Page 29 of Gravehouse

I lower my hand and stare at my phone like it’s his face.

“Fuck you,”I mouth, flipping it off and slamming my laptop closed.

Parker was my main target, sure, but Emeric knows I rely on what I do to get me through. Almost the same way some do therapy. Did I want out? Yes. But I’m not stupid. There’s a system one needs to go through to get out of a life like this and it’s not done by depravation.

Not that I get off on killing people. To get our attention to begin with requires a certain skillset. Writing someone into a script and having us actually accept it are two very different things. We’re not the agency that most people think of when they want to get a job done. We’re silent, discreet, but also… selective. Our system works because we don’t have a high take-out list like others, such as Copper Ville, who kill just to kill and don’t care how. This is why they’ve also been on the radar of every task force worldwide.

In short, if you know who we are, then you’re walking in the right circles, because no one, literally no one, knows who we are unless we want them to. It helps with our one-hundred-percent success rate.

Until Asher.

I dump my coffee down the drain and decide to make it my mission to find the hottest outfit I can in my new ridiculous closet.

“You know who I am.” I flick past a dress, then another with a sharper swipe. “Yet here you are. Again. Standing close enough that I can count your pulse rate and reach you to stop it.”

Atlas props himself against the bedside table, one ankle over the other. “I have a proposition for you if you choose to accept.”

I pause on a black gown that dips low between the breasts. I hold it up by the straps, then flip it to check the back.

All skin.

Never mind.

I hook the hanger with a finger and carry it toward the bed. “What makes you think I’d negotiate with you?”

He rolls one shoulder. “Because I think you want to piss my brother off more than I want to.”

I turn with the dress still in my hands, letting him see my smile. “Some sort of buried family drama I don’t know about?” I lay the it flat on the comforter.

His left eye twitches. “You have no idea.”

“I wouldn’t usually be interested in getting between all that, but apparently I have free time now...” I ponder, lowering to the bed. “So continue.”

He takes his time studying my face. If he’s trying to figure me out, he’s shit out luck. There was only one man alive that could do that and I tried to kill him.

“Nothing serious.” He shrugs. “Just pure, undiluted drama for my dear twin.”

“Why?” I ask, because alas has always been better at answering my questions.

He chuckles under his breath, scratching his jaw. “Look, don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous. Probably high up there as one of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Aw,” I say, clutching my chest in mock appreciation. Being on Atlas’ anything isn’t exactly a flex.

“—But I do have a thing for red flags.”

That earns him a chuckle.

“And…” My focus slips to the window behind him. “Continue your case.”

He clears his throat. “Ah, yeah. Alright. Here’s the deal. I have a specific job to do, and if I don’t do it, it’s not in Asher’s best interest. Yet his interest is my job. Does that make sense?”

“No.” I lean back on my palms. “But not much does lately. Let me ask you something. Do you consider yourself reckless?”

With zero hesitation, he crosses his arms. “You already know my answer.”

I keep my eyes on him. “So in your free time, you fuck, party, and play?”

He nods once. “Absolutely.”