Page 37 of Loathe Me (Touch of Death 1)
I’ve never really looked at her properly, but she’s pretty. The golden tones of her skin remind me of warmer climates, sunshine and the scent of lemon trees over cut grass. Her hand moves, sliding upward over my chest. I still, holding my breath as her nails lightly scratch the base of my throat.
This is…unprofessional, but this whole job has been unprofessional, a conflict of interest. I didn’t want it to begin with. There are reasons for rules, and this is surely it. Swiping my hand over my face, I release a long breath and try once again to slip away from her; this time more forcefully.
“Hmm,” she mumbles, and I manage to slide her onto the mattress and off of me. “Sasha?” She blinks up at me in confusion.
“I did not—” I start.
She grabs my wrist. “Stay,” she says groggily.
I glance down at her fingers on my skin, hesitating. I need to leave. I’m the last person she should seek comfort from. Compassion and emotions are not something I’m remotely familiar with, and yet, that foreign sensation of guilt pulls at my chest, making me pause. I resume my position against the headboard, and she falls back to sleep. Her hand remains clasped around my wrist, but it’s the only contact between us.
I jerk awake, my heart pounding as my gaze darts around the room. It takes me a few seconds to register where I am, and then I notice Adelina’s sleeping form beside me. Pushing up from the mattress, I take in the sun now pouring through the open balcony doors. Judging from its position in the sky, I’d guess it’s mid-morning. Getting up, I pull the doors closed.
I spare Adelina one more glance, disturbed by this turn of events. I leave the room and go to the kitchen to make some food. The sizzling of the pan on the stove is strangely settling. I’ve spent my entire life training to be a soldier, a killer. Food was always for sustenance, but since leaving the Elite, I’ve found I enjoy cooking. It’s methodical and satisfying, and one of the few things that can drown out the constant sensory overload in my mind.
I’m just plating up some eggs, bacon, and avocado when Adelina walks into the kitchen. Dark shadows linger beneath her bloodshot eyes, and her hair is a knotted mess.
I push the plate toward her, along with a cup of coffee. “Eat.”
Her gaze lifts to mine, and it’s laced with suspicion.
“I’m not the enemy, Adelina.”
She lifts a brow, her lips pressing together. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m a soldier. I had orders.”
“Is that all you do? Follow orders? You can’t think for yourself about what’s right or wrong?”
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ve already stepped out of bounds for you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I slowly drop my hand, and we stare at each other in a standoff. I don’t know what to say. This shouldn’t even be an issue; she’s a job. That’s it. “I’m a soldier. I’m contracted—”
“To protect me. Yes, I’m aware. Heaven forbid you should actually feel some guilt because you betrayed me.”
I have no response for her.
“I apologize for last night. I’m not usually so weak. Let’s pretend it didn’t happen, okay? You can go back to acting like a robot, and I can go back to thinking you’re a dick.”
I inhale a deep breath, gritting my jaw. “It would be best that we remain professional.” For now. I just need to wait a couple of days for news of Enrique’s death to trickle through…
She huffs a laugh. “Professional. Sure.” She picks up the plate of food and takes it to the attached dining room.
I follow, and we sit and eat in silence. As soon as she’s done, she gets up, washes her plate and retreats to her room. Instead of following her, I hear my phone vibrating in the kitchen, so I get up to retrieve it. I have two missed calls from Nero. I call him back, and it rings once before he answers.
“You tried to kill Enrique Bianchi, didn’t you?”
“I killed him last night.”
He releases a long sigh. “The car bomb?”
“Yes.”
“It was his brother Alberto, not Enrique.” I drop my chin to my chest and close my eyes. My heart pounds, and my chest tightens. Sloppy. I rushed into it, and I made a mistake. I never make mistakes. “Shit.”
“Lay low. Enrique won’t officially go after you, not openly, but he’s a savage little shit. By now, he probably knows you’ve kept Adelina from him and killed his brother. He’ll be gunning for you on principle.”
I’d love it if he did, but of course, he won’t come himself.
“Word has it he’s gone to ground. If you wanted to get to him, you might have just missed your chance.”
Shit, shit, shit. “I need you to find out where he was last seen.” He sighs. “Nero. I won’t leave her while he’s still alive, and Una—”
