Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(28)

Silas closed the refrigerator door, holding four bottles of beer. “Dude, I’m—”

“Don’t,” said Griffin. He snatched a beer away from Silas.

Silas set the rest of the beer on the table. “That’s what he’s doing. He’s messing with your head. You’re right.”

Sloane’s face twisted in sympathy. “Griffin, that’s the most horrible thing I ever heard.”

Griffin opened his beer. He guzzled it. “You don’t...” He shook his head. “Let’s not do that, okay? I... can’t handle that.”

Sloane opened her mouth to say something.

Silas sat down, opening a beer for himself. “So, he’s a crazy psychopath who likes to control things. He enjoys inflicting pain, both physical and emotional.”

“Yeah,” said Griffin.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter why he’s doing it, then,” said Silas. “Because I guess he’s just going to be really unpredictable, isn’t he?”

Everyone was quiet.

“Well, one thing isn’t good,” said Sloane.

“What’s that?” said Silas.

“He knows where we live.”

*

Griffin shook my shoulder. “Wake up.”

My eyes snapped open. I’d been sleeping in the front seat of the third car we’d stolen that evening. We’d been on a meandering drive, doing our best to plot a tangled and convoluted course so that Marcel couldn’t follow us.

I sat up in the car and looked out the window. We were in the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. “Are we still in West Virginia?”

“Somewhere in Tennessee,” he said. “We’re heading west. If he’s attacked you, he might be heading for my family next.”

Griffin’s family lived in San Antonio, Texas. We’d visited them last Christmas after he used some of the Op Wraith resources to find them. His family had been paid off and kept safe by Op Wraith as an insurance policy to keep him in line as an assassin. The only catch was that he wasn’t allowed to know where they were. It had taken months of searching to find them.

I rubbed my eyes. “You think that’s a good idea? What if he doesn’t know anything about them, and we’re leading him to them?”

He sighed. “I know. That’s what Silas said.” He got out of the car.

I twisted behind me. The backseat was empty. I opened my door. “Where are Silas and Sloane, anyway?”

“Checking in,” said Griffin.

We met them in the lobby.

Sloane handed over keys. “Silas and I have a room on the opposite side of the hotel, so if you need us, you need to call our phones.”

“We should pick up new phones tomorrow,” said Griffin.

“But I just got this phone,” I said.

“Life on the run,” said Sloane, handing me a key.

“Wait,” I said. “Griffin and I are in a room together?”

She winked at me.

Griffin took the key from me. “I told you I wasn’t letting you out of my sight, didn’t I? It’s got two beds. Don’t worry.”

We headed to the elevator.

“I’m driving tomorrow,” said Silas. “I can’t stand being stuck in the backseat like that.”

“Whatever,” said Griffin. “We could use two cars, you know?”

“Steal extra cars, waste extra gas?” said Sloane. “What’s wrong with you guys?”

*

I came out of the hotel bathroom with a towel wrapped around my hair. The thought of Greasy Hair or Wolfman or whoever he was putting his hands all over me made me feel dirty. The shower had been necessary if I wanted to sleep.

I had pajamas on—a long t-shirt over a pair of shorts.

Griffin was sprawled out on one of the beds. He’d stripped down to his boxers, like it wasn’t even a big deal for me to have to look at him when he was nearly naked. He was flipping through channels on the TV, but he looked up at me when I walked out. “You’re okay, right?”

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“You’d tell me.”

“Of course.”

He turned back to the TV, flipped through a few more channels, and then snapped it off. “Seeing you like that made me feel...” He got off the bed.

“What? What did it make you feel?”

He closed the distance between us quickly. Then he was standing over me, gazing searchingly into my eyes. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. It would make me crazy if you were hurt.”

Goddamn it. He was right next to me, and his chest was bare, and he was beautiful, and I wanted to touch him.

“I didn’t think it would affect me so strongly.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m not hurt.”

“I know.” He reached up and caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. “I know.”

And then he was kissing me. His lips seared into mine. His arms wrapped around me, crushing me into his chest.

And I lifted my hands tentatively, to run my fingers over his glorious bare skin, feeling his rigid muscles in his shoulders, dancing over all of his smoothness. I sighed against his mouth. I loved to touch him.

He propelled me backwards, and we collided with the bed. We went down on it, him on top of me. The towel came undone on my head. Griffin ripped it away and threw it on the floor.