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Knife For Hire

Page 115

by Sage RelleAnne

“I need comfy clothes,” she grumbles. “And a bath.”

“I—” My eyes bounce to my bathroom. “Sure, I’ll set you up a bath.”

Her fingers wrap around my wrist, and she looks into my eyes, but she doesn’t say anything else.

Readjusting her in my arms, I carry her to the bathroom. Setting her on the counter, I squat in front of the jacuzzi tub, setting the correct heat.

“Reuben?”

I jump, my knee knocking against the tiled tub before twisting to her. “Yes?”

“Thanks. I was in and out with the doctor. You didn’t have to do all of that for a practical stranger.” She cracks a smile.

It is my undoing. The bandage on her forehead. The blush of her cheeks.

A mix of guilt and desire overlap in my gut.

“You’re a killer,” I confess to her, watching her carefully.

She jumps startled. “How do you know?”

I shake my head. But then the truth forces its way out. “I’m B.L.T.,” I admit.

I can’t keep up this facade. I can’t lie to her.

There’s shock that filters behind her eyes. “OH.”

“I know you’re a killer, Cinnamon.” I get up, walking to her slowly. Once to the counter, my hand cups her cheek. “But I don’t care. I can’t keep you out of my head. I can’t stay away from you. And whenever I do, something draws us back together. For years, my bad luck hurt everyone around me. But not you. When I’m with you, I feel safe. Free.”

And then, before I can talk myself out of it, I press my lips to hers.

For a few beats she is frozen, but then she moves with my lips. Her sweet taste is electric on my tongue, and I want more of it.

There’s guilt. A betrayal.

She isn’t Maple.

Except I never even kissed Maple like this. I never had feelings for her.

I simply lived in the shadow of my shame.

Cinnamon is a future I can dream of, a new path I can carve for myself.

A strong person who can survive and exist by my side.

When I finally draw away, we are both out of breath.

“I’ll wait outside, I’ll lend you some clothes and knock when I have them.”

She grabs hold of my arm, her soft fingers curling into my skin. “Why did you want them dead?”

“I—” I shouldn’t tell her. Not a single piece of information.

But Cinnamon’s eyes are a truth serum, and the longer I stare into them, the easier the words fall. “There is a poison… It has hurt a lot of people. The ones I sent you to are behind it. And there is one last name…”

“I understand.” She blinks, shifts towards the edge of the counter, and I help her off of it.

I take that as my queue to leave, and I do just that.