An Assassin’s Holiday (3 page)

“My boss, Mike, is one of the partners in the firm, and he has a lot of clients that he works with himself. I don’t know anything about them. I’ve only helped him with a few of his clients.”

“What about when he’s on vacation?”

“He left me some instructions, and I did what he said to do. That was all.” Robin jumps off his chair and hurries to the other room before returning with a file. “I kept it in case someone said something and I got in trouble. But I did what he wanted, and no one ever said anything, so I thought it turned out okay.” He holds the file close to his body. “This is all I have that proves that I didn’t do this. That it wasn’t my fault.”

“What happened?”

“Mike instructed me to move some money into other accounts. He left me a note explaining what I was supposed to do.”

“Did he e-mail it?”

“No. He came here and dropped it off to me. I thought that strange at the time, but maybe if he was doing something bad, then he didn’t want to leave an electronic trail. I don’t know.” Robin opens the file and hands me a piece of paper. “This is what he gave me. And I did exactly as he said. Do you really think this is why someone wants me dead? I didn’t do anything other than what Mike told me to do.” His words come out fast. “I must be crazy to talk about all this with you.”

“Who else are you going to tell?” I take the page and look it over. As he said, it’s just a list of financial transactions and money transfers. They don’t mean anything specific to me, but I memorize the page and hand it back to him. “I know you said you completed the transactions, but are you any wiser as to what they mean?”

“Not really. Except he had me transfer money from various accounts to one aggregated one,” Robin says. “I only did what I was told.”

“And what if Mike is up to something?” I ask, getting a sneaking suspicion. “Was this vacation your boss took something that had been planned for a long time?” There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The more I find out, the less I like the smell of what’s happening. Robin is clearly concerned and confused, and I doubt he’s that good an actor.

“He told me about it a few days before he left,” Robin replies.

“And then he gives you a list of important transactions to make while he’s gone, probably out of the country. Transactions that move various amounts of money from multiple accounts to a single account, that if you were to try to access, you would be denied now, I’m willing to bet.” I hold Robin’s gaze as he grows paler by the second. “I’m guessing that the end account is one that he controls, and that the money has been whisked off to some long-term retirement account of his, and you’re left holding the bag.”

“I’m such a dope,” Robin says.

“No. Actually, you’re probably one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and your boss is a real ass for taking advantage of you.” I sigh and swear under my breath. Robin’s been set up, and I’m willing to bet his boss is sitting on a pile of money that people think Robin has stolen.

Robin flops down on the sofa. “I always thought he was kind of a jerk, but then he’d tell me how important I was to the firm and that I was in line for a promotion, so I should keep working hard.” His shoulders slump and he molds to the sofa like a rag doll. “I’m such a sap. All I was trying to do was make him happy so I could—”

I’m intrigued. “You don’t have to stop.” Granted, he may not want to talk to me about personal stuff, but then, in the last few days, I’ve learned a great deal about him, so I doubt there could be much personal information that would shock me.

He rolls his head toward me. “Are you really an assassin?”

“Yes,” I answer. “And I’ve told you my name. Any more than that would put you in additional danger.”

“Why?”

“I kill people. That doesn’t exactly put me on the right side of the law. So anyone who knows about me could be drawn into other intrigue. So it’s best that you remain in the dark.” I wonder exactly what the hell I’m expecting to gain from all this. I’ve met Robin and discovered a plausible explanation for why he is in trouble. What I don’t know is how to put an end to it. As I run through things in my head, my gaze travels to the small Christmas tree sitting on a table in the corner. It’s cheery and happy, its lights casting their colorful reflections around the room, bouncing off the walls. “This is nice,” I comment without thinking.

“It’s just a small tree. Nothing really special. Not like the big ones lots of people have.” Robin is sitting next to me without moving as he too stares at the tree. “I always said that when I had my own place, I’d get the biggest Christmas tree I could find and cover it with lights and all the sparkly ornaments I could get my hands on. I guess it didn’t work out as I dreamed, but it is my own.”

