Hard Target (8 page)

My heart pounds in my ears, but I continue, “Actually… how many people have you killed?”

“Including the man who attempted to kill you?” he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

“Y-yes.”

“Too many to count.” There is no pride in his voice, only resignation. “Although I guess the last time two times I got to play the hero.”

My brow furrows. “Last two?”

“My sister-in-law had been kidnapped and I helped rescue her.”

“That’s totally a hero thing.” I exhale slowly, my brain trying to come to grips with the fact that I’m not only willing to travel with a killer, but grateful. Who are you to judge, I remind myself. Who knows how I would have turned out had my parents lived? After all, it wasn’t my Granny who taught me how to use a gun.

“I’m the daughter of a killer.”

“Don’t.” He glances at me, making a face. “Just don’t. You don’t need to lie.”

“Seriously, you think I’d
lie
to make you feel better?”

“I think you have a kind heart,” he says. “Go on. I want to hear your story.”

“Before the massacre,” I swallow, forcing away the memories of that horrible day, “My dad was rumored to have shot a man just for
looking
at my momma.”

“Rumored is not the same thing as actually committed.”

“That man turned up dead. No one stepped forward with information, but we all knew. My momma wouldn’t speak to him for a long time after that happened, so he left us. I don’t remember it though. Too young.” But I do remember the fights. The screams. The sound of my dad hitting my mother, her wretched sobs as he begged for her forgiveness.

“And how do you know all this?” he asks.

“Granny told me.”

“She sounds perfectly lovely.”

“Her favorite nickname for me was Satan’s spawn and by Satan, she meant her son.” I laugh a little and shake my head. “I actually miss her. She had a mouth on her, but she took me in when the state could have put me in foster care. I was never cold or hungry once I lived with her. Always had clothes and a warm bed.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Really? Why is that?” I can’t help but ask.

“Because it would be extremely difficult to exhume a body only to murder it, but I would have if she hadn’t taken care of you,” his says in a voice that makes the hair stand up on my arms. “You were only a child, and you can’t help who brought you into this world.”

I stare at him, nonplussed. “You’ve never mentioned your parents, so I’m going to take a big leap and say that they were about as good as mine.”

“You could say that. However, my mother is still alive.”

“Do you want to see her?”

“No.” His mouth thins into a straight line for a moment. “I never want to see her again.”

“Does she need a killin’?” I ask, half-joking. “I’ve got cousins…”

“I’d rather not answer that.”

“I was only kidding.
Mostly
.”

The look on his face is chilling. “I know and that’s why I can’t answer you.”

*

It’s clear from
the look on his face that he’s done with the conversation, so I lean my head back and close my eyes. If my day is anything like yesterday and the day before, then I will have very little opportunity to get any sleep.

I wake up twice, both times because we have to show our passports to border guards. I don’t panic, at least outwardly, the first time because I’m sure that Benjamin thought of everything. His casual ease with the border guard relaxes me. While they speak in a mixture of French and English that is hard for me to follow, I smile and nod when it seems appropriate.

“You were brilliant,” he says as we pick up speed once more.

“I didn’t get a chance to see where my passport said I’m from.”

“Canada.”

“But they speak French in some parts.”

He grins. “
Some
parts. I made sure you were from the non-French speaking part.”

Well, isn’t he prepared? My eyes drift shut as I murmur, “Let me know if I can drive for you.”

“
Mmm-hmm
,” is all he says.

I crack open one eye. “I know you won’t let me.”

“They drive on the same side as Americans in France, love.”

Opening both eyes, I perk up a little. “Really?”

“Still not driving this.”

Frowning, I close my eyes once more. “Don’t wake me up unless we’re in Paris. Or about to die. Whichever comes first.”

Laughing, he turns on the radio. Classical music fills the air and I fall asleep in minutes.

*

“Morgan,” Ben’s voice
drifts into my consciousness says as he gently shakes me. “We’re here.”

Yawning, I stretch and rub my eyes. “We’re in Paris already?”

“No, we’ve stopped in Amiens for the night. I’ve a room at
Hotel du Fleurs.”
Once more, he steps out before I can ask any questions, but I suppose he’s answered as many as he can.

A valet dressed in a blue and white suit opens my car door.

I swing my legs out first, then allow him to help me to my feet. Since I don’t have a purse, I wait for Ben to join me curbside.

“
Bonjour, mademoiselle
.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak—”

“Allow me, my love.” Ben hands the valet some money, rattling off something in French as if he were a native speaker. They both laugh and then Ben gives the man even more money.

I guess money talks in any language.

Finally, Ben grabs my hand, lacing our fingers as he leans in to whisper, “I told him we were on our honeymoon and that you were a lovely American visiting for the first time.”

“Is that why he’s smiling so big?”

“No, it’s because I told him that you were anxious to go to bed.”

My face heats.

The valet’s grin widens when he catches my eye.

“I can’t believe you told him that. Not to mention that I don’t have a ring.” I feel something cool slip onto my ring finger. Glancing down I find a wedding band made of diamonds. “Never mind then.” Who in the heck keeps spare rings? Oh, that’s right, he does.

“So glad it fits.”

“You think of everything, sugar,” I coo.

He barely suppresses a smile, but I get a glimpse of his dimples. “There’s a tracking device in the largest diamond. Should we ever be parted, I will be able to find you.”

