thick enough to cut. Julian raises his hands and lets them fall again.

"I've tried, Isabelle. I swear I've tried. Whatever you think of me… I wanted to keep you alive. And I've done it so far at the cost of my own life. Whether you survive or not, I'm a dead man walking."

I stare at him. None of it makes sense in my head. "You're… going to die? Because of me?"

"Because I made a choice." He sighs, looking up at me with his hands braced on his knees. "And I'd make the same choice again. I don't want you dead, Isabelle. I never did. Contracts are never about mewantingsomeone dead. But you… I couldn't kill you. And now I'm going to die because of it."

I stare at him, at this man who was hired to murder me and chose not to. Who's been lying to me for weeks while protecting me from other killers. Who's risking his own life to keep me breathing. And I don't know what to feel.

Gratitude? Horror? Betrayal? All of it at once? "Why didn't you tell me?" The question comes out cracked, my voice still shaky and broken. "Why didn't you tell me the truth from the beginning?"

"Because you wouldn't have trusted me." His voice is quiet. "If I'd told you in Santorini that I was the assassin hired to kill you, you would have run. You would have been alone and unprotected, and one of the other killers would have found you within days."

"So you lied to protect me."

"Yes."

"You lied so I would trust you." My voice is rising again, anger cutting through the shock. "So I would depend on you. So I would?—"