Erasing Faith(41)

I pulled the last stitch and stared at the bag. She’d never notice. But something stopped me from putting it back in place by the dresser. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath.

Once I did this, there was no turning back. No more pretending that I was only watching her for her own good. No lying to myself that she wasn’t a mark, that I wasn’t using her.

Nothing I was doing right now had to do with Faith’s safety. If anything, I was putting her life in even more jeopardy. If she got caught with this… if they found this tech on her bag…

She’d be dead.

Because of me.

I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter.

She’s just another mark.

After this mission, I’ll move on, like I have a million times before.

She’ll be alive or she’ll be dead — it doesn’t mean jack shit to me.

Either way, she’ll never be a part of my life again.

I was a f*cking idiot, for letting this girl get to me. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I drew blood. I wasn’t sure what upset me more — the thought that I’d have to walk away and leave this little fantasy I’d built around Faith behind, or the fact that even the thought of leaving her made my chest ache worse than the time I’d had a lung collapse when a mission had, ironically, gone south in North Korea.

She’ll never be a part of my life again.

It didn’t matter what I told myself — nothing I said would take away the sting of truth in that realization. After the mission was over, I’d have to walk away. Alive or dead, loving or hating me — either way, I’d lose her.

She barely stirred as I carried her into her bedroom and slid her body beneath the yellow comforter. She looked like a little girl, lying there with the covers pulled up to her chin. I wished, for a moment, that she’d never crossed my path. That she’d never have to learn that the world was a f*cked up place, full of f*cked up people who were experts at hurting one another. I wished that she could stay innocent, unchanged by me or any other bastard who stumbled into her life. And, finally, I wished I was strong enough to walk away before she got even more tangled up in this mess.

Coward.

Mercenary.

Bastard.

Monster.

I turned quickly and headed for the door, not sparing another glance at the bag I’d arranged perfectly in place against her dresser or the girl I was incapable of removing from my life and my thoughts.

For Faith, I was a fatal cancer — I was selfish enough not to care. The little slice of her I stole during this mission would be the only bit I ever got. So I’d be greedy. I’d take it, without question. It would have to tide me over for the rest of my life, when I was alone with only the memory of her to keep the shadows at bay.

I needed to hit something.

Hard.





Chapter Twenty-One: FAITH


FLICKER OF DOUBT



I woke up alone.

Sill wearing my clothing from last night, I could feel the grungy, day-old makeup caked beneath my eyes. My head was pounding from all the wine I’d consumed and I instantly felt my cheeks flame. Great — I’d barely cracked my eyes open and I was already blushing. That did not bode well for the day to come.

Wiping the residual eye-liner from my bleary eyes, I pushed my comforter down to the foot of my bed and groaned as I realized Wes had not only seen me in a fine state — drunken stupor was such a sexy look on me — he’d also seen my bedroom in all its post-Margot glory. Eyeing the multitude of clothes, bras, and accessories strewn about the space, I fell back against the pillows and pulled one firmly over my face. He probably thought I was a total slob.

My door creaked open. “Suffocating yourself, huh?” Margot called, bounding into the room and onto my bed with a heavy thud that made my entire body bounce. I held the pillow firmly over my face as she settled in.

“Ungh,” I grunted, a ghoulish sound.

“I take it the date went really well, then?” she teased. “That, or you’ve become some kind of moaning, flesh-eating zombie overnight. In which case, I’m turning your bedroom into a yoga studio.”

I pulled the pillow off my face. “You don’t even do yoga.”

“Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But this way, if I bring a man home, I can say, Oh, yes, that’s my yoga studio in a super seductive voice. Boys always want to do bad, bad things to yogis. They’re so bendy…” She trailed off, her eyes distant.

“It’s way too early to be having this conversation,” I grumbled.

A tinkling laugh escaped Margot’s lips. “Fine, fine. Tell me about the date.”

I sighed. “It was great. Good meal, good conversation. I invited him back here for a post-dinner drink, as you suggested...”

“And?” she prompted impatiently. “Tell me I didn’t sleep at Justine’s place for nothing. She wanted to play Scrabble before bed last night. Scrabble, Faith.” Speaking in a melodramatic voice, she threw one hand over her heart and widened her eyes. “Tell me I did not suffer thus in vain!”

I giggled. “Sorry, no earth-shattering orgasms to report. In my grand plans to seduce him, I chugged one too many glasses of wine and fell asleep on the couch. I don’t remember putting myself to bed — he must’ve carried me.”