Six(45)

The bag had no markings, but inside was a wrapped deli sandwich and some chips. I licked my lips and smiled up at him. The tick of his jaw caught my eye just before he held out a can of Coke.

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward onto the bed where I moved up to my knees and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. A quick squeeze before pulling back and, just to confuse him, I placed a light kiss on his lips before I settled back down on the bed.

Turnabout being fair play and all.

“What was the hurry about this morning?” I asked as I unwrapped the sandwich.

He had to have driven far, because I doubted the tiny town we were in carried a delicatessen housing dark rye bread. There was turkey, swiss, lettuce, mayo, pickles, tomato, and sprouts. Definitely not local.

I opened my mouth and ripped a bite out of the sandwich like a starving animal.

He didn’t respond, but I didn’t expect him to. Instead, he startled me with a subject he hadn’t broached in quite some time.

“I need you to tell me what you know about Three.”

My chewing slowed, and I took a hard swallow. “Can I eat before we do this?”

“Tell me.”

I shook my head and put the sandwich down as a vice wrapped around my chest.

“Lacey, f*cking tell me.”

Tears filled my eyes as I screamed out, “I’m not ready to die!”

He sat down, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “I am going to kill you. I am going to shoot you in the head. Quick, clean, painless. But it’s not going to be right now. I need you, and not just for the secret information you’re keeping from me.”

“To f*ck?”

He smirked. “There is that. If someone is out to erase the Cleaners, you make a great cover.”

I laughed. “So, I’m only around to help keep you alive, and you’re still going to kill me?”

“Yes.”

I jumped up from the bed. “Why? I want to f*cking live too, you *!”

He stood back up and walked around the bed to me. “Do you think I care about that?”

“No. You just think about your desire to live. Well, Mr. Killer, what the f*ck is so important in your life?”

“It’s mine, and I’ve worked damn hard to keep it.”

I threw my hands up in the air. “All you do is take life! You aren’t a harbinger of death, no higher cause, you’re just a f*cked-up psychopath!”

His lip curled up as he stepped forward, his hand closing around my neck as he slammed me down onto the bed. My head was tilted back as I looked up into his eyes, to the snarl of his lip.

“Do you really want to go down this path again?”

I dug my nails into his arm and glared at him. “You know what I want to do, but since that isn’t going to happen and I’m not going to tell you anything, why don’t you let me stuff myself with the sandwich and then you can stuff me with your cock.”

He blinked at me, his expression sliding back into neutral as his hand relaxed. Those brown eyes of his studied me for minute, as I studied them. I’d never really noticed the multitude of shades. Amber, chocolate, flecks of gold, and in the center a rust-like color.

“Why would the death of one of the Killing Corps demand a cleaning?” I asked, staring deep into his eyes.

The ticking of the intricate clockworks of his brain could almost be seen as he thought about not only answering the question, but how much to give away if he did.

“We’re the sadistic children even the CIA doesn’t want to admit are theirs. Nothing to tie us to them so they can have full deniability.”

My heart stopped, and I froze.

CIA?

Central Intelligence Agency?

Fuck. Everything began to make more and more sense. At the same time, I felt sick. A government agent had kidnapped me and was going to kill me.

He pulled back, and I sat up. “So, you’re not just some delusional psychopathic killer, huh?”

He shook his head. “I get paid to kill people the CIA wants to disappear.”

“What about bystanders?”

“Casualties of war.”

Oh.

Wrong place, wrong time. Just another person caught in the crossfire.

The brass bullet from Six’s gun was going to make me disappear. Just another casualty in a war silently raging in the shadows.





A day later, Six released the cuff around my ankle. Seemed we’d come to a sort of agreement—I wouldn’t try to run, and he wouldn’t kill me the moment I stepped out of line.

For three days I had freedom from the wire. It also meant wherever he went, so did I. Like a shadow, or a woman from the 1950s.

“What’s the plan today?” I asked as I toweled off my hair, fresh from the shower.

Six was pulling jeans up his legs and stopped.

I looked down, confused, then smirked as I tugged one edge of the towel around my body to the side, exposing my hip.

His tongue slipped across his lips. “Are you teasing me for a reason?”

I shook my head. “You’re the one staring.”

He stepped forward, buttoning his jeans as he walked. Reaching out, he brushed the other edge of the towel away and cupped my *. He leaned down, lips running up the column of my neck and spreading a heat through me.

His fingers pressed against my clit, and I reached out to grab on to his arms.