“I’m trying.” She stopped and looked up at me, our breaths mingling, and my gaze dipped down to her lips. A lock of her hair had fallen loose and was whipping against her cheek. Slowly I raised my fingers and tucked it back behind her ear, letting my hand linger along her neck.

“You’re doing great.” Turning away from her I urged us onward. I had no doubt that the people following us would catch up unless we put more space between ourselves and the city.

When we happened upon a quiet row of houses with cars parked along the curb, I turned and walked until I found an older Land Rover. I stopped and bent over to tie my shoe, checking the sidewalk and nearby homes for people that might notice us. Once I was sure we were in the clear, I stood up, pulling the lock picks out of my pocket.

I made quick work of the door and slid into the driver seat before leaning over and opening the door passenger side for Ava. She climbed into her seat Ava climbed inside and discreetly kept watch out the passenger side window. I found it amusing that she had slipped into the role of lookout so quickly. I pulled away from the curb and headed out of town.

We’d stick to as many back roads as possible and keep a low profile. I had a safe house in Oxford that would give us a place to regroup. We needed to change clothes and I needed to talk to some people.

“Where are you going to go?” Ava asked as I navigated the busy roads. Her eyes didn’t have the happy glow that had been in them the day before. A couple of hours with me was all it had taken. I didn’t blame her.

“Oxford. I need to make some calls and figure out what’s going on.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked. Her voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the fear behind her words.

I sighed. “I don’t normally announce when I’m going to kill someone, but no. I’m not going to kill you. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to keep you alive.”

We sat in silence and I focused on staying under the radar. Avoiding suspicious behavior was important while driving a stolen car. My mind ran over the events, trying to piece together an exact timeline. Had I seen that woman at any point before this morning? And the doorman had been in place for quite a while. How long had people been planning on killing Ava?

“Why not kill me?” Her voice broke my train of thought and I looked at her confused.

“What?”

“It would be easier. If there really is a bounty on my head you could just collect the money yourself.” She crossed her arms over her chest. I reached out and turned up the heater. It was nearing the end of summer and there was a chill in the air today.

“You’re not my contract.” I shrugged. “And I only take contracts for people who deserve it.” I was not going to go into my philosophy for my job. There was no making what I did okay. I was a murderer.

“How do you know I don’t? I didn’t know Mr. Song was such a horrible man.” She leaned her head back against the seat. “I mean, he was unfriendly, but I never would have looked at him and thought he was involved in some kind of sex scandal.”

“I just know.” Mr. Song’s death wouldn’t bother her if she trafficked in the darker parts of humanity. Her eyes were too bright, too innocent—it wasn’t something you could fake.

She was looking at me like I was a puzzle and for the first time in a long ages, I felt nervous. I reached up and pulled at my tie so it hung loosely and focused on the road. I’d faced down some of the most disgusting people on the planet, but her bright eyes made me feel undone. I needed to get a grip. Or get laid. How long had it been? I couldn’t remember—which was a sad thing.

We lapsed into silence again and I debated our next move. Information was a must. There were too many unknowns in this situation and I didn’t like being blind. What were the odds that two people living in the same building, on the same floor, would have hits out for them at the same time? Whoever was after Ava must have some connection with Mr. Song, which meant I was involved whether I wanted to be or not. And I certainly didn’t want to be involved.

“Look, I can drop you anywhere you want, but you can’t go back to London. It’s not safe there right now. For either of us.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she said miserably.

I shot Ava a quick glance as we wove our way through traffic. She was looking out the window, chewing on her thumbnail. Unshed tears glistened along her eyelashes and made my heart do something funny. A lot of women would be screaming or hysterical. Ava was trying to not let me see her cry.

“Stay with me,” I said.

“You’re dangerous,” Ava pointed out.

“That’s why you need me.”

She wiped at her eyes, and I could sense she was wavering—but when she finally nodded, I felt relief wash over me. Because at that moment, I understood I had a new job: to protect her.

Shit.

I was definitely involved.

I WOULD NOT become a blubbering mess. I would not cry like a little girl. I would remain calm so I could retain some kind of control of the situation.

Or I would stare out the window and glare at the world that passed by while pretending like I wasn’t crying. I hated to cry. I really fucking hated to cry, especially while trapped in a car with an insanely hot self-confessed murderer.

Then again, wasn’t I a murderer now, too?

The memory of blood creeping across the concrete filled my mind. No, no. Can’t go down that road right now. It was too much to think about. And I had to concentrate on what was happening to me right now. Had to stay calm so I could figure out what I needed to do next.