I nod my understanding. Trees and gifts are a luxury that I haven’t always had.

“I grew up in a home like the one you saw me at from outside the window,” Robin says. “We didn’t have much in the line of material things. But we were fed, and the sisters did their best to take care of us.”

“I was raised by nuns too. Only mine were the strict kind.” I rub the back of my hand as the memory of one of their punishments flashes through my mind.

“The head of the home I was in used to say that we were all God’s children and it was her job to make sure that we were all treated the way God would want us to be treated.” Robin’s lower lip curls under. “She used to have candy in her drawer, and when no one else was around, she’d give me a piece. I used to think it made me special, but now I think she treated everyone the same way. The whole candy thing was just her way of trying to make us all feel as though someone cared.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have any memories like that. At least not of the nuns. They were nice enough, I guess, and I have to admit I was a handful.” How we got on this subject—and more importantly, why I was actually talking about it—is beyond me. I need to keep my cards close to the vest, if only to help keep Robin safe. And for some reason, the innocent, kind way he’s looking at me makes me want to put his safety above everything else in the world.

I continue staring at the tree, letting its siren song of light pull me in. “Every Christmas, the nuns tried their best to make the season as happy as they could,” Robin adds. “They went to local merchants and asked for donations and things so that we’d each have a present. We never had Santa Claus. I think that was the limit for the nuns.”

“Is that why you do that now?”

“Yeah. Saints Mary and Martha was home, so I always help them as much as I can. They let me play Santa now.” Robin levers himself to his feet and leaves the room.

I sit wondering as old wounds, ones I thought were long scarred over, begin to open once again. “I don’t ever remember being able to see Santa until I was older and could go to the mall on my own,” I explain. “Not that I paid too much attention then—I was too cool for that.”

Robin comes back into the room, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor. He sits back down and places a stuffed bear on my lap. “I was eight years old when I got this for Christmas.”

“And you kept it all this time?”

“You keep the best Christmas present you ever received. Stewart and I have been through a lot together. He saw me through three years at the home, then living with a couple for a while. They were young, and after a few months, she got pregnant, so I went back because they didn’t think they could do it all. But….”

I try to picture what that must have felt like and realize I was probably better off. At least I hadn’t gotten my hopes up for a family and then had them dashed.

“They came to get me a week later and said they were sorry. They took me home with them again, and this time they adopted me. And I got a little sister eventually. Stewart saw me through how small and sick she was and through the couple of years we had her. It just about killed us all.” Robin reaches over, snatches up the bear, and squeezed it in his arms. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

“You were one of the lucky ones,” I bring myself to say. “At least you had a family. I didn’t get one until I left the home and joined the Army.” I grow quiet. That portion of my life has some of my happiest memories, but it also laid the groundwork for the life I have now. In most ways I’m grateful, but not all. And I don’t need to dump all that on a guy I’ve barely met. It’s enough to know that I truly do understand at least parts of him and that my initial assessment was correct. There’s something definitely wrong with being asked to kill Santa Claus.

“I should go.” All this is getting way too close for comfort, and I need to put some distance between myself and Robin. The heat from his body and the innocent gentleness in his eyes are very attractive. I lick my lips and then turn away. I’ve never been so attracted to anyone in my life, and it isn’t just physically. There’s something about him. Like if I let him, he could rescue me from the life I’ve chosen. The thing is, I’m not sure I want to be saved. My life is all mine, with no unnecessary emotional entanglements.

I stand and walk toward the door.

“What do I do now?” Robin asks, still clutching the bear. “I mean, you obviously aren’t going to kill me. But if you don’t, won’t they send someone else?”

“They probably will. But not tonight.”

“How do you know?”

The reasons run through my head. Because my contract is still in force, and no one who stepped on my turf would live to tell the tale. At least that’s the reputation I have. Poaching another’s contract is tantamount to a declaration of war, and no one wants that, not even the crazy ones. “You’ll be perfectly safe.”

