Page 38 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
My footsteps are muted over the worn rug as I round the desk. I swing the picture away from the back wall, revealing the safe behind it. The code has always been my mother’s birthday, for as long as I can remember. With a loud beep, the little red light turns green, and the thick metal door creeks open, revealing the little metal box inside.
My father’s gun sits on top of a stack of papers, a box of bullets beside it. My fingers wrap around the polished metal, and I smile. He always had this gun on him, and everyone always joked that he looked like some kind of gangster. In a way, he was, I guess. Methodically, I take the bullets from the box and load the clip before sliding it back in with a click. The second the gun is loaded, it feels like a ticking bomb in my hand. I shove it into the back of my jeans and close the safe, ensuring that I don’t leave a trace of my presence. I climb the stairs, listening intently for any signs of life. It’s late though, early hours of the morning. The only people up are the guards outside the house.
I bypass my own room and head straight for Sasha’s. With each step along the corridor, my heart beats a little harder, and my breaths become more difficult to draw. By the time I reach his door, I’m practically choking on my hammering heart. My hand trembles as I reach for the handle and twist it as quietly as possible. The light from the hallway cuts across the rug for a moment before I silently close the door behind me. Moonlight spills through the window, highlighting his form in the bed. His back is facing me, the sheets pooled over his hips. Silvery light plays over the silhouette of his tight waist and broad shoulders, his ribs rising and falling on each breath.
I know he knows I’m here. Sasha has the reflexes of a cat and an awareness that’s almost inhuman. Impossible to sneak up on or catch unaware. The perfect predator. An elite soldier.
But he trusts me. That’s why he hasn’t moved.
That singular fact has a lump forming in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut. He killed my father and lied to me. He’s every bit as bad as Enrique. I repeat the same mantra over and over in my mind until my feet start moving toward the bed. The scent of him wraps around me, mint and fresh linen. My confidence wavers, but I’m losing precious seconds. Any moment now, he’ll roll over, and I will have lost the element of surprise. I should just pull the gun and shoot him, but I don’t. Instead, I crawl onto the mattress, on top of the sheets. Laying my head on the pillow, I feel the warmth of his body. Memories flash through my mind: his arms around me, his body moving over mine. I remember how safe he made me feel, how he vowed to protect me. I can still picture the fierce look in his eyes when he told me that Enrique would never have me.
I remember the way he loved me, the way I loved him. I’m not sure if it makes it better or worse. I may not have known what he had done, but he did. He let me love him, knowing he had shot my father. And yet…he loved me while knowing what he had done. That would not have come easily for him.
Reaching out, I hesitate before touching my fingers to his back. His breath hitches ever so slightly, and his muscles tremble beneath my touch. With my free hand, I slowly reach behind my back, gripping the gun tightly. I brace my wrist against my hip steadying my shaking hand as I point the gun at Sasha’s back. The muzzle lingers just inches from him, and I imagine the mess it’ll make if I pull the trigger this close. I have to force myself to breathe normally, though my heart is now beating so fast it feels like it’s rattling my entire frame.
I just have to…shoot. That’s it. For Gabi. For me. For Daddy. In my head, I’m screaming at myself, but outwardly, there’s only silence. I wonder if he can sense the tension that has my muscles locked down tight. I continue stroking his back with my free hand, and he must be able to feel the tremor.
My thumb sits over the safety button. I just have to flick it and pull the trigger, and yet I’m frozen. Thoughts fly through my head.
He killed Daddy.
He saved you.
He betrayed you.
He loved you.
You loved him.
You love him.
You need him.
I close my eyes, swallow, open them again.
“Sasha?” I barely breathe.