“As long as I don’t pawn it,” I warn him.

“There is that.”

I drag my gaze from the sparkling diamonds on my finger to look up at him. “Mind telling me how this fit into your plan?”

He gives me a confident smile. “An assassin is always prepared.”

We pass through an enormous arch made of stone into the fairy tale of hotel dreams. The place drips with elegance, from the understated marble floors to the discreet lighting that gives the cavernous room a warm glow.

“I’ve already checked us in.”

A bellman appears with one bag and a Louis Vuitton suitcase on a cart. “Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Jones.”

How original. “Is that my wedding present?” I ask, nodding at the blue and white piece of luggage.

“The ring’s not enough?” He lets go of my hand and places his palm on the small of my back. “I’m hurt, darling.”

I lift my shoulders, playing into casually playful conversation. “I really like that suitcase.”

“Then it’s yours.”

I bat my eyes at him. “You’re so good to me, sugar.”

“That’s a bit much.”

“Not for our honeymoon.” I take a deep breath and throw my shoulders back. “Just you wait until you see all the lingerie I packed in my suitcase.”

“It’s full of guns and ammo.”

The bellhop looks our way and I panic a little. Had he heard that? Should I keep playing the wife bit? Shut the hell up? Ah, who cares?

“I wasn’t planning on wearing nothing but a smile to bed anyway.”

“You spoil me, darling.” He plants an affectionate kiss on my upturned face. “I’ll reward you by letting you ride my cock until you scream my name.”

The valet coughs.

My mouth drops open.

Ben’s hand slides down to my butt. The squeeze he gives it is way past obvious.

Until this instant, I never knew how conflicting it is to be annoyed yet turned on at the same time.

As we walk across the room to the elevators, more than one envious look is thrown our way. A part of me wants to strut while the other, smarter part of me that was rolling her eyes the entire time I was flirting with Ben, reminds me that his affection isn’t real.

Oh, and snipers could be hiding behind the love seats placed in small alcoves, waiting to blow our heads off.

I honestly don’t know how anyone can live this way. This is way worse than growing up as a fugitive moonshiner’s daughter. It’s just prettier to look at than a rundown shack and a dirt yard. But at least I was alive in that rundown shack and dirty yard. And all I had to worry about was keeping my nasty cousin, Roger, from messing with me.

There, if someone had a problem, they’d let you know up front, but here…

By the time we get to our room, I’m a mess. Tears are threatening to fall at any second and my throat is so tight that I’m all but blubbering when I tell Ben that I need to use the restroom.

I slam the door behind me, then rest my hands against a granite countertop that looks as though it’s shot with gold. A chandelier dripping with crystals sprays rainbows all over the room. This is probably the most beautiful bathroom I’ve ever seen in my life and I can’t enjoy it one bit.

I sniff back the tears, staring at my mess of a reflection. My eyes are rimmed in red and, though my hair is pulled into a bun, frizzy wispy pieces frame my face, making me look like a crazy woman. Or like I just wrestled a wild boar. My only saving grace is that I haven’t smeared my make-up all over my face.

But that’s only because I’m not wearing any.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“May I come in?”

Sagging against the counter, I say, “Sure.”

Ben’s head appears first, then the rest of him fills the doorway. While the bathroom is large, his presence is bigger. “I know you wanted to get this over with, but you needed a break.”

I stare pointedly at the shadows under his eyes. Shadows that don’t detract in the least from his sexy face. “You needed one too.”

“I do. I haven’t lived this life in a while. Takes some getting use to.”

“Are you going to punch a wall again?”

“Not for at least another hour or so.” He moves closer, joining me at the sink. “We will get through this.”

“I’ll have to trust you on that.”

He grabs the hem of my sweater and pulls me over to him, settling me between his legs. His hand sweeps across my forehead, pushing back my hair. “I haven’t given you much to trust, have I?”

I consider his words for a minute or two while he waits patiently for me answer him.

“You’ve saved my life. That’s a pretty trustworthy thing to do.”

He begins to massage the tight muscles of my shoulders and despite myself, I moan. “I asked the concierge to send up some clothes for you. They should fit, I based the size on what you’re wearing now.”

“Bless you, but is that safe? I can wear this skirt and sweater set until they can stand up on their own, if need be.”

He smiles a little. “Dmitry is watching our backs.”

“While I trust you, I don’t know your cousin. He’s never saved my life.”

“Not yet he hasn’t.” He stops kneading my shoulders. “I’ll take the sofa. You can take the bed.”

“We’re adults. We’re allowed to sleep together,” I point out.

“Sofa is by the door. I’ll be able to protect you better that way.”

“Is there a window in the bedroom?”

“A balcony.”

I raise a brow. “Couldn’t bad guys crash through it?”

He rubs his jaw. “I suppose so.”

“Then you’ll have to sleep with me. Get Dmitry to sleep on the sofa and watch the door.”

“Much better than his car.” Ben pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ll text him.”

I fist my hands on my hips. “Are you trying to be a gentleman now?”

His head cants from one side to the other. “It had occurred to me to keep my distance.”

“But we’ve seen each other naked.”

“Tonight, we’ll keep on our clothes.”

“You announced to the entire main floor that I was…” I tap the side of my face a couple of times, glancing to one side as if trying to recall his exact words. “Oh, yeah…
riding your cock tonight
.”