Robin doesn’t look convinced, and the fear in his eyes combined with the way he’s holding that damned bear breaks down the last of my resistance.

“All right. I have a place that’s safe. Pack a small bag.” I know I’m going to regret this big-time, but once my mind has shifted from killer to protector, there’s nothing I can do. I need Robin to be safe.

Okay, I wish to hell I could understand it myself. But I know the guy’s life because it seems so much like my own. Only he had been luckier than most and was able to find a family, people who actually cared whether he lived or died. I had that once, but those memories faded years ago, dulled by the passage of time until they’re nothing but faint shadow. Since then…. I put those thoughts away.

Robin rushes off and returns a few minutes later with his briefcase and a small backpack. “Are you sure I’m going to be safe where you’re taking me?”

“Do you want to stay here?” I retort. “I know it’s hard after all the stuff I’ve told you, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

Just like I’m going to have to trust him.

That’s a strange feeling, and I hesitate. I’ve never brought anyone back to my place for any reason, and here I am about to break one of my cardinal rules. Fuck if I know why, other than this attack of conscience that seems to have taken over my life and my judgment. “We need to go.”

Robin turns out the lights, but leaves one on in the bedroom.

I shake my head, not saying a word about the whole lights-on thing not making one bit of difference if someone decides they want to get inside. Whatever makes Robin feel better is fine with me.

“I’m ready, I guess,” Robin says as he pulls on his coat and then picks up his backpack. I take the case, and we leave the apartment. “Where are we going?” he whispers as I head toward the rear of the building.

I don’t answer. We take the stairs down the back and out the door to the alley. It’s still frigid, but the snow has at least stopped. I lead the way down the alley to the main street, and by some miracle, I hail a cab.

I sit quietly as we ride, only giving the driver the address. I find myself glancing at Robin every few seconds, trying not to have carnal thoughts about how his legs fill out his pants and what those same legs would feel like wrapped tightly around my hips. Robin chooses that moment to lick his lips, and I actually shift closer before pulling back once again. Those lips aren’t for me. Robin’s life, when this mess is cleared up, is his own, and I’ll simply disappear once what’s wrong has been put right.

The taxi pulls up to the address I gave him, and we get out. I pay the driver, and he speeds away.

“Which one is yours?” Robin asks, looking upward.

“It’s a short walk yet.” I lead him the block and a half to my building. I do my usual “avoid the cameras” thing and make a note to alter the recordings so there will be no record of Robin entering the building. I call for the elevator and we ride up, then go into my apartment. I close the door as Robin sets down his things.

“It’s nice,” he says without any warmth.

“It’s a place to sleep.” I look around, trying to see the place through Robin’s eyes, and all I see is cold. His tiny apartment was warm, while this is almost sterile. Hell, it’s clinical. There are no pictures, no mementos of my life, because I’ve kept none. This is just a place where I sleep part of the time.

Robin shivers, and I turn up the temperature. The place is chilly, but I doubt any amount of heat is going to truly warm the place. That would require major decorating. But still, this is home, or as close to home as I’ve ever allowed myself to feel.

“Is this how you live your life?” Robin asks and then claps both hands over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Pretty much.” There’s no hiding. “I have a room you can use,” I say, and I lead Robin down to a second room with a bed. “You’re safe here.”

Robin nods. “I still wish I knew why you’re helping me. Wouldn’t it be easier to just do your job and move on?”

I stand in the doorway. “Yeah, it probably would. But for now let’s chalk it up to the Christmas spirit.” I don’t want to analyze it too closely or I’ll probably go round the bend. “In a month or so, I’ll most likely wish I’d had my head examined, but right now, I know this is the right thing to do. You don’t deserve to be mixed up in what’s happening, and a guy like you should never cross paths with one like me.”

Robin passes through the doorway, stops, and turns around on his heels. “Did you ever think that maybe you and I were supposed to cross paths? I believe that things happen for a reason. Life isn’t just a bunch of random crap. There is a plan, somewhere, even if we don’t see it, and maybe part of that plan is for me to meet you.”