Erasing Faith(31)

Chapter Sixteen: WESTON


KISS OR KILL



Faith Fucking Morrissey.

The girl was going to get herself killed.

I watched from a rooftop across the street as she exited the Hermes building, hugging her backpack to her chest like a lost little girl reunited with her favorite childhood toy. Despite the anger pumping in my veins due to her total stupidity, I drank in the sight of her.

Ten days, I’d stayed away. Forced myself to keep a safe distance. Told myself it was better — for her, for me, for the mission.

It hadn’t been easy.

And then, tonight, there she was. I’d been sitting in my apartment, scanning blueprints of the city sewer system that ran beneath Szekely’s compound and trying not to think about her, when she suddenly appeared before my eyes, large as life on the surveillance screens I used to monitor the Hermes office. She’d strolled up to the back door without a care in the world, scanned her badge, and walked straight into the arms of death. I thought I was going to have a f*cking aneurysm when the door closed at her back and sealed her fate.

She had no idea how close she’d come to getting herself killed.

On my motorcycle, I’d made it in five minutes. I broke every traffic law known to man, smashed the window on an office building across the street, and sprinted up to the roof. I knew I was probably too late. That my presence was useless, as I couldn’t intervene. That she was likely already dead, lying cold and lifeless on an office floor, bleeding into the carpet.

None of that could’ve stopped me from waiting on that roof, praying to a god I didn’t even believe in for her to appear unscathed.

When she finally did, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and unclenched my fists from where they’d wrapped around the rooftop railing in a white-knuckled grip.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more — kiss her or kill her.

She’d been lucky; that was the only reason she was still alive. The guard who’d caught her evidently thought more with the head between his legs than the one resting on his shoulders, because he’d let her go. If it’d been me in his position, I would’ve killed her. No question. She was a loose end — the kind Szekely paid lots of money to eliminate.

I watched the guard through night-vision binoculars, as he held the door open for Faith and let her pass. His eyes followed her until she vanished around a corner.

Istvan Bordas.

I recognized him easily, despite the garish infrared staining his profile green.

Thirty-two. Former officer in the Hungarian Defense Force. Specialized in automatic weaponry and explosives. Reputedly gave up his national decorations in favor of private contracting several years ago, when he’d learned the same lesson as so many honorable officers before him: that honor was great, but it didn’t pay the bills. Not like mercenary work could, anyway.

He was a killer.

But, apparently, I wasn’t the only monster with a soft spot when it came to Faith.

He disappeared inside and I headed back down to the street, my mind brimming with bleak thoughts. Men like Bordas did nothing for free. He was a hired gun — everything came with a price, whether it was a contract killing or a free pass during an unauthorized office visit. He’d collect payment from Faith eventually, it was just a matter of when.

I thought about the way his eyes had tracked her every move, lingering long after she’d disappeared from his sight.

When he came to collect, he wouldn’t be looking for cash.

I sighed deeply as I straddled my bike and stowed the binoculars in a saddlebag.

The girl was more trouble than she was worth. She was a walking, talking disaster — practically guaranteed to f*ck up my mission. If I were smart, I’d let her stumble further into this deathtrap, where she’d be unable to complicate things for me. I’d walk away and leave her to the likes of Bordas, who’d screw her once and toss her away like a used rubber.

As I navigated down the dark streets, warm honey-gold eyes flashed in my mind. I pictured them far-seeing and cold — rolled back in the sockets of a corpse. Drained perpetually of life, along with the girl they belonged to.

Fuck.

There was no choice, anymore. Best intentions be damned, I couldn’t leave her to meet that end. She was in this too deep now to go it alone. She needed protection. Someone to look out for her, to watch over her.

Not just someone — me.

She needed me.

She. Needed. Me.

Me.

No one else ever had.

But she did.

My motorcycle growled like a wild beast as I unleashed the throttle and raced into the night. It was time to make some plans.





Chapter Seventeen: FAITH


TALK NERDY TO ME



“How’s it going, Faith?”

“Can’t complain,” I said, grinning at Konrad. “One more run and then I get to go home and take a bubble bath.”

“Was that an invitation?” The snarky teen waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Konrad!” I gasped. “Don’t make me call your mother.”

His expression instantly clouded over. “You wouldn’t.”

“That all depends on what you have for me,” I said, winking so he’d know I was only teasing.

“I have eight for you, this time.” He grimaced. “But—”