Last Kiss Goodnight

I can do this. I can chat as if nothing’s wrong. “Jecis’s great-great-grandfather opened it, and the oldest son has always taken over.”

“How has he not been shut down?”

“He not only uses lookouts to prevent cops from making it into the circus, but when he can, he pays the higher-ups to ignore him.”

“You’ve seen these higher-ups?”

“Oh, yes.” Jecis loved to entertain, and though Audra was the candy on his arm, the one he kept at his side during any such events, Vika had watched from the shadows whenever possible.

“And you could point them out if I showed you photographs?”

Hold everything. “Are you a cop?” she asked, the idea not surprising her. It did concern her, however. After she freed him, he might try and arrest her.

A pause. A flicker of guilt in his eyes. Then, “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in closing the circus once and for all.”

Relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about being tossed into another prison cell, she said, “Yeah, me too.”

He arched a brow. “Where do you plan to live when you escape?”

She pictured the beautiful cabins in New Colorado, the ones she wasn’t yet able to afford—the homes that could be sold at any time while she scrimped and saved. “I’ll find a place.”

He rubbed two fingers over his jaw. “Wherever it is, modifications will need to be made.”

For her deafness, he meant. “Are you going to come over and fix it?” she asked, and promptly wished she could snatch back the words. How wonderful it would be to have him inside her sanctuary, just because he wanted to be there. But with the way he was currently acting, there was no way he would—

“I would be willing to do so, yes.”

Pleasure was a soft, sweet rain against her skin. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Would you demand payment?”

His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. Scowling, he pushed to his feet and stomped to the far corner. Only then did she realize her mistake.

“Solo,” she said, but he ignored her. “Solo. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question your honor or anything like that.”

Silence.

But of course, she lived in a world of silence. “I really am sorry.”

Again, silence.

“I was afraid you were angry with me, because I had stiffened during our kiss, but I only stiffened because I was nervous about what we were doing. I’ve never done anything like it before. And then, when you said you wanted to come over to my new house and help me, I asked if you would demand payment because I wanted you to say yes. I was going to tell you that I would pay you in kisses. I just . . . I wanted you to know that I liked what we did, but I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

She had zero experience with men who were not the spawn of the devil or related by blood. Or both. Townies had never been an option, and none of the boys at the circus had wanted to risk her father’s wrath. And after her time in the big city, alone, frightened, and witnessing the cruelest of deeds, she’d wanted nothing to do with any male . . . and maybe even ladies with mustaches.

A few days ago, she would have balked at the mere idea of being handled by hands as big and rough as Solo’s—and probably had! Now, with his sweetness so fresh in her mind, she just wanted another kiss.

She inched into a sitting position, but even still, the dizziness returned full force and she had to close her eyes. This time, Solo didn’t rush to her side.

Could nothing go right for her? Ever?

“Fine. Be that way,” she said, riding the tide of resentment. “Act like a baby princess.” If Solo wanted to pout because she’d inadvertently insulted him, whatever. That was his prerogative. “Normally I wouldn’t say something like this, but I’m going to make an exception for you. I hope you enjoy your solitude. And by that I mean I hope you choke on it!”

Nineteen

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.

—PROVERBS 13:12

HER FINAL WORDS WERE certainly fitting. Solo was choking on his solitude. His mind refused to settle, was stuck on one thought. She had liked his kiss, had wanted more. Not because she’d felt obligated to him or because she had wished to soften him. Just because.

He almost wished she hadn’t told him. Now his body hungered for her on a level he’d never before experienced, a level that mocked everything else he’d felt, as if he’d never really known what it was to crave something. Now he knew.

He wanted her desperately.

He needed her frantically.

He had to have her. Couldn’t hold out much longer.

But he had to hold out. Not for any of the reasons he’d previously entertained but for a new one. Reason one hundred and three. Already he reacted terribly when she was hurt. If he claimed her, he would grow more attached to her, and if he grew any more attached to her, he wasn’t sure how he would react when Jecis came to take her away. And Jecis would come to take her away.

Solo needed to think about the best course of action, the best way to handle this.

Vika had moved to the far corner of the cage, where the strongest beams of light hit but fewer bugs approached her. He claimed the center and lay flat on his stomach. He balanced his weight on his hands and his toes and pushed up, lowered, pushed up, working out the tension in his arms.

By the two hundredth descent, a slow burn had worked its way into his biceps. He did two hundred more before rolling to his back and performing just as many sit-ups. Sweat trickled down his chest and back in little rivulets. His mind whirled.

If Vika ever found out about his past . . . about his side job . . . she would no longer trust him on any level, and would not want him out of the cage. She would dump him into the same category of evil as her father and Matas.

She wouldn’t understand the difference between a necessary kill and a cold-blooded one. But then, she wouldn’t need to, he realized a second later. His kills hadn’t always been necessary. Sometimes he’d had to take out innocents to get to his targets—and those operations had been performed in cold blood.

Those were the jobs that had left a dark film of acid over his skin.

Those were also the jobs that had caused him to question his line of work, to debate leaving the agency. And really, he would have left a long time ago, if not for John and Blue. They’d needed him.

“What are you doing?” Vika asked, ending the cold-shoulder treatment.

“Exercising. Getting oxygen to my brain.” And maybe it was working.

His thoughts suddenly jumped from a curved road to a straight one. So what if he reacted terribly whenever she was hurt? So what if he grew any more attached to her? So what if she wouldn’t be happy with his job situation? No other man had ever kissed her. No other man had ever held her. Solo had been the first. A sense of possessiveness rose up inside him, consuming him.

Solo would be the only.

He would have her, he decided, and his motions slowed. He would enjoy her for whatever time they had left in these lands. He would be her man, and she would be his woman.