Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(60)

She was going to ask what the hell was going on, but then she remembered his sudden reappearance, and besides his fixation on her, he had questioned her about Liam, about what she knew about his family. He’d said he had come back for her, but now she was starting to realize that he wasn’t there for her at all.

“This is about Liam, isn’t it—the reason you’re back.”

“No, I meant what I said. He was the excuse, you’re the reason.”

She couldn’t begin to understand what he meant by that. “Sanitation, my ass. Are you like a damn spy?”

He shrugged—just shrugged as though that answer was entirely plausible. “Close, but I’m not affiliated with any government.”

What. The. Fuck. She was almost afraid to suggest the next one. “Assassin?”

“Depends on the job.”

Even though it was Niklaus, even though he had never given her the impression that he would hurt her in any way, a chill went down her spine at how easily he had admitted to that.

“What—”

“Mercenary,” he said carefully, his eyes scanning her face, what he was looking for, she didn’t know. “That’s the word you’re looking for.”

It wasn’t the first time she had heard the word though she couldn’t recall what it meant, or what they did exactly, but that was the last thing she expected him to be.

“Depends on the job, you said. So, Liam…he’s the job?”

Niklaus shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

“Then explain it to me.”

She could see a muscle working in his jaw, and she almost expected him not to answer, but he did.

“I can’t.”

Reagan could believe that, he had admitted, albeit vaguely, that he killed people for a living. Why wasn’t she freaking out? Why was she still standing there talking to him and not getting as far away from him as she could?

“Don’t do that.”

Her eyes snapped to him at the softly uttered command. “Don’t do what?”

“Fear me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I’d never hurt you,” he said with unwavering sincerity.

How desperately she wanted to believe that, but he had never given her any reason to. “So what was it exactly?” She found herself asking, her voice level though she felt anything but. “What did you need from me to get Liam?”

“I already had it handled.”

“Before or after you came back walked into my pub?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

“Both. I had his name—or the family name—before I got here. I came to you first though. A friend told me Liam was around you, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She looked away, feeling vulnerable. She hadn’t been okay, the farthest thing from it.

Niklaus blew out a breath, pulling the beanie free from covering his hair. “You should have told me.”

“And what would I have said? Sanitation guy, I know I haven’t seen you in years, but there’s this Irish mobster and his brother that’s extorting everyone in my neighborhood—oh, and one of them thinks that I belong to him? Would that have worked for you?”

“As I said, you—”

“How? How was I supposed to tell you anything? They could have killed you, it’s not like they’re shy about hurting someone. I’ve seen the things they’re capable of, but despite how much of an * you can be, I didn’t want to see you hurt because you were trying to protect me.”

There was a sudden moment where his eyes lit up with an emotion she couldn’t read at first—it took over his whole demeanor.

“Do you think I can’t protect you, Reagan?”

“What?” she asked frowning, confused his words. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a simple question—yes or no?”

“What does it matter?”

One minute he was across the room, the next he was directly in front of her, so close that she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves.

“You feared for me. You even put yourself in between me and that f*cking idiot because you were trying to protect me. My question is do you think I need you to protect me?”

She couldn’t for the life of her understand what he was getting at. “Nikl—”

“You knew,” Niklaus said, his voice gone low, sensual in a way that he probably didn’t try to do. “Some part of you, however small, knew exactly what I was. Even before. Every night you came to my room and climbed in my bed, you knew.”

Maybe on some subconscious level, she had known. She had already rejected the idea of his involvement in sanitation, even if she never admitted that fact to herself. And how could she not recall just how strong his muscles felt beneath her hands.

“But there’s only so much your strength can do,” she voiced the thought aloud. “Against a bullet? Nothing. I can’t have you dying because of me.”

It wasn’t the first time she had said similar words during this conversation, and just like before, he had a reaction to them that puzzled her.

“What would you prefer me do? Leave you to fight alone?”